Something Keeps Trying to Get Invited into My House

Don’t ever knock on my front door.

 

Don’t even try it.

 

If you’re a salesman, keep stepping. If you’re a Girl Scout, move on to the next house. We don’t care if you see us through the window or hear us behind the door. We will never open it. We don’t know who we can trust anymore. All we know is that whatever is outside can’t enter unless we let it.

 

It all started about a week ago, when I was home alone. My wife and two boys were spending the week at her mother’s place in Phoenix while I begrudgingly stayed behind so my boss wouldn’t think of my name when our company’s downsizing inevitably reached our branch.

 

In my heart, I longed to be soaking up the sun with my family, but reality found me sacrificing my vacation days in hopes of keeping my job. 5 o clock came and put an end to Monday, and I didn’t linger around the office for a second. On my way home I stopped by my favorite Chinese takeout. If I couldn’t enjoy the company of my family, I could at least enjoy the company of General Tso. Pulling my car into the garage, I quickly changed into sweatpants and a plain T shirt, slipped on my slippers, and settled into my favorite La-Z-Boy recliner. As I flipped on the TV, and opened my takeout, I sighed away the days stress and prepared to relax.

 

It had barely been 15 minutes before my peace was interrupted by the loud sound of the doorbell. I rolled my eyes, and muttered to myself

 

“Great, just great.”

 

When I opened the door, I was met by one of the strangest sights I had ever seen. Before me on the threshold of my home, was a salesman. Not a salesman you might see wandering around modern neighborhoods, dressed in bright polos, khaki shorts, trying to sell you solar panels or a new roof. No, the salesmen before me looked like he had stepped out of the 1960s. He wore black perfectly polished formal dress shoes, a light gray three-piece tweed suit, and a matching gray fedora. The man himself was the picture perfect 1960s man. He was tall and thin, his brown hair was skillfully cut and styled, his face cleanly shaved, and his teeth were perfectly straight and dazzlingly white. In one hand he held a brown leather briefcase, and at his side was very old hoover vacuum.

 

As our eyes met, he smiled, removed his fedora and in the quick, yet soothing voice of an old-fashion baseball announcer he said

 

“Good evening, sir, always a pleasure to see a fellow citizen, I’m here on behalf of the Hoover company. If I could, I’d like to come inside at take a moment to demonstrate to you the marvels of the modern home vacuum.”

 

I couldn’t help but chuckle a little

 

“Wow” I said, “that’s some getup, I feel sorry for you having to wear that in this heat, is Hoover celebrating an anniversary or something?”

 

The salesmen didn’t drop the act

 

“No Sir, nothing special, just the regular Hoover treatment, may I come in?”

 

I squinted my eyes slightly

 

“Um, no”

 

At this his smile dropped, he stared blanky for a moment before saying

 

“You won’t let me in?”

 

“No” I said again

 

“Why not?” he asked in a quieter voice

 

“Look man, this is my house and I don’t need a reason to not let you in”

 

He stared blankly at me again before whispering

 

“Please?”

 

A could feel my temper getting the best of me

 

“No! now get lost!”

 

With that I slammed the door in his face and backed up into the entryway. But through the fogged glass of the front door, I could still see his silhouette just standing there on the porch. I held my breath and stared, hoping he would leave. After about three minutes he hadn’t moved, and I lost my temper. I swung the door open and yelled into his wide smile.

 

“Get off my porch right now, or I’m call the cops!”

 

He stared, his smile only seemed to widen, after half a minute he walked backwards off the porch. His eyes never left mine, nor did his smile lower until he reached the sidewalk. At that point he turned and walked off. I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable, so I locked the front door as I returned to the recliner. I finished my dinner, enjoyed a few hours of TV shows, and headed off to bed.

