The evil behind the door
There was one time, about 5 years ago, when my mother complained about someone ringing the doorbell. It always happened at night, between 2 and 3 a.m. Persistently demandingly. My mom said that every time she got surprised that no one from the family, except her, heard it, so she got out of bed, walked into the hallway and, not rushing to open the door, asked - "Who's there?" And the only answer to her question was silence.
We didn’t have a peephole at that time, it was installed during redecoration, 2 years ago, so she listened carefully, thinking that she could hear steps or rustling outside the door. But in vain – they called again, and were silent again. And every time my mother didn’t dare to open the door, and returned to bed.
In the morning, before leaving for work, she complained to me and my father that someone had come again at night, insistently rung the doorbell, and didn’t respond. My father is, by nature, a skeptic and a humorist, so he said it was my mom’s conscience or ghost of the salary increase. My mom didin’t dare joke about it. Just like my father, I hadn’t heard any of these strange noises, and thought that my mom had imagined them in her sleep. But it kept happening every week on an annoyingly regular basis. In the end, my mother just stop answering the door, and these ringing in the doorbell at night stopped. As it turned out, only for a while.
Since last year, I began to suffer from insomnia - could lie for hours in the dark, contemplating the ceiling, listening to the ticking clock. Time on such nights drags on like molasses. Only when the dawn is seen behind the windows, comes the long awaited sleep - usually dull and colorless. I didn’t try to take sleeping pills, but I drank herbal tea (chamomile, mint or lime tree) before going to bed, but it didn’t have any effect. So nights, the time to rest and sleep, turned into the time of painful wakefulness for me.
It happened on one of those sleepless nights. It was the beginning of February, the night was moonless and deaf. It was snowing. I was alone in the apartment. My mother and father had gone to my godmother, but couldn’t return because the bus had been canceled due to bad weather. I went to sleep late, at about 1 a.m. Usually I go to sleep earlier because I study in the morning. But as soon as my head hit the pillow, as I understood that I couldn’t sleep again. I tossed and turned, wrapped myself in a blanket and duvet, covered my head with a pillow, doing my best to make me fall asleep. But all my attempts failed. Following an old trick I had to turn on my back and lie still, thinking about everything and waiting when the sky begins to lighten, because with the first rays of dawn sleep would come. Suddenly I shuddered with surprise - the doorbell rang. Very shrilly. Someone was pressing the button too strongly, as if also trying to wake up our neighbors. I decided that my parents came back home, and immediately rushed to the front door. I had already put my head out to the door lock, when I automatically asked "Who's there?". No answer. I cringed. The doorbell rang again, and with the same persistence.
- Who's there? – I ask - Answer!
Silence was the only response. I listened - no rustling outside the door - complete silence. And then I felt terribly, I felt chills. Another ringer. I stood on tiptoe and looked in the "peephole" ... The hall was illuminated by bright light from two bulbs. At the threshold I saw a boy of 10 years old, in a simple anorak, with no cap, in warm boots, with mittens hanging from his sleeves. Dark hair, a round face, but without any expression, big colorless eyes. It was snowing outside, but there wasn’t even a snowflake on him, the clothes completely dry. He raised his head and looked up, as if he knew that I was looking at him. And then I thought how this short kid managed to reach the doorbell? And why didn’t he respond? And where did he come from?! There wasn’t any child of his age in our building! After these thoughts, horror crept into my mind... I kept looking in the peephole, when suddenly the boy pursed his lips, and his face immediately darkened. He opened his mouth and said:
- Don’t look at me! – his voice was hoarse, raspy, like that of an old man – Don’t look, or else you’ll regret it!
I started screaming in horror, and jumped back into the hallway of the apartment ... And then he started scratching the door and murmuring hoarsely, "You saw ... saw ... saw ...". I was paralyzed with horror and didn’t know what to do ... And he kept scratching and wheezing ... – Dear God! – I scream, - Protect me from the Devil! - and begin to cross the door with my trembling hand:
- Help me, O Lord! Protect me from evil!
And almost immediately the scratching stopped... Something wheezed, banged on the door and got quiet. But I kept drawing the sign of cross in the air. I did it for 10 more minutes. I listened - silence. I didn’t dare to look in the peephole. I got back into the room, turned the light on, and sat on the bed until morning came, until I passed out from stress and fatigue.
My parents returned by noon. They woke me up and complained about the bad weather for a long time. Then they asked what had happened to our front door. They said there were scratches on it - we have it upholstered in leatherette. The layer had been only recently changed. The scratches were small, but noticeable and deep. I thought I’d faint when I saw them myself, but I didn’t, restrained. Since then, no one heard the doorbell ringing at night. Mom too. And thank God. Someone or something clearly came to terms with the fact that nobody will open the door for it or it got frightened that it was seen. Or it keepsknocking on another door and, God forbid, it will open ...