The Knock That Shouldn't Have Happened

It was 2:13 AM when I heard the knock. Three soft taps. But I live alone. And no one should have known where I was.

I moved to this cabin in the woods to find peace.

Far from the noise, far from the city, far from people.

It was supposed to be a retreat — a place where I could write, reflect, and heal. No distractions, no interruptions. Just me, the trees, and silence.

And for the first week, it was exactly that.

Until that night.

The first knock

I was reading by the fireplace when I heard it.

Three soft knocks. Deliberate. Calm.

I froze.

My nearest neighbor was ten miles away. My phone had no service. And I hadn’t told anyone I was here.

The knock came again.
Tap. Tap. Tap.

I turned off the lamp. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

I crept towards the door, careful not to make a sound. My heart was racing so fast, it felt like it might burst through my chest. Every creak of the wooden floor under my feet sounded louder than the knocks themselves. When I finally reached the door, I leaned forward, peeking through the tiny peephole.

I saw… nothing.

Just darkness. Deep, endless darkness. The woods stood still, frozen, almost like they were holding their breath with me.

But I felt something. Something unseen, yet unmistakably real.

A presence.

Heavy. Cold.

It was as if the air itself had thickened, wrapping around me like an invisible fog.

The second night

I convinced myself it was nothing. Maybe an animal. Maybe wind. The woods play tricks.

But the next night, it returned.

Exactly 2:13 AM.
Exactly three knocks.

I didn’t open the door. I didn’t look. I just sat frozen under my blanket, counting every breath.

Hours passed before I finally fell asleep.

When morning came, I inspected the porch. No footprints. No signs of anything.

Just silence.

The third night

By now, I was terrified. I barricaded the door. Closed every curtain. Kept a kitchen knife by my bed.

And still — at 2:13 AM —
Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound was louder this time. Almost impatient.

I whispered to myself, "You’re imagining it. It’s nothing."

Then my phone lit up.

“Unknown caller. 2:13 AM.”

My stomach dropped.

No one should have this number. No one even knew I had a signal.

The phone rang once.

Then silence.

The final night

I didn’t plan to stay another night. I was ready to leave at first light.

But something changed.

At exactly 2:13 AM, I heard the knocks again.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

But this time, there was a voice.

A whisper, right outside the door:

"You can't leave until you let me in."

My blood ran cold.

I didn’t respond. I didn’t move.

The voice laughed. A soft, dry chuckle that scraped against my ears.

Then footsteps. Slow. Circling the cabin.

Scratching sounds at the windows.

I stayed frozen until dawn broke through the trees.

When I finally opened the door, there was nothing there. No footprints. No sign of anything.

But I know it was real.

I left that cabin the next day.

I never returned.

But sometimes — at exactly 2:13 AM — my phone still rings.

Just once.

From “Unknown caller.”

And I never answer.

________________________________________________________________________

Thank you so much for reading this! 🥰 If you liked my writing, please leave a comment, click the heart and subscribe for free!

You might enjoy this as well:

1: The Day I Turned Off Notifications And Turned On My Life

2: The Day My Phone Died And I Finally Woke Up

3: The Day I Lost My Train Of Though

4: The Day I Forgot My Own Birthday

5: Let love be what you make it



6: 8 Brain Exercises That Will Boost Your Memory