 

At 1 AM the silence of the house was shattered by the doorbell. I don’t know how long it had been ringing before it woke me. Barely awake I stumbled out of bed and into the hallway, praying that this was a dream. As I approached the front door a bright light sent a long shadow of a man into my house. Opening the door, the light was blinding, and it took a moment for my sleepy eyes to adjust. As they did, the figure before me spoke in a loud, authoritative voice

 

“Sir, I’m with the police, we received a complaint from this address earlier today. May I come in and discuss the details?”

 

My mind was barely keeping up, and in confusion I replied

 

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

 

“Just following up on the call we received, may I come in and take your statement?”

 

My confused mind began to catch up

 

“I never called the police today; I know for a fact that no one else here did either.”

 

The figure was silent for a moment before saying

 

“All the same sir, if I could come in, we could clear this all up.”

 

It was at this point that I noticed the man’s uniform. It was old. The type of uniform worn back in the 80s. in fact the man’s entire appearance was like something out of a police TV show, the worn dark aviator sunglasses and his face was home to a thick handlebar mustache.

 

I looked at him and asked

 

“What’s your badge number?”

 

He didn’t reply

 

“Do you have a warrant?”

 

“No” came the simple answer

 

“Then you can’t come in”

 

“If I had one, would you let me in?”

 

I didn’t answer, just slammed and locked the door.

 

The man banged his fist on the door for about fifteen minutes before giving up and leaving. And after calming down for about an hour I finally fell back asleep.

 

When morning came, I found it easy to convince myself that last night’s interaction was nothing but an odd dream. I blamed it on the cheap Chinese food, but after a short shower and simple breakfast I soon forgot about the event.

 

Work was nothing special, just the daily grind of an underpaid accountant for a shrinking company. I missed my family and wished more than anything that I had gone with them. 5 o clock came and I didn’t linger, soon I was trapped in the prison of rush hour. It was 6:30 by the time I pulled into my quiet neighborhood. And as I reached my house, I noticed a figure standing on the front porch. It was a man, he was dressed in a light gray jumpsuit, similar to the ones a janitor or plumber might wear in a movie. He stood facing the door, one hand was raised and limply yet constantly knocked on the door.

 

“No way,” I said in disbelief, as I passed the front of the house to the garage on the side of the house. As I passed by the man noticed, and his head slowly turned to me and followed me as I disappeared around the corner. The last thing I saw before the car went behind the house was the man leaving the porch and walking over towards the garage.

 

“Not again” I muttered aloud.

 

By the time I parked and exited the car he was already there, standing just outside the open garage door, as if an invisible wall stopped him from coming any closer.

 

“Hello!” he said in a cheerful voice “we received a call earlier about a busted pipe, and no one has answered the door, may I come in and take a look?”

 

I stared at him as he spoke, and not once did I see him blink. A wide smile crossed his face as he finished, as if it was his default expression.

 

“No, no one called you, no one has even been here all day. So get out of here!” I said, somewhat annoyed

 

The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, and through the gritted teeth of his smile he said

 

“So you’re here alone?”

 

I swallowed and replied harshly “that’s none of your business, now leave”

 

At that as if a switch was flipped, he returned to the expression and movements of a charismatic tradesman.

 

“Really, sir I must insist, just let me come in and take a look, dealing with a flooded basement isn’t a relaxing way to spend the evening.”

 

“No, I must insist that you leave right now. And don’t ever come back!”

 

His unblinking eyes narrowed at that, the unreal smile returned as he backed away, as he reached the end of my driveway, I heard him quietly say

 

“See you later.”

 

With a loud sigh I closed the garage door and headed upstairs to change out of my work clothes and shower.

 

I had hoped to grill that night for dinner, I had set out some steaks to defrost when I left for work that morning, but shortly after I got out of the shower it began to rain. Not wanting to give up on my dreams of a good steak, I decided to just leave the grill in the garage, pull out one of the cars and leave the garage open to let the smoke out. The smell of the cooking meat mixed with the cool earthy smell of the rain calmed my nerves and momentarily made me forget about both work and the strange solicitors.

