My eyelids are left ajar while I laid on my bed and breathed seemingly faster than I used to. Those hands quivered as I made them pull a battered blanket towards my neck. Despite my mind filled with that perplexity, I still believe everything is all right.
However, that perplexity consumes my time every night, makes me overthink and leaves me in this dark room in the momentum of eerie and cold daring.
I do love this feeling of being near into the gates of mystery, and here I came, at once, I'll be finding out to my year-long question. What happens at three o'clock, the so-called "Devil's Hour"? It started as an internet trend, but it became a notion for me, to prove.
Tup-tup.
I couldn't be wrong.
That must be the steps of a man outside. I heard it with my ears, not by the schizophrenic voice inside my head.
Tup-tup.
In the coldness of this room, fear suddenly visited my system. A silhouette of a man stood by my curtained window. It's not a woman. A woman tiptoes, but this intruder walks blatantly boastfully. I couldn't be wrong.
That must be a man despite it looking like a bat with the cape of a nobleman.
That must be a man despite it looking like an apparition from yesteryear. He stood there, making no move.
"Who are you?" I asked him. I quivered as I pulled the blanket into my face, covering my mouth. Nothing but contempt towards the situation shuddered in my spine. Of course, it's fear. It can't be anything else than human's very instinct of nightly ghosts. "Who are you, mister?"
That mysterious man left the window. He was quick, and after some minutes dictated by the loud ticking of that old wall clock near me, I hadn't heard any of his steps again. A continuous knocking, however, disturbed my pacified heart. It was heavy, deep, and contemptuous.
Startled, I rushed out of this claustrophobic bed to retrieve a sappy knife from the kitchen. I held it tightly, fearing it might fall.
"Who are you!?" I cried, gazing into the statues of saints displayed by the altar and reciting my prayer under a hoarse voice. There was nothing in my mind, but that tremor became severe than earlier. I could feel my fingers losing their grip on the knife, but, good God! The knocking vanished. It brought unusual tranquility to my side, making that knife fall on the dusty floor and bouncing away from my feet.
I thought it was all safe again.
"Your intimidation is nothing worthy of a giggle!" I managed to articulate those words, pretentiously brave yet expressive enough to warn him away. I was obviously a weak person characterized by the gritting of these teeth. "Show yourself, s-stranger! Or, I'll not let myself come into uncertainty to kill you right there."
He giggled haughtily, and I was correct. He was a man. A man that I don't recognize. A man that I fear breaking into my house. I knew I couldn't stand a chance against him with my mind occupied by fear and emptied of sane reasons, so I ran to the telephone and called the policemen.
"Help! There's a crazy person outside our house!" I muttered, holding the telephone closely. "I don't know what to do!"
The other line answered: "Fear none, miss. May we know your address?"
"Block 4, Lot 47B, Nuestra Madre Street." I finished the call.
The next thing that came to my senses, was to call my older brother from his bedroom. It must be the best choice of mine to drive away from this crazy outside. My sane brother could probably handle this situation better than I could.
However, he wasn't there. His room was all empty of his presence. He must be somewhere else. If not here, then where?
A grin rose on my face as I understood this situation. How could I be such a fool and not know this beforehand? My brother could be pranking me!
Doubting nothing, I walked towards the door.
"Kuya, don't make a fool of me!" I grabbed the knob and saw my brother. He was wearing a wig and make-up. There he stood confused as if all the fun he had enjoyed earlier dissolved to nothing.
"Happy Halloween, Victoria!" he greeted, changing the mood and knowing this prank didn't go way longer than he did expect. "Afraid, aren't you?"
"You are such a jerk! I am a person of gentlefolk, and I must say that was more terrifying than any horror movies I'd watched,"
"You know what," he murmured, "I am just in front of the door the whole time— knocking and laughing. It's quite funny that you didn't look over into my room first before you jump to a conclusion that a psychopath must have broken outside of a neighboring facility."
I punched his shoulder and laughed at my foolish reaction earlier. "Because of you, I called the policemen over, but anyway, we should tell them the crazy person had left."
Suddenly, something came to me. It was realization. A terrifying one.
"Kuya," I called him again.
"Yes, Victoria?"
"If you are here at the door the whole time, who stood outside my window?"
Confused, we looked at each other. I could see his genuine perplexity, telling me that he didn't go there. Then, who could it be?
I realized there was something wrong.
Something, someone... was out there. I stood still, looking outside the door that I just opened. Leaves rustled over the cemented floor, and a cold gust... blew into my face.
"Who... is it?" I asked myself again.
--
Narrator's POV
The news for this morning aired too early. The headline was: "two siblings found dead before sunrise."
At the moment, the family of Victoria Angara was grieving.
They were seeking justice for these children, but it was impossible to know the culprit.
"When we fall asleep, we don't truly know who's just outside our doorstep," said the newcaster, hinting a smile after.
picture source: Unsplash (Photos for Everyone): https://unsplash.com/photos/xZjiUR7SWIQ
