Rabu, 09 November 2016

The Knocking

I was in school. It was the middle of a reading lesson, and I needed to pee badly. At that age, actually, a fair few kids still wet themselves and I always got paranoid about embarrassing myself in public like that. I stuck my hand up and told Mrs. Zebby that I needed to use the bathroom. After usual speech about how I 'should gone at break". She gave me the key to the Disabled-Access toilet (as it was the closest one to my classroom).

It was the middle of fifth period and the corridors were empty and seemed cavernous to me. I was a short, scrawny thing back then. I sometimes had trouble with doors, especially unlocking them, and I fumbled for a good minute or two in trying to get the blasted thing open.

Anyway, as I sat on my porcelain throne, there came a knocking at the door.

"Someone's in here." I called, disgruntled at this disturbance

There came a pause, then the knocking resumed. It was faster now, more determined.

"Wait a minute."

The knocking slow and a voice replied, "Let me in. I need to come inside."

The speaker's tone was thin and reedy, an adult I didn't recognize. I may have been six, but I alsod had a fairly good  understanding of bathroom etiquette. Mainly that you didn't let more than one person into an area only slightly larger than cupboard.

"Go away."

Then knocking intensified again until it was a frantic drum-beat, just a few feet from me and out-of-sight. I heard the voice shouting something, growing more, and more desperate.

"Let me in! Just open the door, please!"

I was terrified, by that point. The hammering and yelling was so loud and yet nobody had come to investigate it. Eventually, my teacher came to find me, angry because I had been gone almost half an hour. When I refused open the door to let her in. She got a spare key from the receptionist and then took me to the headmaster's office and called my parents. I was suspended for the rest of the week. I never told anyone what happened.

It was a few weeks before my next encounter with this phenomenon. I had just celebrated my seventh birthday and my family were having a barbecue in my honour. It was gloriously sunny day, but as soon as we'd set everything up in the allotments behind our house, the coal refused to light. My dad asked to go and get some fire-starters from the shed in the front garden.

It was pretty cramped inside and I wouldn't fit all the way, so I just opened it up, stood on tip-toes to reach the shelf holding my objective, then shut the door. As I turn away, a frantic knocking hit the other side of the door.

"Open up! I need come through!" This voice was not the one I'd heard the month before. It was deeper, more brooding and angry.

I said nothing and hurried away. I had no idea what was happening, but frightened me. As I walked away , there came final 'thump', like a first being slammed against wood, and I heard this voice again.

"You little bastard. I'll rip your fucking teeth out. Le me through."

I ran back to my party and spent the rest of the day glancing over my shoulder.

As you might have guessed by now, there were a lot of these voices. I count at least thirty, total. Every month or so. I used to get them: pleading to be let through doors. Almost always it would be immediately after I shut the door behind me. as though these strange entities had been following me. I never told anyone, but to be honest, I kinda just got used to it. It always made me jump, and some of the voices would make me feel uneasy. But I knew that I was safe, so long as I did not open the door.Some of the voices, I got used to, to the extent that I even named them. There was one which used to appear at my front door, at home. We have frosted glass and I could see a silhouette of an average-size man wearing a cap of some kind. He niever spoke but occasionally would push envelopes containing blank pieces or paper through the letterbox. I called him the postman. He was one of the more unsettling ones. If I tried to speak to him, he would look up, sharply, then begin knocking. I generally left the postman alone.

Twenty years on and I have retained as much normality as possible. I have plenty of friends and I even have an on-and-off relationship with girl I met last year. Not bad for guy who wakes up in the middle of the night and listens intently to noises you can't hear on the other side of the door. Yeah, my buddies think I'm strange and kooky but they put up with it. They're all great. I'll miss them.

You see, things have started to get strange. Well, stranger than usual, I suppose. Three weeks ago, I woke, sweating and crying, though I do not know why. My dream had been, from what I recall, fairly normal, when a huge shadow had abruptly fallen over everything. Literally, the second.I opened my eyes, there came the knocking at my bedroom door. Not just normal knocking, though. This was truly frantic.

"Who goes there?" I yelled.

"P-Please help us--" it replied. I was surprise. It was the sadistic, angry voice that I remember from my father's shed on my seventh birthday but it seemed genuinely sincere. There was a pained tone to itu, too;  as though the speaker were grievously wounded. I actually found myself pulling back the sheets to get up but I hesitated. I had never before been tempted to open the door. I suppose, as a child, I had so rigorously  drummed-in to my head the idea that whatever lay beyond was evil that it was just common sense. To be quiet honest, I came very close to letting the thing into my room, that morning, I held out, in the end.