 

Just as the steaks finished cooking, the storm outside became noticeably stronger. I soon noticed a figure running in the heavy rain. It took me a second to realize that they were running right towards my garage. It appeared to be a young girl, no older than 12 years old, she ran as fast as she could, but when she reached the threshold of the garage she stopped instantly. I glared cautiously at her, even in the rain it was obvious that she was crying. For a moment I let my guard down. I had had many strange visitors over the last few days, but this was just a little girl who needed help.

 

I subconsciously moved closer to the entry of the garage

 

“Hey, are you ok? Do you need help?” I asked as my fatherly instincts overtook me

 

Through sobs and snuffles she replied weakly

 

“they’re chasing me, they want to hurt me, please help me.”

 

I took another step closer

 

“who’s chasing you? How can I help?”

 

At that question a thin grin broke across the girl’s face, and she said

 

“Can I come inside? I don’t think they will find me if I’m in there”

 

At that something in the back of my mind broke through my fatherly concern. Something wasn’t right. I stared intently at the little girl’s face, her unblinking eyes gazed back. A chill ran down my back as I realized that I recognized this girl. Everyone in this area knew who she was. This was the Johnson girl. Last summer she was snatched while riding her bike to a friend’s house. The whole community searched for weeks, her devastated parents regularly pleaded with her kidnapper on the local news. For months there was no sign of her. But at the end of September her body was found, floating face down in a nearby reservoir.

 

The thing in front of me wore the same clothes the Johnson girl was wearing when her body was found; a white long sleeve shirt, and dark blue jeans with mud stains around the knees. The smile on its face widens as we stared into each other’s eyes. The fingers of its left hand twitched violently.

 

My throat was dry as I squeaked out one question

 

“What are you?”

 

At this the thing violently titled its head to the side before cheerfully replying through clenched teeth

 

“I’m a little girl!”

 

Instantly her face dropped the smile, as the façade of a distressed crying girl returned.

 

“And I really need to hide in your house, please mister, they’ll get me.”

 

Cold sweat ran down my forehead, as I slowly shook my head no.

 

“Go away” I stuttered

 

At this a low growl escaped the little girl’s lips, as malice filled her eyes. For one terrible second, neither of us moved. Then in a flash she lurched towards me but as she tried to break the plane of the doorway, she froze as if she hit an unseen wall. She screamed

 

“Let me in!” over and over again, she swung her fists forward as if banging on an invisible door.

 

I didn’t even bother to take the steak off the grill as I turned, hit the garage door button, and ran into the house.

 

That night was awful. Whatever was outside my house didn’t leave instead it spent the night, screaming and banging on every door and window of my house. The scream was terrible; it was angry and primal. With every bang I feared the windows would shatter or the doors would give out, but they didn’t. They creaked and shifted, but they held. I couldn’t sleep; the thing wouldn’t let me. Even on the second floor I heard violent bangs and angry screams at my bedroom window. Every now and then I’d see its shadow under the lights of a passing car. Sometimes it was the shadow of a little girl, and sometimes it was the shadow of a fedora wearing salesman or a police officer. But no matter the shadow, the screams remained the same raspy inhuman screams that I first heard in the garage.

 

I spent the night huddled in the upstairs bathroom, as its violent fit shook the foundation of the house.

 

Morning came. And exactly thirty minutes after sunrise, the banging and screaming stopped. After a night of noise, the house seemed unnaturally quiet. Slowly I left the bathroom and cautiously peered out of the bedroom window. Outside I saw nothing unusual, it seemed to be a ordinary day in my ordinary neighborhood. Making my way downstairs, I found myself checking every window and every door. But I saw nothing, not so much as a scratch on the glass or a damaged plant in the yard. Nothing that pointed to the noise from the night before.

