A Stranger Knocked on My Door at 3 AM—What He Said Chilled Me to the Bone
There’s something about 3 AM that unsettles even the bravest of souls. It’s the dead of night, when the world is eerily silent, and shadows seem to move on their own. So when a knock echoed through my apartment at exactly 3 AM, I knew—deep in my gut—that something was terribly wrong.
The Knock in the Dead of Night
I live alone in a quiet neighborhood. My apartment is on the third floor, and no one ever visits unannounced, especially not at this ungodly hour. At first, I thought I had imagined it. Maybe it was just the wind rattling the doorframe. But then it came again. Three deliberate knocks. Slow. Measured. Insistent.
I hesitated before checking the peephole. My breath hitched. There, standing under the dim hallway light, was a man. His face was obscured by the hood of his rain-soaked jacket, and he stood unnaturally still, as if he were waiting for something. He wasn’t shuffling or glancing around nervously like someone lost. He was just... standing there.
And then he spoke.
The Stranger’s Ominous Words
His voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the silence like a blade.
"I know you're awake. Let me in."
I stumbled back from the door, my heart hammering. How did he know? I hadn't made a sound. I hadn’t turned on any lights. The only illumination came from the faint glow of the streetlamp outside. My fingers hovered over my phone, ready to call the police, but something about him... something about his voice froze me in place.
The Fear That Crept In
A primal fear slithered through me. I forced myself to peek through the peephole again, but this time—he was staring directly at me. His head was tilted, his lips twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
"I know you can hear me," he murmured. "I’ve been watching you."
I slammed the deadbolt into place, every nerve in my body screaming at me to run. But where? He was outside. I was inside. And something told me that this lock—this thin wooden door—wasn’t enough to keep him out if he really wanted in.
The Vanishing Act
Minutes stretched into eternity. I refused to move. I didn’t dare breathe too loudly. Then, as suddenly as he had come—the knocking stopped.
Silence.
Cautiously, I checked the peephole once more.
He was gone.
I waited, heart pounding, before summoning the courage to open the door just a crack. The hallway was empty, but the air felt wrong, thick with something unseen. And then I saw it—
A single piece of paper, folded neatly on the floor.
With trembling hands, I picked it up. The words, scrawled in shaky handwriting, made my stomach lurch:
"Not tonight. But soon."
The Unsettling Aftermath
I didn’t sleep that night. Or the next. Days passed, and I told myself it was over. That it was just some deranged prank, a hallucination born from exhaustion. But paranoia became my shadow. Every creak in the walls made me jump. Every knock at my door sent ice down my spine.
And then, last night, at exactly 3 AM, my phone buzzed with a new message from an unknown number:
"I’m still watching."
Final Thoughts
Was it a cruel joke? A stalker? Or something far worse—something inhuman that knew I had seen it? I don’t know. All I know is that I don’t answer the door at 3 AM anymore. And maybe... you shouldn’t either.
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