1. Knock knock
Two months ago, Violet moved into her new home. It was cheap and very comfy, exactly what she had been looking for. The neighborhood was quiet, the kind of place where nothing unusual ever seemed to happen—or so she thought. But one night, as she was drifting off to sleep, a soft, almost tentative knock echoed through the silence. It was so faint that she thought she might have imagined it. She got up, checked the door, and, finding no one there, shrugged it off as the house settling or perhaps a stray branch tapping against the window.
The next night, the knocking returned, just as soft but more insistent this time. Violet hesitated before getting out of bed, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up as she approached the door. Once again, she found nothing outside. The empty hallway stared back at her, offering no clues. By the third night, the knocking was louder, more urgent. Violet’s sleep was broken, and she felt a growing unease. When she opened the door this time, she felt a cold breeze brush past her, though the air outside was still. Again, there was no one there. This continued for several nights, the knocking growing louder and more forceful each time. Violet began to dread the nights, her nerves on edge, and her sleep interrupted by the relentless knocking. She tried ignoring it, but the sound would grow until it was impossible to sleep through. One night, as the knocking echoed through her apartment, she finally decided to wait by the door. Her heart pounded as she stood in the darkness, her ear pressed against the wood, listening to the unnerving rhythm of the knocks. Just as she was about to give up and return to bed, the knocking stopped. She felt a chill run down her spine as she reached for the doorknob, slowly turning it and pulling the door open just a crack. Standing in the hallway, illuminated by the faint glow of the streetlights outside, was a woman. Her long dark hair hung over her face, and she wore an old, tattered nightgown. But what struck Violet most was the woman’s eyes—empty, hollow, and locked onto Violet with an unsettling intensity. The woman didn’t speak. She didn’t move. She just stared. Violet’s breath caught in her throat as she tried to process what she was seeing. Her instinct screamed to shut the door, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the woman’s gaze. The cold from the hallway seeped into the apartment, wrapping around Violet like a shroud. Suddenly, the woman raised her hand, her fingers trembling as she reached out toward Violet. The gesture was slow, deliberate, as if she was trying to bridge the gap between them. Violet stumbled back, slamming the door shut with all her strength. She locked it, her hands shaking, and pressed her back against the door, trying to calm her racing heart. The knocking didn’t return that night, but Violet could still feel the woman’s gaze burning through the door, watching, waiting. The following nights were worse. The knocking would begin as soon as Violet turned off the lights, louder and more frantic with each passing moment. She could feel the woman’s presence, just outside her door, her silent stare boring into her even when she didn’t open the door. On the final night, the knocking was so loud that it shook the walls. Violet couldn’t take it anymore. She threw open the door, desperate to confront whatever haunted her. But the woman was gone. The hallway was empty, but the cold remained, a biting chill that seemed to have settled into the very bones of the house. Violet stepped out into the hall, her eyes darting around, searching for any sign of the ghostly figure. Then she felt it—a soft, cold breath against the back of her neck. Violet turned slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. The woman was standing right behind her, closer than ever before, her empty eyes staring into Violet’s soul. She didn’t move, didn’t speak. She just watched, her gaze filled with a sorrow that Violet could almost feel. Violet’s breath hitched, and before she could react, the woman’s icy hand touched her shoulder. In an instant, the world seemed to tilt, and Violet’s vision blurred. The last thing she saw before everything went dark was the woman’s face, inches from hers, those hollow eyes staring deep into her. When Violet awoke, she was lying on the floor of her apartment, the door wide open. The woman was gone, and the knocking had finally stopped. But the cold remained, and Violet knew that the woman’s silent, sorrowful stare would haunt her forever.
