Uninvited Guests

I've been fascinated by mysticism since childhood, but over time, all that remained of this fascination was the desire to thoroughly unnerve myself by watching yet another horror movie or reading a creepy story. In real life, I've never encountered anything creepy or inexplicable, until recently.

It happened in June, a warm weekend, and my whole family went off to the countryside, stocking up on everything they needed and leaving me the apartment and money, which I easily planned to spend in nightclubs over the next couple of days. I was enjoying the freedom and anticipation of a great party that night. However, by evening, I developed a slight fever, and the desire to go anywhere suddenly vanished. That's why I settled down to watch movies. By the time the next one ended, the clock was already showing one o'clock.

I wasn't at all sleepy yet. I headed for the kitchen, and then a chill ran down my spine. The feeling of inner unrest, which had appeared out of nowhere, subsided as abruptly as it had begun, but I decided that since I was heading toward the kitchen, I should lock all the doors and the hallway—I was home alone, after all, and I felt safer that way.

Having locked myself away as best I could and made a couple of sandwiches, I headed to the computer, logged into World of Warcraft, and escaped reality for an indefinite period. After completing another instance, I struggled to look at the clock with my tired eyes—it read 2:11.

"I need to go to bed," I thought, and then my thoughts were interrupted by the sound. It was as if a chord had snapped inside me. A wild, primal fear descended upon me, so much so that goosebumps danced across my body like a cancan (even now, when I remember it, I break out in a cold sweat). I must say that sometimes you're afraid of something specific, but this wasn't the case: I couldn't quite figure out why I was reacting this way to a completely ordinary knock on the door, but my subconscious decided for me.

Yes, it was a knock on the door. And now I can say with certainty why I reacted to it that way. The thing is, no one lived in the apartment next door: it was rented out, and the last tenants had moved out a few weeks ago, leaving it completely empty. This meant there shouldn't have been anyone alive in the vestibule except me, and I'd locked the iron door a few hours ago. Someone outside my apartment had managed to get past the iron door...

The knock came again, this time more insistent. I don't know how I overcame it, but I moved closer to the door, trying not to make any noise, but even to hold my breath, and began to listen. Someone behind the door snored, then fell silent. And suddenly he pounded on the door with all his might—it seemed like more than one creature was there, as the pounding moved so quickly across the entire door that it was hard to imagine anyone could move their limbs so quickly.

I leaped into the room and grabbed my phone with trembling hands. I cursed the touchscreen a hundred times, but I finally got through to my boyfriend. I don't know what he was thinking, as I couldn't articulate a word, but he said he'd take a taxi and would be there soon. That meant I had to hold out for about 30 minutes. I wasn't thinking about how I'd open the door when he arrived, or how I'd explain it all. Panic was the only thing driving me.

Meanwhile, the howling and scratching started outside the door, then the pounding again. Tears streamed down my cheeks, but I didn't make a sound. I'd never been so scared in my life. Suddenly, the light in the hallway went out and laughter started behind the door, sickeningly, in various ways. Then I heard something that made me grab the phone and tell my boyfriend I was fine and to come over in the morning—a hoarse, yet childish voice from behind the door cheerfully said, "He'll come, and you'll open it anyway. Hee-hee-hee... So why wait, let us in..."

I was shaking wildly. The commotion behind the door continued, but I no longer paid attention. As soon as I lay down on the bed, I fell into a deep, comatose sleep.

My boyfriend finally arrived in the morning. As he said, the iron vestibule door was wide open. As for the front door, we both saw it. The new brown upholstery was gone. Only a piece of wood with huge scratches and, apparently, teeth marks. I immediately packed the essentials and went to my boyfriend's place. My family believed me, and how could they not, when the evidence was right there.

Now I'm afraid they'll ever come back, and the doors will be open...