[Story] Week 146: The Knocking
Come what Come May
This was originally published on December 12, 2022. Enjoy!
A man in a nightgown is asleep in a room, mumbling in his sleep.
An empty second pillow beside him. Books fill the room. The candles drip with wax. Burn marks on the stone wall. Books of literature around him from Macbeth to Brothers Karamazov to Tale of Two Cities. The stained-glass window gently creaks in the breeze. The moonlight reflecting off the swiveling window like a beacon searching the room.
A steady unrelenting knocking sound emerges and the man mumbles louder in his sleep.
“What knocks in my mind.” He turns again. “Nothing. The present fears are less than my horrid imaginations.”
The knocking continues and the moonlight lands on the man’s face. He sits up and his eyes burst open.
“From whence comes that incessant knocking?” He screams at the room. “Quiet! Or draw your sword!”
The knocking stops.
“The earth”, he mumbles quietly, “speaks in riddles.” The man lies back down.
The knocking returns.
He moves the covers over his eyes.
“Hear it not, for it is a knell. That summons thee to heaven. Or to hell.”
The knocking gets louder. He cowers in the sheets, deep under the covers. The man shudders uncontrollably as the knocking sound continues.
Overcoming cowardice, he jumps out of bed & opens his eyes.
He walks slowly towards a dark spot on the other side of the room, speaking as he walks slowly.
“Why, you’ve suddenly grown a tongue and birthed a language only audible to mine ears? What was due to you was due to us all.”
Each footstep mimics the knocking sound. His monologue gets louder and more maniacal.
“My name? No. Not even the devil himself could breathe mine without quivering.”
He kicks over a chair, knocking candles and ink pots off his desk. The wind picks up and the autumnal amber leaves fall into the room. The window creaks louder as the moonlight rapidly scans across the room. A raven lands on the windowsill and taps the glass.
The man turns to the bird and chuckles.
“A specter? To see me falter.”
The raven cocks its head. The beady ruby eyes glisten in the moonlight as it watches the man.
“Clay footed, reason snatched, moving from any place I please.”
He steps towards the raven.
“From the vile root I ate and survived further than all. That is who I was before. The mind maketh the enemies for the heart to battle, and I have battled them all.”
The raven eyes him. Its ruby eyes look behind him. The man follows its gaze to a black chest hidden in the dark. The man chuckles.
“Come what come may. If chance will have me bow, why chance may see me kneel without my stir.”
He steps forward towards a black chest and opens it.
In it lies his dead body, a finger sticking from below the lid, the blood drips on the ground making the knocking sound. He wipes the blood on his nightgown.
The shadow of the raven encompasses the room as it flies way.
“There, nevermore.” And shuts the lid.