A sudden knock on my door awoke me from a startling nightmare. I turned to the clock; it was three in the morning. I went back to bed. A second knock appeared once again this time the knock was a pounding sound much more of a demand than plead. I thought for a second perhaps it could be my mother, but oddly to say, no one called me from the other side the door. I dared not to get up and answer it. I went back to bed. This time I lied there in my bed with the covers up to my nose in case if the knock appeared. A third knock, this time I simply could not resist. I got up placed my slippers on both feet and walked aggressively to the door. I opened the door only to witness nothing in sight. Was I dreaming or just hallucinating? I strained my eyes in the darkness pressuring them to see something or someone, but nothing appeared. Perhaps it was the pipes? I asked my stepfather to fix those pipes because it always sounded creepy and disturbing at night, since the home we live in about twenty something years ago. I could just image what lied underneath our home before the foundation was dug up and cemented and sold to my grandmother. My mother would tell us stories about this home, which I find her stories mist comical, yet scary. But, tonight, was another story. The knocks appear repeatedly. Who in their retches mind would be doing this? Knocking at my door in the wee hours in the night?

I shut the door behind me and walked slowly to my bed. The knock appeared again. “What?” I said to myself quietly, more surprisingly as if the knock was the very first. Who could be on the other side of the door at three in morning waking me from my sleep? A fourth time, “Hello,” I said. Nothing, strange to say, no one is answering to my greeting. This time I rushed to the door and opened with all my might; no one. I looked out in the corridor in case I could see someone running to hide or something that can cause an object to tap on my door. But, I though to my self, it couldn’t be an object because it’s constantly repeat it. No, it has to be someone. Who could be doing this? Who would mastermind this setup to disturb me while I am sleeping? I stopped in the middle of the corridor and began checking off names that lived in the house on my palm.

My mom, nope, simply couldn’t be she so pure of heart. My stepfather, yes maybe it’s my father, but come to realize it he’s working the graveyard shift at the Oceanography Institute, so it could not be him. He told my mother at dinnertime that he wasn’t going to be home until dawn so she wouldn’t have to wait up. My sister, nope, as well, she’s at a slumber party and won’t be returning home in a few days. Weird, I said to myself. Still nothing appeared while I stood there in the middle of the corridor. So, I did something that I usually never do. I got my baseball bat from my bedroom and I walked down the corridor to my parent’s room. I opened the door quietly without making a sound. I could hear my mother snore peacefully. Still I could not see anything in sight. I shut the door behind me and walked back to my room quickly before something does reveal itself.

As I closed the bedroom door, my closet door was wide open. I stood there dazed and dumfounded. I stuttered motionlessly wondering who could be playing these silly games, which I find this most unfairly and quite spooky to the extent. I went to shut the closet door. I walked no more than six steps to the closet door, this time I felt someone in here. I was not alone. The bedroom became chilly, I glanced at the window but it was temporaily shut. I was too frightened; oddly, I could not hear the wind hollowing because usually the branches on the tree right outside my window would tap on the glass. There was no wind, not a single sound. I could hear only myself breathe; I was exhausted and literally scared which causes me to breathe hard and I don’t suffer from asthma.

I shut the door immediately behind me and jumped no more than three feet onto my bed. I threw the covers over me and forced myself to sleep. Perhaps this is a dream, a nightmare. Yes, it is a nightmare. I will be waking in seconds. This is all a nightmare. Minutes later, the bed covers were pulled away from me, my bedroom door and closet door swung open. The window remained shut, but the wind was hallowing in my bedroom. It was cold.

A monstrous voice called my name, but I could not see this person. I closed my eyes so tightly, but I still could hear the voice. I was afraid to open my eyes. I could only image the scene from The Exorcist when twelve year old girl begins to float. A Thunderous noise appeared from my ceiling, but no rain. I didn’t hesitate for one second. I jumped off my bed and ran out of the room. I didn’t run far only a few steps from my bedroom door. I tripped hard to the floor making this enormous sound of a thump. I turned quickly to see what had tripped me. A huge OUIJA board stood there in front of me. Every door in the corridor burst opened. I laid out an enormous scream. The sensation of my lungs burning nearly drove me insane. The echo of the voice haunted me inside. I couldn’t resist anymore. I was reacting madly from the voice. I jerked and flustered in the corridor. It felt if someone was in me. I don’t know what I was feeling, this has never happened to me before. I laid out a cry to my mother.
Nothing, she did not come rescue me. I sat there wanting desperately to sob, but what good would that do at this time. The wind in the corridor began to soften peacefully. My bedroom door shut and the other remaining doors as well. A man appeared in front of me. He was tall, slim and muscular. I couldn’t see his face or complexion of his skin. I knew it could not be a woman because there isn’t a woman that bold, tall and strong in America, perhaps in Scandinavia or in Croatia. It was not a vampire because I’m not in Romania, and Vampires simply do not exist, the blood sucking Vampires that come out at nights and suck the blood from the livings.
I tried to speak, but my mouth was dry. “Abraham,” he said. I froze immediately. It wasn’t freighted that he knew my name but the way he said it. I heard that name constantly as a child when I was usually had done something wrong. The only person with that deep of a voice was my father. Oddly to say, my father committed suicide three years ago. He killed himself because he was diagnosed with Cancer and he vowed that he would not beaten by Cancer, and so, he checked out early. I wanted to cry because I missed him so much but I was scared because it was so real.

He said nothing to me, which he didn’t need to. I was staring at my father’s ghost. Now I was dementedly insane. He brought out his hand for me to take. I took it. His hand was smooth but his grip was hard. Far behind him a bright light appeared, it seemed like an open portal from a star trek scene or the gates to the heavens. He pulled me to the light, but I tried to keep my composure and refused. My mother told me her nightmare once when my great grandmother tried to convince her to walk with her to the light and my mother refused. My grandmother was scared from there on she Prayed to the lord every night to keep my mother away from the light. Now, I was experiencing the same connection what my mother had experienced years ago. Only this time it was my father. I very was angry he left my sister and me. We, my mother, sister and I assumed my father would hold out his Cancer and return to us. But he did not. I hated him for his decision. I walked with him to the light because I felt pity, but realistically it was my only way out. I knew he wouldn’t harm me. I stared at him and he stared at me. He smiled at me warmly and I returned with a smile to him. He put his fingers to my eyes to shut them. I felt his cold fingers and for the last time I obeyed him. I took a deep breath and fell forward. Then I woke up.