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The Knock at Midnight: A Short Scary Story
It was midnight. The rain hammered against the old window like frantic fingers. Suddenly—three sharp knocks. Not from the door. From inside the closet. My heart stopped. I knew I shouldn't look, but my hand moved on its own. The door creaked open. Inside wasn't clothes. It was a void, staring back at me. I slammed it shut and ran. But then... the knocking started again. This time... from under my bed.
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It was midnight. The rain hammered against the old window like frantic fingers. Suddenly—three sharp knocks. Not from the door. From inside the closet. My heart stopped. I knew I shouldn't look, but my hand moved on its own. The door creaked open. Inside wasn't clothes. It was a void, staring back at me. I slammed it shut and ran. But then... the knocking started again. This time... from under my bed.
