The Door That Knocked Back

The Door That Knocked Back

Blurb

When a lonely man begins hearing knocks from a sealed door in his apartment, he thinks it's a prank — until he realizes the knocking matches his own heartbeat.

It started with a knock.

Soft at first — polite, hesitant.

Three taps. Pause. Three more.

Gerald paused his movie and listened. The sound came again, this time louder, more insistent. He glanced at the clock. 2:14 a.m.

No one visited him at 2 a.m.

No one visited him at all.

He shuffled toward the door, bare feet brushing the cold wooden floor. “Who’s there?” he asked, voice half-awake. Silence. Then — tap, tap, tap.

He undid the latch, opened the door a crack. Empty hallway. Dim light. The usual hum of the old building’s pipes.

“Probably the neighbors,” he muttered, closing the door.

But the knock came again — this time from behind him.

Gerald froze. The sound came from the other door — the one at the end of the narrow hallway.

The one he never used.

The one the landlord had sealed years ago.

Everyone in the building knew about it. “Just a storage room,” the landlord had said. “Old wiring, unsafe floor.” He’d even nailed it shut. Gerald had put a coat rack in front of it and never thought twice.

Until now.

He moved slowly, each step echoing in the silence. The knocks came again — steady, rhythmic. Like a heartbeat.

His heartbeat.

He pressed his ear to the door. The wood vibrated faintly. He could almost feel something breathing on the other side.

“Who’s there?”

No reply — only another set of knocks. Three… pause… three…

His phone vibrated on the counter, startling him. A message. Unknown number.

DON’T OPEN THE DOOR.

He stared at the screen. Another message appeared.

IT’S NOT THEM.

“Who is this?” he typed back. No answer.

The knocks grew louder. Faster. Angry. The wood shuddered.

“Stop it!” he yelled. “Whoever you are, stop!”

Then — silence.

He backed away, breathing hard. The apartment felt smaller suddenly, suffocating. The air was thick, metallic. He could hear his pulse in his ears.

And then came a whisper.

Not from the phone.

Not from outside.

From the sealed door.

“Gerald…”

He stumbled backward, nearly tripping over the rug.

He hadn’t heard that voice in years. Soft. Gentle. Familiar.

“Marianne?” he whispered.

No. It couldn’t be. His sister had been gone for ten years. Car accident. Instant.

The whisper came again, clearer now.

“Please… open the door.”

Tears burned his eyes. “You’re not real.”

“But you never said goodbye.”

The voice was calm, pleading. The same tone she used the night before the crash, when they’d argued — and she’d left without another word.

His shaking hand reached for the lock.

But the phone buzzed again.

DON’T.

The message was followed by another.

IT FEEDS ON REGRET.

Gerald froze. His heart pounded so hard it felt like the knocking itself.

He took a step back. “You’re not her,” he said, his voice breaking.

The whisper turned cold.

“Then who am I, brother?”

The door trembled. The nails holding it shut began to creak, one by one, like bones twisting out of place.

He grabbed his phone, called 911, but the line was dead — just static, crackling in rhythm with the heartbeat-knocks.

Desperate, he opened the window for air. The night outside was perfectly still — no wind, no sound, not even the city’s distant hum. Only silence.

And in that silence, something shifted.

The knocking stopped.

Then, slowly, a single knock — from inside his chest.

He looked down. His shirt moved with each thump. He could feel it — the rhythm no longer matching his heartbeat but something else trying to sync with it.

He screamed, clutching his chest. The phone buzzed again, one final message flashing through the static:

LEAVE THE APARTMENT. NOW.

He ran. Out the door, down the hallway, barefoot, half-mad with fear.

When the police arrived the next morning, they found the apartment empty. The sealed door stood wide open.

Inside the dark room was a single heartbeat echoing softly — but no one was there.

And on the wall, written in dust, were three words:

“You opened it.”