Knock, knock, KNOCK!

My name is Chris, and I'm hiking up a mountain trail high in the Rocky Mountains, while a persistent knocking pounds in my ears. I wave in irritation at my ears as if I can brush the sound away.

Gradually the knocking dissipates, and I began to listen to and enjoy the beautiful world around me.

The trail is leading me higher and higher, as I climb steadily into the beautiful mountains. I revel in the scenery, and begin to relax, the knocking forgotten.

A bird flies by, a woodpecker I guess from its plumage, and lands in a nearby tree where it begins pounding on the trunk, “knock, knock, knock… knock, knock, knock!” I put my hands over my ears, trying to drown out the sound, but it grows louder and louder, even as I hurry along the trail. Eventually though, it fades and I find myself at peace again as I press onward.

I walk in silence for some time, I’m not sure how long, but I feel fresh and am eager to press on, to find whatever lays at the head of the trail. I turn a corner in the trail and enter a deep pine forest.

It’s cool and refreshing under the trees and I smile in contentment until I notice the terrible sound rising again and see two tall trees knocking together in the light breeze. I hurry on, anxious to escape the knocking, but as with the woodpecker, it grows louder and louder.

Soon, every tree I can see is knocking against another. A cacophony of knocking assaults my senses and I’m soon running headlong up the trail, desperate to escape the noxious sound. Eventually I reach the edge of the woods and break out into an open slope. The sound goes away suddenly, and, with relief, I press on, still seeking the end of the trail, wherever, whatever, it might be.

The sunlight feels glorious on my face, and I take my hat off.

“Hmm?” I ask myself, there being no one else to ask.

“I don’t remember having a hat on.” I think with a frown.

“Oh well,” I remark, “what does it matter anyway?”

Looking ahead I see the trail ascending the slope through a series of switchbacks.

“Let’s see what’s up there shall we?” I tell myself as I set out.

Everything is fine, for a while. Fine, until a small pebble falls onto the trail next to my foot. One small click and I freeze, suddenly terrified of what I sense coming. Within seconds another stone falls and rolls to a stop against another rock with a distinctive knock.

Again, I cover my ears.

“I cannot stand that sound again.”

I yell at myself, but before I know what is happening, hundreds of pebbles are falling and knocking together. It gets louder and louder. I scream and tear off, running up the trail, in terror.

“Why are you torturing me?” I scream at the mountain which looms over me as I run and run. As before, the knocking eventually subsides and I stop. In my terror I find I have run to the top of the switchbacks. Before me spreads a small cirque, half covered in snow. The air is crisp and cold, and I pull on my jacket.

“Where did I get a jacket?” I ask myself, not remembering it any more than I’d remembered the hat.

I can see the trail ahead and there seems to be no danger, no woodpeckers, no trees, no falling stones and I begin to relax. Forgetting the jacket, now that I am warm even in the cold air, I set out again. I cross the snow slope and then crossing another rise I look ahead and there is a small cabin. I smile, thinking I may have finally put the knocking behind me as the safety and security of the cabin beckons me on.

To my terror though, as I approach the cabin, I hear the knocking again. This time it appears to be coming from a wooden spoon hanging by the front door and blowing in the wind.

“Knock.”

“Knock, knock!”

“Knock, knock KNOCK!”

I scream, and run onto the porch, heedless of the offending spoon. I am desperate now, as the knocking grows louder and louder.

Somehow, I sense that whoever, whatever, is inside the cabin is my tormentor.

“Bang, Bang, BANG!” I pound on the door angrily with my bare fists, and as it swings open, I find myself, not in a mountain cabin, but lying in a bed in a surgery suite surrounded by doctors and nurses.

“He’s back doctor!” I hear someone say and I see my heart surgeon, who I suddenly remember clearly, looking down at me with concern.

“That was a close one Chris,” he said with a sigh as I watch a technician wheeling the emergency defibrillator away.

“If you only knew Doc.” I answered hoarsely, closing my eyes to peaceful darkness and the reassuring sounds of the doctors milling about after pulling me back from the brink.

THE END!