By Kenzie Edgar
Mary woke to a soft tapping, like fingertips drumming on glass. She muttered to the cat to stop. Then she remembered she didn’t own a cat.
The tapping grew sharper. Her window was pitch-black, as if the night itself pressed against it.
Then came a whisper, thin as a thread: “Let me in. I’ve been waiting.”
Mary froze. The voice sounded exactly like hers.
The tapping stopped. Silence swelled. Slowly, the darkness at the window smiled, her smile but too wide, too wrong.
Stunned, Mary realised the truth: whatever was outside wasn’t trying to enter.
It wanted her to come out.
Chilling. The last line hits home.
Thank you for your comment. I usually write short stories with a last line kicker.
Eerily haunting but so well done! Congrats!
Actually it is voluminous as it is psychological.
Thank you for your comment. Spooky stories in few words are always a challenge.