The Knock



   A young, lonesome writer sitting by himself,in his empty apartment. Staring at the computer screen thinking and pondering what to write. As a writer, he would always have ideas,brewing,ready to go. From his mind to his fingertips, to the computer screen, they would travel and take shape in a form of a story that is brought to life by the reader. But not today. Today the young writer was stomped. He was lost for words,for ideas and nothing was coming to his mind. That’s a first for him,as he always had a story to tell.
   The writer was not well know but he was searching and waiting for his big break to come from his next story. The small light of the table lamp was menacingly casting shadow over the midnight hour. The night itself was peaceful,quiet and still. It was almost ominous, as the calm before the storm. The light breeze blowing,catching the attention of our young writer. He stood up,walked towards the window and took a moment to enjoy the view of the city lights in the peace of the night,in the quiet of the dark. 


   Knock!..A knock coming from somewhere but the writer did not pay attention.This building always has something going on,neighbours,pets,old floor boards..it’s nothing.
   Knock!Knock!Knock! The knocking continued,it was louder. The writer went to check on the door. He asked whether anyone was there.No answer. He took a deep breath and…nobody was there. Empty.
He returned to the apartment,sat down behind his computer and decided to try again. See what comes up.
   Knock!Knock!Knock! It was back,louder than ever. It seemed to be coming from the walls themselves this time. The ceiling,the floor. It was hard to know for sure where the knocking was coming from but it did not stop and it was only getting louder!..The writer banged on the wall and asked neighbours to be quiet,but he got no response.
   Knock!Knock!Knock!Knock!
It was getting louder with every second,it seemed to be getting close to the young writer. He crouched,covered his head and screamed: “Make it stop!!!!”…

The noise stopped.
Our young writer awake in his bed,covered in cold sweat.Just a dream.Another nightmare. He got out of the bed,got a glass of cold water and sat down to write a new  story.

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