Knock Knock

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: May 15, 2017

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Submitted: May 15, 2017

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A long time ago, in a land far away, there lived three men who had been friends for a long time. These three friends had grown together, fought together, stood together and even lived together. The three friends decided to finally take up their own residencies. As they all planned together in their shared house, the three friends spent the next month finding new houses to live in.

 

The first friend was not too lucky in finding a new home as his budget was stretched. Of the three, this friend had a lowly paid job at the butcher’s and so was not bringing in a lot of money. He depended mostly on the aid of his two friends and support from his parents to move into an old studio flat. It wasn’t much of a house for him but with some cleaning, refurbishing and the addition of some personal items and decoration, he was able to turn an old, disgusting house into a small, cosy home. The landlord who owned the block of flats was not very attentive to his property and so there were issues with the water and electricity as well as very laidback security systems. Nonetheless, the first friend made his home worthwhile.

 

Motivated by the success of the first, the second friend found a council house in a rural town. He had a steady, average paid job at the supermarket and so, was able to afford a slightly better house than the first friend. The home was already furnished but had some unattractive features inside such as aging wallpaper, dusty corners with cobwebs and ragged carpeting with mould growing in certain places. After a whole day of cleaning, the house looked just as perfect as the first friend’s home. The house was fairly protected with smoke alarms, an alarm system on the garden gate and adequate locks on every door, but just in case, there was a small fire axe in the kitchen for emergencies.

 

The final friend travelled to a most extravagant location for his house. Although he had no job, his parents were rich business owners, and so were able to give the third friend enough funds to allow him to live in a nice gated community. His house was unnecessarily large with plenty of rooms and space. Obviously, the third friend decided to get as many upgrades as possible for his house and was privy to the most up to date security technology and in-home systems.

 

The three friends lived happily for four months until the second friend heard some harrowing news. One day, he was watching TV and saw a news report of a convicted murderer who had recently escaped from prison. The authorities stated that the killer was most likely going to be hiding in the same area the first friend was living. The second friend called his first and warned him of the possible danger.

The first friend was arrogant and laidback, and so was not very concerned by the news, feeling confident that the chances of the serial killer coming after him were astronomical. A few hours passed and it was night. The first friend was asleep on his couch when he heard banging coming from the hallway outside his flat. He approached the door and listened carefully. Footsteps approached and then he heard a noise right in his ear.

 

Knock. Knock.

 

Someone was at the door. The friend opened the door with great curiosity, and less concern, to see a tall man facing down at him. The man was large and scruffy with an untidy beard and tired eyes. He asked the friend if he could borrow any bandages or other medical aids he may have as he showed off a long cut on his left shoulder. The friend was suspicious but invited him in anyway. He directed the man to the kitchen drawer where he had a small box of plasters and a white bandage roll. As the man was patching himself up, the friend turned the TV back on and saw the newsflash his second friend had warned him about. The mugshot showed a man with scruffy hair and untidy beard with dark, empty eyes. As the friend was about to turn and face the man, his eyes shut and everything was dark.

 

He woke up again tied to a chair and covered in water. In front of him, his kitchen sink was overflowing and pouring out on to the floor, flooding the flat. The man had long gone. He frantically scanned the room looking for a way out but could find none. He tried to scream but his mouth was covered by a white bandage. The water filled up and as it spread toward the edge of the counter, the first friend noticed the kettle was missing its plug. He followed the lead trail to see the lead had been cut and the plug was in the socket with the switch on. The bronze wires were resting on the marble counter and the water was slowly approaching. He knew what would happen if the water hit the wires. In a frenzy, he tried to escape the chair but only fell on to his side, his face smacking against the now damp carpet. It was a slow and agonizing feeling at the water finally touched the wires and he felt the electricity coursing through his body. His skin burned and tore apart, revealing gaping chasms of blood and muscle flesh. His eyes shot out of his head and left a trail of blood flowing from the empty, bloody sockets. His bones felt like they were cracking and constricting and his body contorted into a disfigured pretzel shape as he slowly died, still bound to the chair.

 

News quickly spread of the explosion and the two remaining friends were devastated as they discovered their first friend to be among those whom were killed in the explosion. The second friend became paranoid over the next couple of days, closing himself off from anyone and hiding out in his house waiting to either be killed by the murderer or to hear news of the killer’s recapture. His once happy home had degraded further into the scraggly hut it was when he moved into it. He went into a deep depression and refused to do anything.

Eventually, after a week, he even stopped showering, brushing his teeth, changing or washing his clothes or answering the door. All he did was sit in his front room listening to the voicemail recording of his first friend in a state of agonising sadness and loneliness.

 

Three weeks after the death of his friend, it was his time. On a Thursday morning he heard his back door window smash. He immediately jolted to the kitchen and saw the back door window pane shattered and broken glass all over the floor. The glass was mixed in with a small pool of blood, probably from the intruder smashing the glass. He looked around frantically in a wild panic, scanning the kitchen area for any other form of life. Suddenly, there was another smash and the fire axe behind him was gone. Paranoia wasn’t needed to sense what was about to happen. The second friend rushed to the living room to find some sort of weapon to defend himself but was halted by a scruffy man with a large black beard wielding a sizeable fire axe. He looked the second friend dead in the eye as a menacing, beastly smile formed on his face like a giant crack in a mountainside. He stood there, trembling, becoming almost too excited about the next act. He whispered to the friend, “Little pig, little pig, let me in”.

 

Without another word, the killer pounced on to the friend and began hacking away at his body. The axe swung back and forth, connecting with different portions of his body. The first was his hands, then his arms, then his shoulders. The second friend screamed in agony as he saw his own sliced limbs beside him and his shoulder stumps pouring out with blood. Over and over again, even after the piercing screams had died out and the friend lay dead and bloody among his own flesh and bones, the killer still chopped at his lifeless body. The corpse was beyond recognition as the axe had come down at least forty times. The killer then began a sickening ritual in which he lay among the flesh and organs and rolled around in the blood, laughing like a lunatic. He licked slowly at the friend’s eye socket and rubbed the blood on his bare chest, cackling madly as he did so. After having his twisted fun with the chopped corpse, he left a message behind on the wall and made his escape.

 

It was on the news the next day of another victim, among many, of the serial killer which had reached the eyes of the third and final friend. He tried to steel himself and show no fear in his highly secured house and gated community but he still couldn’t help shuddering every time he heard a sound or saw something out of the corner of his eye. The message he saw on the news left by the murderer read; “You should’ve let me in”.

 

Not a week later, the third friend would join the other two. the killer was on a rampage and was apparently getting closer to his community. The third friend kept himself in his house whilst other neighbours exited their homes to search for the killer as a mob. As the third friend watched from his window, he could smell gas coming from the kitchen. It was odd for his house to have a gas leak. He ran downstairs to identify the problem and call the gas company. As he reached the kitchen he saw the very last thing he wanted to see. The killer was in his kitchen, holding a tube connected to a gas pipe with gas flowing freely out of it, and in his other hand, a lighter.

 

“Why?”, the friend asked.

 

With no explanation, the killer sparked the lighter and the house ignited. The flames took only a second to spread throughout the house and toward other houses but to the third friend it seemed to take a lifetime. He saw the flames creeping toward him. He wanted to run but knew he wouldn’t escape, besides that, his feet refused to move. He just stood and watched as the killer’s smile was engulfed in flames. A great pain spread throughout the friend’s body and eventually, there was only darkness. All the neighbours looked at the ruins in awe. The final friend’s house had well and truly been blown down.

 


© Copyright 2017 J.J. Matthews. All rights reserved.

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