Knock, knock, knock.

 

“Who the hell is that?” thought Rachael.

 

It was late Halloween eve. Her mum was at work at the hospital so she was home alone. With Covid-19 back in full swing she wasn't expecting any visitors at the door. She muted the TV and waited, seeing if whoever it was would try again or leave. After about a minute she reached for the remote to turn the sound back up.

 

Knock, knock, knock.

 

She jumped in shock before gingerly heading into the hallway. The house was cold as the first real frost of October had arrived and the large rooms in the Victorian building took forever to warm up. She tip-toed towards the large, thick, red wooden door. It had no windows and just a small antiquated letterbox, barely wide enough to slide a letter through. Standing just to the side of the letterbox, out of view in case anyone peered through, she gently pressed her ear against the rough wood of the door to listen for voices. The house was quiet but for the gentle tick of the old clock upstairs on the landing.

 

Knock, knock, knock

 

The sound pierced the quiet of the empty house and the rapping rung sharply in Rachael's ear-hole as she pulled her head away from the door.

 

“Who is it?” she shouted instinctively with a quiver in her voice.

 

There was a pause.

 

“Trick or treat?” a low voice slowly rasped.

 

Rachael stood in silence staring at the door for a few seconds before replying, “No thank you.”

 

Another pause. She could feel something at the other side of the door no more than a metre from her. Like when you feel someone in a room with you. It made her queasy.

 

“Trick or treat?” came the voice again, identical to the first time.

 

“No, go away. You shouldn't be here,” said Rachael more forcefully this time.

 

Her ears strained, listening for any sound and hoping to hear that of footsteps walking down the steps and away from the door.

 

“Trick or treat?”

 

The voice was now more eerie than ever with its persistence and unchanging tone.

 

“Look, just fuck off or I'm calling the police…..”

 

The clock ticked on and the light from the muted TV in the adjoining room flashed through the gap in the living room door. Rachael stood frozen and waited.

 

“That did it,” she thought to herself. But as soon as the words ran through her head the voice came again.

 

“Trick or treat?”

 

Rachael felt a little anger well up inside her trying to make itself known amongst a whole lot of fear.

 

“Yeh I'd like to see you do a trick when the police turn up and arrest you!”

 

With those words everything stopped. The light from the TV, the hum from the fridge, even the cold draught squeezing under the front door that Rachael had felt on her bare toes. Everything froze but for the old clock.

 

 

Then an abrupt high pitched,

 

 

Brrrp Brrrp ……………………… Brrrp Brrrp

 

Rachael nearly jumped out of her skin as the phone rang.

 

“Jeeeeesus!” she cried out in relief as she headed towards the phone in the living room. “Who the hell calls on a landline these days?” she thought to herself. But before she could reach the phone, it stopped.

 

The house went quiet again. She stood in the middle of the room and composed herself. Taking deep breaths in and out she cursively glanced at the still muted TV where that women with snot hanging from her nose talked into the camera during “The Blair Witch Project”.

 

“Such a dumb fil….,” she began muttering before stopping abruptly and turning her head sharply back to the hall. A faint scratching noise was coming from the front door. She crept towards the hall once again and peered around the corner.

 

Scrrrtch scrrrtch scrttch

 

It sounded like a claw. Rachael pictured Freddie Kruger's knife fingers in her head, scratching at the wood on the other side to torment her or in an attempt to gouge his way into the house.

 

“Right I'm calling the police now!” she said loudly, struggling to get the words out through her rapid anxious breathing.

 

The scratching stopped. Yet another silence. Rachael was now shaking both through fear and the adrenaline pumping through her body.

 

Miiowwwwwwwww

 

The sound brought sudden relief to Rachael as she rolled her eyes in acknowledgement. She walked to the door and after hearing it again, unlocked and then cautiously opened it.

 

Miley squeezed through the small gap, brushed past her legs and scampered upstairs.

 

“You scared the shit out of me you stupid cat!” said Rachael, while peering out into the darkness.

 

The fresh cold air tingled her skin and pinched at the tip of her nose. The full moon lit the four stairs that led down the garden path to the street but the corners of the small front garden hid in the shadows of the tall bushes on either side. She glared hard, straining to see any movement in the night and listened for the smallest of sounds. There was nothing but the distant rumble of the traffic from the main road about two hundred metres away.

 

She purposefully pushed the door shut and leaned against it for a few seconds enjoying a moment's relief. Miley had disappeared around the corner up the stairs which was strange as she would always head straight for her food bowl in the kitchen when she came in and rarely ventured upstairs.

 

“Miley?” Rachael confusingly called out before slowly climbing the stairs.

 

Each wooden step creaked uncomfortably under her weight. She turned the corner at the top to find Miley backed into a corner by one of the bedroom doors. Her hackles were raised and she looked petrified. As Rachael went a little closer the cat opened her mouth and let out a hiss, something Rachael had never seen her do before.

 

Rachael backed off and headed back down the stairs. She figured something had spooked Miley and so it best to leave her to chill out.

 

At the bottom step she froze and stared wide-eyed at the door. The key was no longer in the lock and she hadn't removed it.

 

There was someone else in the house.