Midnight Knock

Daniel Mercer had worked the night shift at Blackwood Memorial Hospital for six months, and he had never seen a single patient.

The hospital had been closed for nearly ten years after a chemical fire in the lower laboratory killed twelve people and injured dozens more. The building stood like a hollow monument on the edge of town, windows broken, walls stained with smoke that no amount of rain could wash away. The city hired a security company to keep vandals out, and Daniel, desperate for money, took the job.

Every night was the same.

He walked through long, silent hallways with a flashlight, listening to the echo of his own boots. Sometimes he heard the wind whistle through shattered glass. Sometimes rats scurried inside the walls. But nothing else.

Until the knocking started.

It was exactly 2:17 a.m. when Daniel heard it for the first time.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He froze in the middle of Corridor C, the beam of his flashlight trembling slightly in his hand. The sound came from somewhere ahead, steady and deliberate. Not random. Not the wind. Not rats.

A door.

But there were no working doors left in Corridor C. Most had been removed. The rest hung open, broken, or boarded shut.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Daniel swallowed. “Hello?” he called, his voice bouncing unnaturally off the walls. “Security. If someone’s in here, you need to leave.”

Silence.

Then—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He followed the sound until he reached the end of the corridor. His flashlight stopped on a door he had never seen before.

Room 217.

The number was clean, shiny, almost new, unlike everything else around it. The paint on the door looked fresh. The handle gleamed.

Daniel’s heart began to pound.

He had walked this corridor every night for months. There had never been a Room 217.

He reached out and touched the door. It was warm.

Another knock came from the other side.

His hand jerked back.

“Who’s in there?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

A woman’s voice answered, soft and trembling. “Please… let me out.”

Daniel felt a chill crawl up his spine.

“Ma’am, how did you get inside? This building is closed!”

“I’ve been here a long time,” she whispered. “Please. It’s dark.”

Every instinct told him to run back to the security office and call the police. But another part of him—the human part—couldn’t ignore the fear in her voice.

He grabbed the handle and twisted.

The door opened easily.

Inside was a hospital room that looked untouched by time. White sheets, clean floor, humming fluorescent lights. Medical equipment sat beside the bed as if still in use.

And on the bed lay a woman in a hospital gown.

Her hair covered her face. Her hands were tied to the bed rails with leather straps.

Daniel stepped inside slowly. “Ma’am, I’m going to help you.”

The door slammed shut behind him.

He spun around, heart racing, and grabbed the handle. It wouldn’t budge.

When he turned back to the bed, the woman was sitting upright.

Her hair still covered her face.

“You came,” she said quietly.

Daniel backed away. “I’ll get you out of those straps.”

“You can’t,” she replied.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m the reason this hospital burned.”

The room suddenly smelled like smoke.

Daniel’s chest tightened. “What?”

She lifted her head.

Her face was blackened, skin cracked like burnt wood. Her eyes were white and empty. Her mouth stretched into a smile too wide for a human face.

Daniel screamed and stumbled backward.

The lights flickered violently. The walls around him began to darken, paint peeling away as if years were passing in seconds. The clean room decayed into the ruined hospital he knew.

But the woman remained.

Still strapped to the bed.

Still smiling.

“You opened the door,” she said. “Now you have to stay.”

Daniel rushed to the door and pounded on it. “Let me out! Let me out!”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound came from the other side now.

He froze.

Someone was knocking to get in.

A man’s voice echoed through the door. “Security. If someone’s in there, you need to leave.”

Daniel’s blood turned to ice.

That was his voice.

He slowly turned around. The woman was laughing, a dry, cracking sound like burning paper.

“Every night,” she whispered, “someone hears the knocking.”

Daniel backed into the wall. “No. No, this isn’t real.”

“You heard it,” she said. “You answered. Just like the others.”

He noticed something on the floor near the bed.

A pile of security badges.

Old, melted, and burned.

Dozens of them.

All from different guards.

His flashlight fell from his hand.

The knocking continued outside the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

His own voice repeated, “Hello? Security?”

Daniel realized the horrible truth.

The hallway outside wasn’t his present.

It was the next guard.

Hearing the knock for the first time.

He rushed to the bed and tried to tear the straps loose. “How do I stop this?!”

“You don’t,” she said calmly. “You wait.”

“For what?!”

“For someone to open the door.”

The knocking stopped.

The handle began to turn.

Daniel screamed, “Don’t come in! Don’t—!”

The door opened.

A young guard stood there, flashlight in hand, eyes wide with confusion.

Daniel saw himself in the man’s terrified face from months ago.

“Sir?” the guard asked. “How did you get in here?”

Daniel tried to run toward him, but his legs wouldn’t move.

The woman’s voice echoed louder now. “You can’t leave once you’re inside.”

The guard stepped fully into the room.

The door slammed shut again.

Daniel felt invisible hands grab his arms. Leather straps wrapped around his wrists, pulling him backward onto the bed.

The last thing he saw before the lights went out was the guard staring at him in horror.

Then everything went dark.

At 2:17 a.m. the next night, the new guard walked through Corridor C for the first time.

He stopped when he heard a sound ahead.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He followed it to the end of the hall.

There, where no door had been before, stood Room 217.

Warm.

Waiting.

And from inside, a familiar voice whispered softly,

“Please… let me out.”