During one affronting night, there came a rapping at his door, a rapping that was faint, but clear for him to hear. ‘Who could that be?‘ he thought to himself, ‘Who comes knocking at my door,?’
He didn’t want to stir, nor leave his bed, where he mourned his constant ache, but the knocking persisted, forcing to interrupt his sobbing.
“Go away!” he rebuffed, but the rapping didn’t stop. “Go away, I say!”
He had to set his feelings aside as the rapping wouldn’t stop, feeling dispirited he slowly shuffles to his front door, thinking of many ways to be rid of the intruder, but when he opened the door there is no one standing where they should be standing, not a soul. Was he hearing things? Was there not a knocking coming from his door? Was he dreaming? With a sigh, he closes the door and shuffles back to bed, and before he lays back down the rapping commences again.
“Who could it be?” he said to himself. “Could it be some one is toying with me? Am I such a pitiful man, that I have become a jester for their amusement?”
He answers the door again, and finds the other side empty, no one is standing there. He closes the door and turns away, and before he shuffles to bed, the rapping commences again.
“I’m a broken man,” he says out loud, “Why won’t you go away?”
He opens the door and once again there is no one there standing. He closes the door and waits to hear feet from the other side, nothing happens, nothing moves, nothing rustles. He feigns to turn away when the knocking commences again and he hurriedly opens the door, only find no one staring back at him. His feelings of anguish are replaced by frustration and he quickly closes the door.
“What is the meaning of this?” He wonders out loud. “What could possibly be causing this? Could it be the children that live upstairs or my landlord searching for his pay? I won’t dare to think it’s something from the unknown. What would they want from me?”
A dread came over him, ‘is it possible? Could it be?‘ he thought to himself.
With fear he ran to his bed and dove underneath the covers, hoping to escape the presence of the one knocking at his door. Without having to wait to discover who it was, someone had slipped in without him noticing.
“Come out from underneath those covers,” a deep voice spoke to him from somewhere in his room.
“Noooo,” the man howled, “nooo.”
“I say come out from your hiding,” the voice was stern and direct.
He was trembling with fright, a sense of doom came over him and without arguing, he slowly crawled out, obeying out of fear of his life. He kept his eyes tightly closed, not daring to face Death.
“Now open your eyes,” commanded the voice.
He shook his head no.
“Why not?” asked the voice.
“I’m too afraid,” responded the man.
“Afraid of what?”
“Afraid of what I will see,” said the man.
“Very well,” said the voice, “I will hide myself, will you then open your eyes?”
The man nodded yes.
“All is well,” said the voice, “open your eyes.”
He cautiously opened his eyes and to his surprise a pitch black darkness had descended upon him. It was so dark be could barely see his hands in front of him. The darkness was rather calming and a thought came over him and he had to pinch himself, to make sure he was still alive.
“Ouch,” he had pinched himself a little too hard.