Something Knocks on my Door Every Night at 12:16am

By Chef A10A10A10

//Source.

It first happened last week, Thursday, March the 22nd. It was just after midnight and I was lying awake in bed when I first heard it.

knock knock knock

My first reaction was to look at my phone to see if someone tried calling or texting me. But there were no messages. I live alone in a quiet suburban neighborhood. I couldn’t think of any good reason why someone would be knocking at that time and I decided to ignore it.

But then it happened again the next night at around the same time. I went downstairs this time, took a deep breath, and looked through the peephole.

Nothing was there.

I was getting a little weirded out at this point and decided again not to open the door. But if it happened again tomorrow, I’d be more willing to investigate.

And it did happen again the next night. This time I made note of the specific time. 12:16 am. I was at the door in less than 10 seconds and promptly opened it. It was dark out there and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. Was something moving in the shadows near the bushes?

No.

There was nobody there. Nothing. I looked down the street in both directions but saw no movement. It was remarkably quiet out there but I didn’t hear any footsteps. I was confused. Who was knocking on my door every night? And for the first time, I didn’t think who, but what.

I thought back then to the day when the knocking first began and wondered if was related. March 22nd. I was at a funeral that day and I think I need to write a little about it here.

It was for my friend Pete. My best friend growing up. From about 8-15 we were inseparable. We started to lose touch 15-20. The last time I’d heard from him at all was 12 years ago when we were both 22. The strangest thing about his funeral was this… nobody else was there. Just me and a Priest. He was reading an incoherent bible verse when I interrupted him and asked him where everybody else was. He paused for a moment, looked at me, then went back to reading. It felt uncomfortable. I decided to leave.

So is that significant? Did I bring some spirit back with me from the funeral home? Or was I just losing my mind?

I decided I’d try and be quicker the next night. I’d wait near the door and have it opened in seconds. I wouldn’t allow any time for whatever it was to get away. But even this plan failed. It must have been a mere seconds after the knocking stopped before I opened the door. What would stand before me? Was it a neighborhood kid playing a prank? A mischievous spirit? A warning to me from the supernatural? All three options seemed equally unlikely.

But again, it was just empty space. Silence.

I had one more plan for the next night. I slipped outside at midnight and hid behind a neighbor’s car across the street. I had a very clear view of my front door and I’d be able to see whatever is knocking. I remember ducking behind the rear bumper of his car thinking what would my neighbors think if they see me? I looked at my phone. 12:15. It would happen any second now. I looked up and down the street for movement. I couldn’t see anybody. I held my phone in front of me. I watched it turn to 12:16, and still nothing was there. I was actually slightly disappointed for a fraction of a second…. But then I heard it.

knock knock knock

But I’m 100% certain as I write this… nobody was there. I was looking right at my door. But what I did see, for just a moment (and I can’t be certain) was saw a shadowy figure move away from my house. Not human. Not even something real or tangible. It was as though a shadow was moving down the sidewalk. But even I acknowledge… maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me. I have no idea.

I have tried some other things the past few nights. I stood by my front door one night and recorded the knocks, and then played the recording to my coworkers the next day. I started thinking the knocking was just in my head. But they could hear it. They were confused as to why I was making them listen to it… but they could most certainly hear it.

And then two nights ago I decided to beat the knocking to the punch. I stood with my phone in front of me and opened the door at precisely 12:16, just to see what would happen.

But again, there was nothing there. In fact, the knocking didn’t even happen this time. So if I stood with the door open at 12:16, the knocking would be prevented. What could that mean? And here’s the stranger thing… the knocking did wake me up that morning at 7:07 am. Why 7:07 am this time? Why wouldn’t the knocking happen if I stood with the door open? I have no idea. I’m lost. I’m really really lost.

I’m left very confused because I can’t help but think that maybe there’s some sort of secret code I’m supposed to work out. There’s the date, March 22nd. But also, what about the number of knocks on the door? It’s always three. Does that mean anything? The times the knocking occurs is always 12:16 and 7:07. Do those times represent something?

If anyone thinks of anything, please comment below. I’ll be reading and am open to advice. Maybe I can even try some of your ideas out tonight.

At 12:16 am.


It’s been two nights since I last posted.

On the first of those nights, I simply ignored the knocking again. I was still reading through the comments on my nosleep submission and trying to figure out what to do next.

Some Redditors suggested that, given that the knocking didn’t happen when the door was opened, that I just permanently leave my front door open. But that just seems ridiculous as far as I’m concerned. This is the front door to my house. Anybody could just walk in, let alone rats, raccoons, insects, etc. No, that wasn’t a strong long-term solution.

Others suggested ideas like setting up infrared cameras, leaving a fresh coat of paint on the door to see if prints are left, and even contacting a priest. I thought about maybe eventually resorting to those options.

But a post by u/houseofpwncakes set me on a different path. He suggested I look at Bible passages that match up to the time the knocking occurred. 12:16 and 7:07. Specifically, revelations 12:16 from the bible was recommended. While I was unable to find relevance in that passage, it got me looking into other biblical passages.

