It happened just after two in the morning.
Three slow knocks echoed through the house.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
I froze.
No one visits at two in the morning.
I looked out the peephole.
Nothing.
No car.
No porch light flickering.
No shadow walking away.
Just an empty porch and the sound of my own heartbeat.
I laughed it off.
Old house.
Wood settles.
The next morning, I opened the front door to grab the mail.
Three muddy footprints stopped right at my welcome mat.
Not leading away.
Not leading toward the road.
Just three prints…
…ending at my door.
I still haven’t figured that one out.
Have you ever heard three knocks in the middle of the night?
Has anything ever happened to you that you still can’t explain?
Tell me in the comments. I read everyone.
-Maggie Moon