It got worse. Just two days later, I was in my local corner-shop. I'd just paid for a bottle of milk and a newspaper when a great force slammed against the shop door. Simultaneously, a voice began screaming: a long, keening squeal of pain. I whirled to face the door, but there were so many fliers plastered over the glass that I could only just make out the shape of a woman on the other side, slapping her palm against the window. The shopkeeper stared at me, as though I were crazy. In the end, I asked if he had a bathroom I could use, murmured some half-thought-out excuse and hid there for ten minutes until the screaming stopped. There were four more accidents between then and now: a mixture of screams and tearful begging. The postman stopped by yesterday, too. He knocked, politely, before sliding his usual letter through the letterbox.

Then another....then another...

A total of ten plain, brown envelopes. The postman waited for a few minutes, knocking occasionally, and then he left me alone.

Each letter contained a sheet of A4 paper. But somebody had taken a black pen to the pages, scribbling and shading them with such vigour that there were large tears around the center and the edges were frayed. I shoved them back into their envelopes and tried to put it from my mind.

Earlier, my bedroom door shook violently. It wasn't a scream or a howl or a roar that I heard, through. It was just crying. Dozens and dozens of voices, sobbing quietly. Another blow struck my door. Plaster flaked from the walls and twirled to the carpet. Still no pleas or bargaining, just sobbing.


I jump up from my chair


A hairline  crack split the frame of the door in one corner.

My phone began to ring and I heard a sharp rapping at the glass of my window, behind the curtains. I tried answering the phone but it was simply yet more voices crying. Not even sobbing, though: more like bawling in terror and anguish. I hung up but it kept ringing, so I took the battery out.

I have shoved most of my furniture against the door and window. It has been three hours since this latest attempt at entry began. The battering has not abated.Nor has the crying. I'm fairly sure that my door won't hold much longer. As for my mediocre; it could be swept aside in two minutes. I find myself faced with the very-real possibility of death,  so I am writing this memoir of sorts, just in case something does happen.


What do they want?


Do they even want to hurt me?


They seemed fearless, even malicious before.


What could have driven them to this?


Maybe I should open the door.


Maybe I should let hem in

Silence fell. I realized that even the crying had ceased. For whole minute, I sat there. Then I got up and hurried to my door, eager to escape this claustrophobic situation. Perharps I'd go outside, where I could be far away from any doors and from the damned knocking. I pulled-away my barricade and turned the handle.


Kneeling, I peered through the keyhole.Beyond my bedroom door was not the corridor that I remembered, but another room, some kind of library or classroom, I think. It seemed unoccupied, but for one kid, sitting and reading with his back to me. I banged on the door.

"Hey, kid. Let me out, okay?"

He glanced over his shoulder.

"Yeah. Over here. Could you open the door, please."

"I can't. I'm in detention. I'm not supposed to talk to anyone. Go away."

He turned from me. Confused and exasperated, I began to stand up. A loud 'bang" shattered the silence once more. I realized it sounded like a first being pounded against glass. My window.

Aku berada di sekolah. Saat itu sedang pelajaran membaca dan aku sangat butuh buang air kecil. Di umur-umur itu, banyak anak kecil ngompol dan aku selalu ketakutan mengalami hal memalukan seperti itu di tengah-tengah orang. Aku mengacungkan tangan dan mengatakan pada Bu Zebby bahwa aku butuh ke kamar mandi. Setelah berbicara hal-hal biasa pada keadaan seperti itu, dia memberikan kunci kamar mandi yang selalu terkunci, dekat dengan kelasku.

Koridor kosong dan tampak seperti gua bagiku. Aku berpenampilan pendek dan kurus. Aku terkadang mempunyai masalah dengan pintu, terutama saat membukanya dan sekarang aku meraba-raba selama beberapa waktu agar pintu sial ini terbuka.

Namun demikian, ketika aku duduk di tahta porselenku, ada ketukan di pintu.

"Ada orangnya." Aku menjawab dengan perasaan tidak nyaman dengan gangguan ini.

Suasana hening sejenak sebelum ketukan berbunyi lagi, kali ini lebih memaksa.


Ketukan mereda, sebuah suara menjawab, "Biarkan aku masuk."

Suaranya rendah dan melengking, suara dewasa yang tidak kukenal. Aku mungkin masih berumur enam tahun, tapi aku juga sangat mengerti etika di kamar mandi. Terutama aturan bahwa tidak boleh ada lebih dari satu orang di kamar mandi, terutama jika tempatnya cuma agak lebar sedikit dari lemari.


Ketukan makin sering terdengar. Bahkan terasa seperti gelisah, pada jarak hanya beberapa kaki dari tempatku dan bagian luar. Suaranya berubah putus asa.