Acts 12:16 “But Peter kept on knocking, and when they opened the door and saw him, they were astonished.”

I mean, that couldn’t possibly just be a coincidence, could it? I had been at my friend Pete’s funeral the first day the knocking began. And the passage directly references the knocking.

The second time the knocking occurred was 7:07. After a little digging, I was able to find this passage.

Matthew 7:7 “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.”

The part I focused on was “knock, and it will be opened to you.” Does that mean I should knock back (as some Redditors suggested) and something will happen? If I put it all together… it appears that it really is the spirit of my former friend Pete who was knocking on the door. If I knock back and then open the door, what I see will be “astonishing.”

I decided to give it a try last night.

I was standing by my door at 12:15, waiting…

I was looking at the clock when it clicked over to 12:16, and then I heard it same as usual.

knock knock knock

I raised my hand and knocked back immediately. Three times.

Then I opened the door.

And I was astonished.

What stood before me I could barely see. Light refracted off of it in a strange manner and made it difficult to focus on. It was mostly a shadow and somewhat transparent. It looked both somewhat familiar while at the same time alien from this world. It had a humanoid form but looked tormented, abominable, and odious.

In my state of repulsion and fear, it took me a moment to recognize that somewhere deep down inside this monstrosity was what remained of my friend Pete. It was him. No question.

He didn’t speak to me. Instead, we could sort of see each other’s thoughts. That’s the best way I could explain it.

And I saw all the evil that Pete had done. The reason that nobody other than myself showed up to his funeral. He had been a monster in his adult life. The worst that humanity had to offer. Rape, violence, torture, murder. I saw it all. Most of it he had never even been caught for. But it was a murder that eventually got him put in jail. He was killed there, by another inmate. I saw myself at his funeral, alone, as the Priest read aloud Genesis 3:22, describing when mankind first became aware of the difference between good and evil.

And what happened next was an even worse experience. Both Pete and I were looking at the things that I had done wrong in life. I’m not going to own up to them here. They may pale in comparison to what Pete had done… but I saw how extreme my flaws had become. How badly I’d been corrupted.

The shadowy figure of what used to be my friend Pete held up a hand to wave. I saw the anguish and agony in his eyes… and then he vanished into thin air.

I stood looking into the dark empty yard of my house for at least a minute before quietly shutting the door.

So what did all of this mean? Was it a warning? If I don’t clean up my ways, I’ll also one day become the torturous form that stood before me? How do I start? Should I yell from my window asking a kid to buy the biggest goose in town and deliver it to the Cratchit family?

I’ve been thinking back to my childhood with Pete. Were there any signs of what he’d become? Why hadn’t I ever heard about his crimes? How did I even hear about his funeral? I don’t use any social media. I didn’t receive a letter or a phone call. I just somehow showed up there.

And why did he choose to come and warn me? Because we were friends? Because I was the only person to show up to his funeral?

I wasn’t sure. There wouldn’t be answers. And then I figured out that there was only one thing I could do.

Try and be better.

I did receive another knock yesterday. And I’m certain it will be the last time he ever knocks on my door. One final message. It occurred at 5:17.

It took a bit of digging, but it translates to 17:17 on the 24-hour clock.

I looked at the passage I’m certain he was showing me and smiled. And I think I can make sense of it. I think it all makes sense now.

Proverbs 17:17: A friend is always loyal, and a brother is born to help in time of need.

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Someone Knocks on my Door Every Night

By Chef BloomMilk

//Source.

Around last Wednesday on the 20th my roommates and I finished moving into our new apartment. The place is pretty nice, nothing too fancy, but a good size for the three of us. Our apartment has a nice open kitchen and family room, and connecting to it is a narrow hallway with all of our bedrooms. Every night since we moved in has been really odd though. Continue reading “Someone Knocks on my Door Every Night”

Every Second Counts

By Chef MethadoneDonor

//Source.

I am twenty years old as of writing this. I don’t want these words to be destroyed. That is why I am posting these words now. I want someone to see these words in case I don’t survive the next three weeks. Every second counts.

He has lived in the house since before I was born. He has tormented me my entire life. Sometimes he pretends that he cares about me. When I was a child, I used to believe him sometimes.

I sleep in a room on the second floor of the house. I would normally call this room my bedroom, but I cannot anymore because he sold my bed last year. I sleep on the floor now because he wanted one hundred dollars.

I cannot call the police because there are only two phones. One is in the living room, and the other is in his room. If I pick up the handset of one phone, a small light lights up on the other phone. If I call anyone on the living room phone, he will see the light and pick up the handset on his phone. I cannot call anyone because he sees the light every time and he listens to every word. By the time the police came, it would be too late.

I cannot rely on my neighbors for help. They all hate me because I live in the same house as him. They probably don’t know that I hate him too. More than one of the neighbors has called the police on him before, but nothing ever happens. The police don’t see any evidence of anything and then they leave.

