Knock. Knock. Knock.
I hear the three sharp knocks on my front door, jolting me awake. The documentary silently blares a detailed murder of a young woman in the early 1900's.
True crime. My favorite.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The three knocks continue, and I pause the documentary before I stand up to open the door, slowly walking as the knocks continue.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," I groggily say, and the knocks abruptly stop. I reach my hand for the deadbolt, then stop as it sounds like someone runs away.
I unlock the door, and slowly open as I peer outside. I look left and right, but there's no one there.
"Hell...o?" I ask, then turn my attention to the box sitting in front of the door. It's a cardboard box crudely covered with duct tape, Danger written in big letters from a black marker.
I crouch down, inspecting the box.
Grrrrrrr is the sound I hear, along with a few scratches.
"Nope."
I quickly close the door and lock it again, running back to the couch. I've seen enough horror movies to know that strange boxes showing up at your front door is not a good sign.
I turn on the kitchen light just to be safe, my heart thumping as I sit on the couch and un-pause the documentary.
As the monotone voice rambles on about how the police were searching for the serial killer, I mull over what might be in the box just outside my front door.
I hope it's not a cat, because I don't want to wake up and smell the dead body of it because it's probably suffocating in there. Any animal would not be good. And then my neighbors would be complaining about the smell of death wafting through the apartment.
But what if it's dangerous? I argued with myself, if it's something like a raccoon or tiny tasmanian devil, it'd claw my eyes out. Although I'm not sure why I thought it might be a tasmanian devil, since those things are from Australia. And, not living in Australia that'd be pretty impossible.
I mean, who captures a tasmanian devil, travels to America, and leaves it in a box at someone's front door?
Finally, I decided I'd just walk it out back by the dumpsters and let it loose. If it was a cat or raccoon, it could the streets just fine.
Grabbing a kitchen knife, I unlocked the door and slowly opened it, peering down at the box that was still there.
I let out a breath, holding the knife up to the box with both hands as I walked out into the hallway and closed the door, putting my apartment key in my back pocket.
I tapped the box with my foot, making it shake as whatever was inside it growled and scratched, trying to escape.
"Don't worry, buddy," I whispered to the box, "You'll be free soon."
Then I took a deep breath and lifted up the box, practically running for the stairwell as the box continued to shake while the growls and scratches ensued.
"I'm sorry..." I whispered to it, "I'm sorry. Don't worry..."
Finally, I made it to the bottom of the stairwell, pushing open the door out back with my shoulder. I placed the box on its side, gripping the knife in my hand. I let out another sigh, gathering the courage to run the knife along the duct tape where the top of the box should be.
The flaps of the box flew open, as a cat sprinted out of it, jumping on the brick wall before staring at me with its yellow eyes.
"See?" I said quietly, "You're free. Can I...can I go back to my apartment now?"
The cat continued to stare at me, unblinking.
"You creepy cat..." I muttered under my breath, then made my way from the door back into the apartment.
I tried the handle, but it was locked. I jiggled it a little, then reached for the key in my back pocket. That should open it.
The key wasn't there.
"I'm afraid you can't go back to your apartment just yet, Rose Pierre," a voice spoke in the darkness. I turned around, staring at a tall man wearing a top hat, placing his arms behind his back as the cat jumped onto his shoulder. "It will take a bit before you return."
"Who are you?" I held the knife in front of me defensively, my voice shaking as I stared at the strange man. Of course. He dropped the box with the cat in it off at apartment to get me out here alone so he could mug me, or murder me or something.
"W-what do you want?" I continued, watching him as he slowly stepped closer to the light, illuminating a gaunt face. His eyes looked like a glowing orange, and half of his face was black in a fiery shape.
"Only to talk," his calm voice answered, staring into my eyes for what seemed like an eternity.
I backed up a little bit, before feeling my heel hit the brick wall behind me. I was cornered with this crazy man.
"Please, Rose," his voice took on a calmer tone, "You need to hear me out."
"Only if you show me you're-you're unarmed." I answered, holding the knife farther away from my body and closer to the man.
"I'm not the one with the kitchen knife in my hands," he shrugged, but emptied his pockets and opened his jacket to reveal no gun or other weapon. "Like I said, I just want to talk."
I said nothing, glaring at him as he turned, slowly walking out of the corner area where the trash was.
"Come with me," the man chided, then disappeared into the darkness.
Again, I'd seen enough horror movies to not want to follow him, but once again, my curiosity got the better of me.
I followed the man into the dark.
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