"Tolong, buka pintunya. Biarkan saya masuk."

Aku ketakutan saat itu. Pukulan dan teriakannya sangat keras. Dan tidak seorang pun datang memeriksa keaadaanku. Lama kelamaan, guruku menemukanku dan marah karena aku sudah meninggalkan kelas selama setengah jam. Ketika aku menolak membuka pintu, dia mencari kunci cadangan dari resepsionis, lantas membawaku ke kantor kepala sekolah dan memanggil orangtuaku. Aku tidak diperbolehkan masuk sekolah selama sampai akhir minggu. Aku tidak pernah menceritakan peristiwa itu pada siapa-siapa.

Beberapa minggu kemudian, peristiwa itu terjadi lagi. Aku merayakan ulang tahunku yang ke-7 dan keluargaku mengadakan pesta barbecue untuk menyenangkanku. Hari cerah. Matahari bersinar megah. Kami mengatur pernak-pernik pesta di tanah belakang rumah. Batu arang tidak mau menyala. Ayah memintaku untuk mengambil pematik api di gudang pada bagian depan taman.

Ruangannya sangat sempit. Badanku tidak cukup memasukinya, sehingga aku cuma membukanya dari luar, berjinjit untuk meraih benda diatas rak, lantas menutup pintu lagi.Saat aku berbalik, terdengar ketukan bertubi-tubi dari balik pintu.

"Buka. Aku harus lewat." Suara ini bukan suara yang aku dengar beberapa bulan sebelumnya. Lebih dalam, menggeram dan marah.

Aku tidak berkata apa-apa dan bergegas pergi. Aku samasekali tidak tahu apa yang sedang terjadi, tetapi itu benar-benar membuatku ketakutan. Ketika aku masih berjalan, terdengar dentaman terakhir seperti sesuatu menghantam kayu, dan sesuatu berkata, "Dasar anak sialan, aku rontokkan gigimu. Biarkan aku lewat."

Aku kembali ke tempat pesta dan menghabiskan sisa waktu disana dengan melirik lewat bahuku.

Seperti yang kamu duga. Aku mendengar banyak suara-suara seperti ini, sekitar tigapuluhan. Setiap bulan atau lebih aku selalu mendapat permohonan agar dapat melewati pintu. Sebagian besar terjadi begitu aku menutup pintu. Seakan-akan kejadian aneh ini seperti mengikutiku. Aku tidak pernah bercerita pada orang lain.  Tapi sejujurnya, aku menjadi terbiasa. Membuatku melompat dan beberapa suara menjadikanku tidak nyaman, tapi aku tahu, aku baik-baik saja selama aku tidak membuka pintu. Beberapa suara yang pernah kudengar, kuberi nama. Ada satu yang selalu muncul di pintu depan rumahku. Kami punya pintu berkaca buram dan aku melihat bayangan orang dengan ukuran rata-rata memakai semacam topi. Dia tidak pernah berbicara, tapi kadang-kadang memasukka amplop berisi kertas kosong ke dalam kotak surat. Aku menamaannya Pak Pos. Dia adalah salah satu yang meresahkan. Kalau aku berusaha berbicara padanya, dia akan melihat dengan pandangan tajam dan mulai mengetuk. Aku biasanya membiarkannya.

Dua puluh tahun berlalu dan aku berusaha hidup senormal mungkin. Aku punya banyak teman. Bahkan sering putus-nyambung dengan gadis yang baru aku temui tahun kemarin. Tidak buruk untuk pria yang bangun tengah malam untuk mendengar suara yang tidak bisa kamu dengar dari balik pintu. Ya, teman-temanku berpikir aku aneh dan esentrik. Mereka tidak mempermasalahkan. Mereka semua baik. Aku merindukan mereka.

Segala sesuatu bertambah aneh. Lebih aneh dari sebelumnya. Tiga minggu yang lalu, aku bangun, berkeringat, dan menangis, Namun demikian aku tidak tahu kenapa. Menurutku, mimpiku tampak normal saja ketika sejumlah besar bayangan tiba-tiba saling menimpa. Tepatnya, ketika aku membuka mata untuk kedua kalinya. Sesuatu datang dan mengetuk pintuk kamarku. Bukan ketukan biasa, tetapi bertubi-tubi.

"Siapa disana?"