I felt like I was losing my mind, but I didn’t want to leave the house. I frantically called my boss, claiming I was sick, I told him I probably won’t be in for a few days. Sarcastically he replied

 

“Just know I’ll remember this in a few months.”

 

I didn’t care, being laid off was the least of my concerns. The next few days were a nightmare. Every evening around 7 PM a figure would stand on the porch and knock on the door

 

“Hello?”

 

“Anyone in there?”

 

“May I come in?”

 

“Please?”

 

Sometimes it asked in the voice of a little girls, sometimes it pretended to be the police, or it would speak in the smooth voice of a salesman. It had some new voices too

 

“May I come in?” asked an elderly woman

 

“Come on man, let me in.” said a teenage boy

 

Sometimes it tried accents, but it always got them wrong. One time it started in a Russian accent and finished in a heavy Hispanic accent. Its British accent was strangely mixed with a deep southern accent. But it kept trying.

 

With every pasting hour it grew more angry and more violent. The calm tone slowly grew angry and eventually would scream, the knocking would turn to banging, but every morning thirty minutes after sunrise it would all stop. I hadn’t slept in days, and I was terrified to go outside. Dread was growing in my mind because I knew soon, I had to go out.

 

My wife and sons were flying home. My boys started high school baseball practice this coming week and they needed to get back in time to be ready. And I was supposed to pick them up from the airport. I knew I couldn’t ask my wife to get an uber, I would never be able to trust that they were real unless I saw them exiting the plane myself. So, with shaking hands I used the button to open the garage. I stood and watched for a few moments, but no one walked by. After building up some courage I hopped in my car, closed the garage and headed off towards the airport.

 

It was so good to see my wife and boys, after several sleepless nights and days of isolation, just their presence was a breath of fresh air. I pulled my wife in for a hug, as we separated, she looked me over,

 

“Dear you look terrible” she said full of concern.

 

“I’ll explain later” I said with a weak smile

 

“it’s just really good to see you”

 

She smiled and quickly kissed me on the cheek

 

“We missed you” she said

 

On the car ride home, I tried to explain the situation to them. I told them that for the last couple of days strange people have been trying to get into our house. I’m sure I sounded crazy as I tried to tell them about vacuum salesmen from the 60s or little dead girls. When I told them about the banging and screaming in the night and suggested that maybe we spend a few nights in a hotel, my wife looked over to me and gently laid her hand on my arm before saying

 

“Are you feeling ok honey?”

 

My youngest son jokingly said

 

“Have you been smoking weed dad?”

 

My wife quickly interjected “I’m sure you’re just stressed and haven’t been sleeping well, I’ll be sure to rub you’re shoulders tonight.”

 

I didn’t know what to say so I just nodded. After all they would see what I was talking about at 7. The afternoon moved by slowly, as my family unpacked their things, I found myself packing a bag, I wanted to be ready to leave in the morning after they experienced what I have. 7 PM came but to my surprise no strange visitors came with it. I sat near the front door looking at my clock but nothing, no knocking, no voices from the other side of the door. It was surprisingly normal. At 8:30 I let out a cautious sigh of relief, maybe it was gone, maybe the events of this week were just some sort of elaborate prank by the neighbors.

 

I paced around the house till 9:45, when my wife asked if I was coming to bed. As promised my wife rubbed my shoulders. Before long I couldn’t keep my weary eyes open any longer, and I drifted off to sleep. In the morning I felt refreshed, I hadn’t slept in days, and that night I slept all the way through with no interruptions. I smiled and stretched, thinking to myself “I’m so glad that’s over”

 

I made my way to the kitchen where I made myself a cup of coffee and some toast which I enjoyed while scrolling on Facebook. A few minutes later my oldest son came down the stairs and into the kitchen, he looked at me with a big grin on his face, I nodded and said

 

“morning”

 

He went to the cupboard to grab a bowl for cereal, as he did with his back towards me, he said

 

“Hey Dad, why did you need me to let you in last night?”