It was a little past midnight when the knock came—three slow, deliberate raps that echoed through the silence of the house like thunder in a crypt. I had been reading in bed, the storm outside a perfect backdrop for Poe. The power had flickered out hours ago, and the candle beside me cast long, flickering shadows on the walls. At first, I thought I imagined it. But then came the knock again, this time louder, sharper, like bone against wood.
I crept downstairs barefoot, the wooden floor cold beneath me. The front door loomed ahead, half-lit by the dying flame of my candle. Through the frosted glass, I could see the silhouette of a man. Tall. Still. Too still.
"Who’s there?" I called, voice shaking.
A pause.
Then, a voice like wind rustling through dry leaves: "I’ve come for what was promised."
My breath caught. What was promised?
"I think you have the wrong house," I said, heart racing. But the doorknob began to turn, slow and deliberate. I hadn’t locked it.
It creaked open an inch. The candle flickered violently, then went out.
In the sudden dark, I felt the cold before I saw him, an unnatural cold, like winter had stepped into my hallway. The door now swung wide open, yet no rain or wind came in. Just the man. His face was hidden by a wide-brimmed hat, shadow swallowing every feature. His coat looked older than the house, long and moth-eaten, and wet not with rain, but something thicker. Darker.
"You made a bargain," he said, stepping in. "Twenty-five years ago. The night you didn’t die."
My breath caught in my throat. Memories surged, my near-drowning in the lake, when I was ten. The voice I’d heard under the water. "Do you want to live?"
"No…" I whispered.
"Yes," he corrected, stepping closer. "You begged for life. I granted it. The time is now owed."
He raised a hand—skin like parchment, nails too long. Behind him, the shadows twisted, and something ancient stirred within them.
I turned to run, but the house had changed. The hallway stretched endlessly, doors melting into walls. I was trapped.
"You can’t run from a debt of the soul," the stranger murmured. "But... I offer choices."
He extended two objects from the folds of his coat—a rusted coin and a silver key. They hovered in his open palms, gleaming despite the absence of light.
"The coin buys you more time. But the cost will grow."
"The key opens a door you can’t return from. But you’ll be free."
I hesitated. Behind him, the shadows swirled violently, forming shapes that writhed and moaned—faces stretched in silent screams, hands clawing the air, reaching toward me. The house groaned, as though alive and in pain.
I stepped back, clutching my chest, trying to make sense of it all. “Why now?”
"Because the moment has ripened. The soul ages like fruit—some rot slower than others."
I looked again at the key. Something about it pulsed. It seemed to breathe in my direction.
The man took a step forward, and the air grew thick, my lungs struggled to pull in even a thread of breath. The walls were closing in. The ceiling dipped lower, almost pressing against my scalp. The coin in his left hand began to melt, oozing black tar, dripping onto the floor and burning holes where it landed.
“Time is running out,” he rasped.
And I knew, if I didn’t choose, he would.
In a moment of wild desperation, I lunged for the key.
The moment I touched it, a scream erupted—not from the man, not from me, but from everywhere. The house, the wind, the walls, the shadows, they all shrieked in unison. The floor split beneath me. Gravity vanished. I was falling, no, plunging into darkness, deeper and deeper, past memories, regrets, forgotten promises, voices chanting things I couldn’t understand.
Then, Silence. Black. Cold. I woke with a violent jolt. My sheets were twisted around me, soaked with sweat. My throat burned from a scream I must have let out in my sleep. Outside, the storm had passed. Dawn was just breaking, painting the sky with pale gold. Everything in my room looked normal—peaceful, even.
Just a dream, I told myself. Just a dream.
I swung my legs over the bed, trying to calm my racing heart. But when my foot touched the floor, I froze. Something hard and cold was beneath it. I reached down. A silver key lay there, gleaming softly in the morning light.
Still pulsing. Still breathing.
I kept my sight towards my wardrobe, a light coming from inside. Never seen before.
I shivered through the floor, seeking the source. And found a bottle filled with fireflies.
My hands still shivered, got hold of the bottle. Trying to open it, but couldn't. My windows creaked by the wind gave me the opening. I threw the bottle outside. The bottle hit on a rock, broken. The fireflies escaped. A sigh of relief.
"So you chose to be..."
A voice behind me, I sensed his breath touching my ears and hair.
Trembling, my hearts pounded like I'm out of oxygen. I turned around.
No one there, except me and my opened wardrobe. Again a sigh of relief as I turned around to close my door, I got pulled inside my wardrobe, like a vacuum machine sucking the dust inside. Everything went dark. I screamed, struggled...
Then I got slapped. I opened partially my eyes, I saw my mother standing beside me, saying something. But my eyes went towards the wardrobe. It was closed. Atlast I found peace. Everything was a dream. I thought what if it wasn't a dream........
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