The Knocking

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: The Horror House
A descent into desperation.

Submitted: April 03, 2016

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Submitted: April 03, 2016



There was a knocking sound, always, a slow steady knocking. Some days it faded into the background, I could barely hear it, and for a little while, I could forget it. Mostly, though, it was an excruciating presence in my life that I had learned to live with. I found coping mechanisms to deal with its regrettable reliability, often being the loudest person in the room, listening to loud music, and thinking aloud.

Yet for all the effort I made in holding on to sanity, I was slowly but surely losing my grip. I felt my controlled loudness gain a manic edge. My smile was too wide, and my muscles tightened with the strain. The glint in my eyes, no longer a sign of cheeky happiness.

At night, when I found myself able to fall asleep, I would wake up to terrible piercing shrieks, only to realise that they were coming from my own mouth. It was the end, I was coming undone, and there was no containing it any longer. The knocking grew louder. No longer was I able to let it fade into the background. No longer was I able to carry on with daily life. There was only the knocking. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

No more. I could not face this existence. I had to silence the sounds. I shouted. I screamed. I blasted music to the loudest decibels, and through it all still came the knocking sound, the torturous sound.

There was nothing to be done. It had to end. My neighbours were the ones who lodged the complaint. A formal noise level complaint to the police. That is how they found me lying on the floor, in a halo of blood. I took a screw driver to my left ear and plunged it in.

Now I am silent, immobile, but awake and conscious. The knocking continues, but I can no longer scream.

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