This is a rewrite of a story I wrote for Halloween a few years ago. It starts out seeming like something scary might happen, but it turns out that the lonely elderly lady’s fears were unfounded, and the situation isn’t nearly as frightening as she had initially feared. This is a simple slice of life story with an unexpected and sweet plot twist.

The 12 O’Clock Knock

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

I was just resting my eyes. I really didn’t intend to sleep for as long as I did.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

The sound of the clock’s ring echoed against the wood-paneled walls. Twelve times it banged. I jolted awake, still sitting upright in the old recliner in my living room, as the clock on the wall struck twelve.

I looked around my living room, half awake, half still in a dreamy haze, watching shadows dance across the old, dark, wood-paneled walls. A sudden creaking sound from somewhere in the vicinity of my front porch startled me.

Creak.

Creak.

Creak.

Then silence. Perhaps it was just my imagination.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

The sudden violent sound of someone – or something – knocking at my front door propelled me into a state of complete wakefulness. There was no imagining that.

My legs aren’t as strong as they used to be, and I struggled to get my tired old body up out of the old ragged chair. Once I managed to hobble my way, slowly, slowly, slowly, to the front window. But no one was there. Perhaps it was just my feeble old imagination playing tricks on me after all. My mind isn’t as sharp as it used to be. Or perhaps it was nothing more than the wind playing tricks on my old mind.

I slowly returned to my chair and sat down once more. Suddenly, another sound came echoing from the front door.

Hehehehe.

Hehehehe.

Hehehehe.

The unmistakable sound of a child laughing crept through my living room, the light sound filling my home with its joyous melody… but I did not feel joyful. Not at all. My children have long since grown and moved on from my home, and my grandchildren and great grandchildren haven’t visited in years. It is the same story for my neighbors. This neighborhood has aged. There haven’t been any children in this neighborhood for years.

Hehehehe.

Hehehehe.

Hehehehe.

There is was again. A chill ran up my spine as I struggled to sit up in the chair. I couldn’t be imagining that sound, could I?

“Hello,” I yelled out, my voice raspy from age and years of minimal use. “Is there someone there?” There was no response from the door. The faint sound of the childlike laughter quieted, then stopped altogether. Perhaps it was only my imagination playing tricks on me again. I had to remind myself, once more, that I’m not as young as I once was. I reminded myself that there haven’t been children anywhere near my home in years. I can’t remember the last time this aging neighborhood was filled with innocent laughter. It must have been years. Decades, even.

I settled back down into my worn-out old chair. Suddenly, another knock echoed from the front door.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

“Is there somebody out there?” I yelled out again. This time I didn’t bother rising from the chair. My knees are weak, and I knew now that senility must be catching up with me. The knocking ceased, and still, there was still no response. The sinister shadows from the gnarled trees in the yard just outside my window danced across the hardwood floor of my living room as I watched the space in front of my door, anticipating something, though I didn’t know what. I told myself that it must have only been the wind again. What else could it have been?

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

I looked around my lonely living room. The wall clock’s ticking seemed even louder than before, and my head felt like it was spinning. Around and around and around.

Creak.

Creak.

Creak.

The sound of ever-so-light footsteps crept outside my window, once more. It sounded as though someone was walking around on my front porch. Someone had to be out there. But it didn’t make sense. Who would be there? What did they want. I hadn’t had a visitor in so long. So long.

Several minutes passed. It kept quiet. Perhaps if whoever, or whatever, was out there would leave if they didn’t know I was here.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Suddenly, there was another knock on the door. This time the sound of the knock was much louder than before. I gathered up all of the courage I could muster and resolved to investigate the sound again. If someone – or something – meant me harm, well, I’ve had a good run. I knew I was old and far past my prime. Perhaps it was time to finally meet my maker.

“I know someone is out there,” I said as I stood up again. Every bone in my body creaked. Creaked. Creaked. I slowly hobbled to my foyer, slowly, slowly, slowly creeping my way through the shadows that overtook my living room and entrance way. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes tightly as I opened the front door.

Two small girls stood in my doorway, smiling up at me. They both wore uniforms of bright green skirts and matching bright green vests. Their vests were covered in sewn-on patches, all of different patterns and designs. Each girl held three boxes of cookies in their hands. On the sidewalk behind them stood a wagon filled with even more colorful boxes of cookies in different flavors and varieties.

“Could we possibly interest you in some cookies?” One of the small girls asked cheerfully as a gentle breeze softly ruffled her long blonde curls. The other little girl stood patiently next to her partner, proudly displaying her three boxes of cookies in different varieties, her shoulder-length brown hair fastened in pigtails on either side of her cherubic face.

“Sure, I suppose I’ll take a box of Thin Mints,” I replied as I reached into my housecoat’s pocket to retrieve my pocketbook. With my other hand I shielded my eyes from the midday sun. “And one box of the shortbread,” I added and dug out a few crisp bills from my pocketbook. I thanked the two young Girl Scouts before bidding them goodbye. They hopped off my front porch as I slowly turned back toward my dark living room and closed the door behind.