Mason

Then the knocking started all over the house.

That is the part people have the hardest time believing, but I swear it happened.

It wasn't just the bedroom window anymore.

It came from the back door, then the kitchen window, then the laundry room side of the house, then the bedroom window again.

Three knocks each time, always three, not fast, not random.

It moved around the house in a circle, knocking on every place it could find.

The dogs were howling now, both of them, but from somewhere down the hallway.

I could hear their nails sliding on the floor like they were trying to get away from every wall at once.

The voice changed too.

Sometimes it was Carla, sometimes it was my mom.

Once it was Ray, saying, It's me, open up.

Once it sounded like a little girl laughing, which was so out of place that I almost screamed.

Then it stopped using voices altogether and began making a sound like a deer call, that high thin bleat they make.

Except it stretched too long and ended in that clicking from its mouth.

The dispatcher stayed with me.

I don't remember everything she said.

I remember her telling me to breathe.

I remember her asking if there was an interior room or closet.

I crawled to the closet and got inside with the shotgun across my lap.

I left the bedroom door locked and the dresser against it.