Flash fiction: “Knock, knock”

There was that knock again.

Someone was in his house.

He ran up the stairs, gun in hand.

He looked through the three bedrooms, but there was none there.

He walked back out on the landing, where he could see the entire living room and the kitchen downstairs.

None was there.

Another knock.

”Who’s there” He shouted.

No response.

The knocks came from the second floor. The floor Jeremy was on.

He turned around and walked, slowly, into the bathroom. The lights were still on from when he showered earlier.

The shower curtain was drawn. Jeremy eased his way into the bathroom, careful not to make a sound, and pulled the shower curtain.

It fell onto the floor, and he jumped back. There was none there.

He let out a sigh and walked back out onto the landing.

He listened for another knock.

There was nothing. Whatever had caused the knocking was gone.

He grabbed a chair and sat down, looking over the railing so he could see everything.

He put the gun down on the desk and pulled out a cigarette.

He sat there smoking, and listening to any sound.

Nothing, his house was quiet once more.

He decided that he was being paranoid and put the chair back before walking down to the living room.

Another knock.

From the ground floor this time.

He reached for the gun, but he had left it on the desk upstairs.

He ran for the stairs but before he could reach them something grabbed his feet and pulled him to the floor.

He turned around and saw her. The woman he had seen in his dreams.

She was real.

He tried to reach something, anything which he could use to defend himself.

Nothing was within reach.

She laughed, a laugh that made his blood freeze, before plunging her hand into his chest.

The last thing he saw was her, with his heart in her bloody hands.

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