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The man she buried is back and knocking.Melanie jumps out of bed, frozen and in a state of shock. The knock is distinctive, unmistakable -- That's her John. The John she had buried. She rubs her eyes and throws on her slippers, making her way out of her bedroom and turning on the light, so she can see.She tip toes down the stairs and grabs the home phone and a bat placed at the end of stairwell, calling her oldest child on the phone."Hello?" Frankie asks, a sleepiness to his voice.She had woken up her son who'd been living a few states away, in California, which is in a different time zone."Frankie?" She whispers, "Your dad is at the door.""Mom....go to bed." He sounds annoyed."You don't understand..." She starts but is cut off by the phone hanging up.Exasperated, she sets the phone down on the table and quietly goes to peak out the window. From this angle you can't see the front door. She peers at the dark road in front of her house. She sees no cars, no car in her driveway except her own, nothing.Thump...scrape...thump...scrape.There it is again, That's John's knock!Her hearts starts to race as she flashes back to a memory etched into her brain forever. The memory of them lowering her husband's casket into the ground, her standing over him in all black, weeping. Just two years ago she'd watch her husband suffer through an agonizing and terminal prostate cancer. She was there for every bad day, every treatment, dialysis and she held his hand when he died in the hospital. She watched him take his last breath, she watched them bury him.THUMP...SCRAPE....THUMP....SCRAPE. It's louder now, the knock. Maybe it's a prank...maybe it's the neighborhood kids getting her riled up? There has been multiple pranksters since John's death and her kids moved out. Being an empty-nester and a widow hadn't been easy, that's for sure. Every couple of days the kids down the road mess with her but it's highly unlikely they're out this late at night.Maybe it's in her mind playing tricks on her again, she'd talked to her therapist about hearing things, seeing John sometimes. Sometimes he'd come to her in a dream or to her bedside to comfort her when she cried out for him. She could still hear his voice. His laugh.They'd been together for so long, 35 years to be exact. When John died, a piece of her left with him and just imagining him gives her comfort.The therapist had referred her to a doctor who'd put her on medication a couple months back to help her nerves and calm her, could this be a side effect of that? She couldn't remember what the side effects were, all she can concentrate on is the person at the door.Realistically she knows it's not possible for John to be back from the dead and she begins to think just how foolish this seems until she picks up a scent. It's a woodsy scent, wet, earthy. John had always been a man of the earth, cutting the lawn, trimming the hedges, bird watching. He'd always been outdoors. Sometimes he'd miss dinner because he was outside for so long...This scent is familiar to Melanie....too familiar.Her hands shake as she almost drops the phone, picking it up to dial Frankie again.He answers, this time more irritated than the last, "Mom! It's 4 am here! I have work in a few hours!""Shh! Listen!" She holds the phone up, as close as she's willing to get to the door at the moment and there's a sound of a heavy hand scraping at the door. "Someone's here!" she's says loudly, her voice trembling."Where are you?" Frankie asks, now seeming to have a hint of worry in his tone."Home! By the front door..." Melanie's voice trembles."Call the cops! Isn't it 2 AM where you are?!" He shuffles around, getting out of bed.She goes to answer him but her signal goes out, she hears the click dead dial tone of the phone followed by the light tapping of rain and the rumble of thunder in the distance.BANG!The person outside throws their body against the door and it makes the house shake as if it were an earthquake.Melanie creeps closer towards the door, her heart beating out of her chest looking for the courage to open it. Maybe if she opened it and saw no one or maybe the neighborhood kids...she'd be at ease. And if it was him, something she'd longed for, it would be a beautiful miracle. John, back from the grave!She sees a shadow peering through the window next to the door and her face goes white. She knows her eyes aren't deceiving her.The figure is tall and slouched over, leaning against the house. JOHN! That's John's posture, his stance. Maybe it really is him! Maybe he's back for her, maybe he needs help! What if he's injured...it is raining now, she wouldn't want to leave him out in the rain...She rushes towards the door and puts her hand on the doorknob and yells "John?!" but only the knock comes again, this time she hears creaks and popping of the hinges, they want to come off. Whoever it is might actually force themselves inside!She takes a step back and hears a loud groan. That doesn't sound like John, that doesn't even sound human. The low voice growls again, this time louder. It sounds like something that would want to cause her harm, like it would tear her apart the second she opened the door.Melanie clutches her bat tightly, she won't open the door, not now, not ever.With the last loud bang against her door, Melanie falls to the floor and hurts her leg. Unable to get up, she slides towards the back of the house.That can't be John and whoever that monster is, it can't get in!

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After Midnight

jessicahawkstheauthor

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After Midnight

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Jessica Hawks

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