Night Visit

After high school, I moved to another city, went to university, and lived in a rented apartment. Of course, I really missed all my friends and parents, but I especially missed my older sister, whom I love very much. I often had dreams about friends and family, quite strange dreams. They asked me for things, either food or something. That night, I had a dream about Alena (my sister). She was sitting on my bed, very persistently asking me to give her salt. I woke up in the middle of the night. Naturally, I was home alone. Before I could fully recover, the doorbell rang. I went to the door, looked through the peephole—it was Alena. I was delighted and said loudly,

"I'll open the door now, just you wait!"

The door was opened with keys, the keys were in my bag. I took the bag, dumped everything out, and froze. I must have just woken up completely and realized the situation. It's two in the morning. My sister is standing at the door. Even if we imagine she took the last bus, rode for five hours, and then drove around the city for two hours for some reason, it's still completely incomprehensible why she didn't call me, and... she didn't have a bag. None. No suitcase, no backpack, not even a purse.

I stared at the pile of things in front of me, then picked up my cell phone and dialed Alena. Five rings, then a sleepy, disgruntled voice:

"Hello?"

"Are you standing outside my door?"

"What?! I'm asleep, actually!"

I walked up to the door and, my heart sinking, looked through the peephole. There she was. Looking straight at me. And suddenly, something almost imperceptibly changed in her face. But I couldn't figure out what exactly, because immediately afterward, I heard a pop—the light bulb above the door had burned out. And then something happened that made me jump back from the door and cower in a corner. Alena (or someone pretending to be her) began frantically pounding on the door and unleashing inhuman, wordless, animalistic screams. Sometimes they sounded pitiful, as if begging for the door to open, sometimes they became threatening, scaring me half to death. The phone was still in my hands. "What's going on there? Are you there? What's wrong?!" Alena screamed, but I didn't have the strength to answer her. I pressed myself into the corner and watched as the rather flimsy door to my apartment shook. This lasted for about ten minutes, after which everything went quiet. None of the neighbors came out into the building, as if they hadn't heard the screams.

I called my sister back, who had already alerted everyone (she called my mother, some friends in my town, and the police), and assured her that I was okay. Naturally, I didn't feel like sleeping, so I went to the kitchen to have some tea. But before I could even get a cup, my heart sank again—the doorbell rang again. At first, I didn't want to open it, but then someone said, "Open up, it's the police!"

I breathed a sigh of relief. Sure enough, my caring sister had even managed to find the phone number for our precinct and called them! I went to the door and peered through the peephole. The burned-out bulb obscured everything—just a vague shadow.

"Uh..." I said. "Thank you for your concern, everything's fine now."

"I need to go in and make sure," someone insisted. "Open the door."

"Thank you very much," I replied as gently as I could, knowing I wasn't ready to open the door just yet, even to the police. "But everything really is fine. Sorry to bother you. Have a good night."

There was a pause. The man on the other side seemed unsure what to do.

"Okay," he said, his voice somewhat impatient. "Could you please lend me some salt then?"