The tapping

October 28, 2017
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Every night there is a tapping sound at my window
When I investigate, I find no soul
No quaking branch, nor breathing wind
Nothing but malevolent silence.
An eerie stillness speaking volumes over the once gentle tapping
This is unbearable, I will not be made a fool
I will find the colporate, chastise them till they drip my drool
Armed with a flashlight I shall surely make myself clear,
No more tapping will occur here!
The night is surely empty, just a desolate stream of artificial light
My stomach churns as I venture forth into the night.
The silence is broken with the crunch of dead Autumn leaves
Making it clear that it is no longer just me.
Who goes there I demand, regretting deeply my choice,
I am answered by a quivering echo of my voice.
The shuffling gets louder till I'm greeted by a cold sharp prick.
I try hard to run but I feel too dizzy and physically sick.
The last thing I hear comes from a house in the background:
“Do you hear it too, the tapping sound?”

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