"Tolongggg aku," jawabnya. Aku terkejut. Itu suara sadis yang aku dengar di gudang ketika aku berulang tahun ke-7. Tapi sekarang tampak tulus. Ada penderitaan di dalam nada suaranya, sepertinya ia sedang terluka. Aku benar-benar menarik selimutku untuk bangun, tapi ragu. Aku tidak pernah tergoda membuka pintu sebelumnya. Sebagai seorang anak, pikiran bahwa apa yang ada dibalik pintu pastilah setan adalah hal yang umum. Sejujurnya, aku mendatangi pintu dengan jarak amat dekat yang mungkin untuk membiarkan apa yang ada dibaliknya  masuk pagi itu, tetapi tidak jadi.

Lantas lagi. Lagi.....

Total ada sepuluh amplop coklat polos. Pak Pos menunggu beberapa menit, mengetuk kadang-kadang kemudian membiarkanku sendiri.

Setiap surat berisi sebuah kertas A4. Tapi seseorang menorehkan tinta hitam padanya. Menuliskannya dengan gaya cakar ayam dan membayanginya dengan air mata besar di tengahnya dan tepi kertasnya terlihat usang. Aku memasukkannya kembali ke dalam amplop dan mencoba memikirkannya.

 Pagi-pagi sekali. Pintu kamarku terguncang dengan keras. Itu bukan teriakan atau lolongan atau auman. Lebih mirip tangisan. Lusinan suara dan sesenggukkan yang tertahan.Suatu pukulan menghantam pintuku. Serpihan semen terjatuh dari tembok dan terbanting-banting ke karpet. Tidak ada kata-kata permohonan. Hanya sesenggukan.


Aku meloncat dari kursi.


Retakan sebesar rambut tercipta pada bingkai pintu di salah satu sudutnya.

Teleponku mulai berdering dan aku mendengar ketukan-ketukan tajam di kaca jendela di balik kelambu. Aku mencoba menjawab telepone. Namun hanya terdengar suara tangisan. Bukan sesenggukkan. Lebih mirip tangisan dalam ketakutan dan penderitaan yang dalam. Kututup teleponnya tapi masih saja berbunyi. Sehingga aku mengeluarkan batereinya.

Aku mendorong perabotan untuk menghalangi pintu dan jendela. Sudah tiga jam sejak serangan terakhir dimulai. Pukulan-pukulan belum reda. Begitu juga dengan tangisan. Aku yakin, pintuku tak akan bertahan lama.Hanya penghalang sementara dan dapat dihempaskan dalam dua menit. Aku menyadari bahwa aku benar-benar menghadapi kemungkinan kematian. Kemudian aku menulis sedikit catatan andai hal itu benar-benar terjadi.


Apa yang mereka inginkan?


Apakah mereka ingin melukaiku?


Mereka tampak tak takut bahkan berbahaya sebelumnya.


Apa yang membuat mereka melakukan hal ini?


Mungkin aku harus membuka pintu.


Mungkin aku membiarkan mereka masuk saja.

Terjadi keheningan.Aku rasa bahkan tangisan telah mereda. Untuk beberapa menit aku duduk disana. Kemudian berdiri dan bergegas ke pintu, berusaha lari dari keadaan yang menyesakkan ini. Mungkin aku harus pergi ke sebuah tempat jauh dari pintu dan dari ketukan sialan itu. Aku menyingkirkan penghalang pintu dan memutar pemegang pintu.


Berlutut. Aku mengitip melalui lubang pintu. Di seberang pintu kamarku, terhambar sesuatu yang bukan lorong seperti yang kuingat, tetapi ruangan lain, seperti perpustakaan atau sebuah kelas.Tak ada siapa-siapa kecuali seorang anak laki-laki, duduk, membaca dengan punggung menghadapku. Aku memukul pintu.

"Hei, bocah. Biarkan aku keluar."

Ia melirik melalui bahunya.

"Ya. Aku disini. Bisakah kamu membuka pintu."

"Tidak bisa. Aku lagi dihukum. Aku tidak boleh berbicara dengan siapapun. Pergi sana."

Ia berbalik dariku. Bingung dan jengkel, aku berdiri dan memukul pintu keras-keras. Terdengar suara keras. Aku merasa suaranya seperti sebuah pukulan pada kaca. Jendelaku.

Aku mendengarnya lagi. Tapi ini bukan terdengar seperti ketukan bertubi-tubi menginginkan masuk. Ini juga tidak tampak usaha seperti berusaha masuk.Apapun yang ada di seberang sana tahu kalau aku ada di dalam. Dia tahu aku ketakutan. Ia menginginkan aku ketakutan dengan cara sadis dan buas.

Aku berbalik ke arah pintu dan mulai menghantamnya bertubi-tubi.

"Hei. Biarkan aku masuk. Aku benar-benar memintamu membuka pintu."

*Story from creepypasta.wikia.com

The Knocking Rating: 4.5 Diposkan Oleh: Good Dreamer

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