I am acutely aware that the distance from my window to the ground is sixteen feet straight down. I constantly think about jumping, but not to kill myself. I would jump in order to escape. I would jump in order to survive. I think I could survive a sixteen foot drop mostly intact. If I hang off of the edge of the window and drop down, it’s only a ten foot drop. I’m pretty sure that I would survive a ten foot drop without injury if I landed right. If I landed on the hood of my car, it might be better than hitting the concrete driveway. I wonder how many seconds it would take to remove the car cover and start the engine. Would it even start after sitting in the driveway all this time. If it did start up, how many seconds would it take to do so? Every second counts.

Sometimes when my mom leaves the house to go to work or buy groceries, she will say cryptic things. “If I don’t come back, take care of your brothers for me.” “I hope I see you again.” “I’ll be back, I hope.”

About half a year ago, I began leaving my window unlocked at all times. I worry that if my window were locked, I wouldn’t be able to get out in time if anything happened. I would have to take time to unlock the window before I could even open it. If my window is already unlocked, that will buy me at least a second or two of extra time. Every second counts.

He doesn’t want me to go to college. He has prevented me from going to college for two years now. I have been trapped in this house for two years since graduating high school. I have been able to find work sometimes, but most of the money is taken and goes directly to him. Two years of my life have been stolen from me so far. Two years is a really long time when you measure your life in seconds. Every second counts.

He had a nightmare a while back. He walked into my older brother’s room where we were both watching television. He just stared at us for almost a whole minute in complete silence. Then he walked back down the hallway and stopped at door to his room. He just stood there as stiff as a board, staring into his room but not entering it. I asked him why he was staring at me and my brother. He didn’t answer. I asked him if there was something in the room that he was looking at. Without looking at me, he whispered some words which terrified me and continue to scare me even to this day. I was afraid that I was going to die that night. Eventually he entered his room and closed the door. I went back to my own room and picked up the spiked bat that I keep next to my window. I got it at the renaissance festival last year. I locked my door and I didn’t go to sleep that night. The spiked bat was hard to hold onto because my hands were shaking and my palms were sweating.

It was this night, three months ago, when I began locking my door at all times. Having my door locked buys me some more time. I think that I could probably make it out of the window before my door was broken in. A locked door adds precious few extra seconds, but a couple extra seconds is better than none. Every second counts.

The next day, my mom asked me where the rope ladder was. I told her that it was probably in the hall closet. She told me that I should keep it in my room. “If something happens, I would want you to make it out at least.” In this exact moment, something became perfectly clear to me. I have two brothers who sleep in adjacent second-story rooms. There is only one rope ladder, and my mother wants me to have it. She wants the only rope ladder to be in my room where only I have access to it, instead of in the hall closet where everyone has access to it. My mother had asked herself which of her three children was the most likely to survive if something happened, and the answer was me.

My next door neighbor’s house was broken into and robbed last week. It happened in the middle of the day. I even heard the glass break, but my window doesn’t face their house, so I didn’t see anything. I didn’t call the police. It’s not that unusual to hear glass break sometimes. I continue to keep my window unlocked at all times. I don’t fear anything that could come through my window from the outside. What I fear lives inside of the house.

The other day I opened my window, and I cut loose a corner of the window screen. Then I cut small slits along all of the edges of the screen. This was to make it easier to rip the screen out if I needed to escape through this window. I wouldn’t want to waste precious seconds struggling with a screen if something were to happen. Every second counts.

I have spent the last couple of months gathering documents. I have been frantically searching my house for W-2s, 1040s, proof of SNAP, etc. I need all of these things if I want to escape. He has tried very hard to shred all important documents and then burn them in the backyard, but some survived. He does this because he doesn’t want anyone to escape. What documents I do find, I must hide from him. If he found out that I had all of these documents, I don’t know what he would do. At the same time, I know exactly what he would do.

I went to the community college last week, and I brought all of my top secret documents. The college person told me that I have all of the documents that I need except for one. This special document is called an IRS tax return transcript. In order to obtain it, I must file taxes secretly without his knowledge. Then it will take three weeks to become available, and then up to ten days to arrive in the mail. That is a very long time for someone who measures their life in seconds. Every second counts.

Using the documents I had gathered, I was able to file a tax return without anyone knowing. Now I must wait. There are fifteen days left until I can request the transcript, and then I might have to wait ten more days. When it arrives, I must get to the mailbox before he does. If he reaches the mailbox first, he will open the envelope and read the words therein. If that happens, the IRS tax return transcript will be shredded and burned. After that, it will be too late and I will have to wait an another year to try to escape again. It will be the third year that I will spend trapped in the house with him. I cannot fail again. That is why I must reach the mailbox first. Then I must go the college and submit all of the documents. Once I am enrolled, I will be able to leave. I will have to leave secretly, without anyone knowing. When he finds out that I have escaped, there will be nothing that he can do to me. I will be already be gone. My two siblings and my mother will still be there, however. He might take it out on them. I don’t think that they will ever escape. I have survived for my entire life, but escape is so close I can almost taste it. I have to survive for three more weeks. If I survive for three weeks, I have to reach the mailbox first. Every second counts.