Knock at the Door first draft

short story/ horror/ first draft

“God, Gracie, you’re such a prude!”

“Not everybody wants to be a drunk, Alison!” Grace Miller snapped back. She should have been used to name-calling at this point in her life, but her insides still went squiggly. She forced herself to turn away from Alison Bowers and her hard lemonade and looked out across the campfire at the other partygoers.

The ground beneath her was hard clay, with a cold that seeped up from under her into her bones. She couldn’t get closer to the fire, though, the heat made her face go red and the smoke made her eyes burn and itch. She tightened her arms around herself and tried not to glare at David Austin as he laughed and smoked with two other boys on the other side. 

She’d liked David forever, though she’d never made an impression on him. She was the weird smart girl who sat in the back of the classroom hiding books behind her textbook, or scribbling fanfiction on the back of her tests when she’d finished first. So, when he’d messaged with her after she’d liked one of his memes he’d posted, she’d been giddy with excitement. They messaged back and forth for a few weeks before he asked her if she wanted to come out with him that weekend. Of course she’d said yes.

All she’d ever wanted was to have a real date. She’d had little luck with her forays into romance so far: she’d like a boy, get up the nerve to tell him, only for him to shoot her down. She’d heard phrases like “You deserve better than me.” Or “I love you as a friend, but…” The only boys who liked her were boys who she did not like back. They were too geeky, or gross, or … experienced.

Her only kiss had been a humiliating experience at a block party last fall with a boy named Stuart Delano who was dating Alison now. Grace checked and… yep, there he was, standing with David’s group on the other side of the fire. He held something that looked suspiciously like a joint in his hand as he leaned in to say something to David, who laughed. Grace braced herself for the glances her way, but none came. 

Why am I here? She wondered, watching Alison join the boys. Stuart picked her up and kissed her hard, his hands groping the other girl’s butt. 

These were not her people. Her friends were quirky little nerds, who did stuff like write fanfiction and cosplay and send notes in code pretending to characters in their favorite stories. They did not drink or smoke pot or party. The one time she and her best friend Ada had stolen one of her mom’s cigarettes, Ada had somehow burnt her nose with it, and Grace had coughed until she’d thrown up.

“Hey Gracie!” Alison’s voice cut through her thoughts. 

Grace blinked, she hadn’t even noticed that people had begun joining her to sit at the campfire. “Hello.” 

Alison held out a small white marshmallow to her. “Here. I’m sorry about earlier,” Alison said. “No hard feelings, okay?”

“Okay,” Grace said, feeling a wave of relief wash over her as she nodded. She took the offered sweet. The marshmallow hadn’t toasted or anything, but that was okay. Grace took it and nibbled at it. She nibbled around the little smiley face symbol on a little piece of paper stuck to the sweet, noting it in passing. “Where’s David?”

“He went to take a piss. We’re making s’mores,” Stuart told her, as he loaded three on a stick and held it over the fire. The stick hung dangerously low, bowing from the weight of the candy.

“Don’t let it melt off the stick!” Alison told him, laughing. “Those are valuable.” 

Grace furrowed her brow. “Valuable? But they’re just marshmallows.”

“It’s a special recipe,” Stuart assured her. He winked.

The top marshmallow caught fire. Stuart blew out the flames before eating it whole.

“Let’s play a game!” Alison chirped, then giggled as Stuart offered her his stick and she ate the second gooey treat off it. Grace felt dirty, like she’d caught them hooking up and looked away. She really wanted to go home now, but she didn’t see David anywhere.

“We could play a kissing game,” Stuart said. He glanced over at Grace.

Grace’s mouth filled with bile-flavored saliva, a sense memory of Stuart’s tongue in her mouth, of his hot breath and clammy hands on her arms as he kissed her, the sound of people’s laughter as she recoiled from him and spat a mouthful of saliva on his shoes from trying not to vomit. “No!” Then, trying to sound less panicked, “I mean… not right now, it’s early.”

“ Maybe after a few s’mores.” Stuart said. He smiled at Grace like she’d never spit on his shoes. “I think your marshmallow is ready.”

“Here you get the first one.”

She took it and ate it. Her skin prickled like people were watching her, but she shook that off as paranoia.

“Here, have another!” Alison held it out to her and Gracie started to take it.

David crossed between them, plopping down next to her. He grabbed the marshmallow and stuffed it into his mouth.

Stuart laughed while Alison glared at David.

Grace’s stomach was queasy, so she decided she’d had enough sugar for now. She sat and listened to people talking and laughing. The heat of her face felt tingly, but not in a bad way, though she was pretty sure her arms and legs were turning into blocks of ice. 

She held up her hands, expecting icicles, but they were normal fingers. She wiggled them, thinking about the muscles beneath the bones, the nerves and blood vessels. Grace was so focused that she stopped paying attention until David nudged her.

“Huh?” she asked, blinking as the present came back into focus. 

“It’s time for ghost stories!” Alison smiled at her. 

Grace had never noticed that Alison had so many teeth. She wondered if she had as many teeth as Alison, so she tried counting them with her tongue so no one could catch her. 

David nudged her again. “Do you know any?”

“Any what?” Grace asked, tongue still poking at her molars. Her voice sounded muffled, so she stopped, asking again in a normal tone.

“Do you know any good spooky stories?” Alison leaned in, holding out a marshmallow. 

“I don’t like scary stories,” she admitted. She shook her head at the proffered candy.

Multiple people around the fire groaned.

  “C’mon, Gracie, everybody likes ghost stories around a campfire,” Madison Bowen insisted as she reached over Grace to take the marshmallow for herself. Her smile was nicer than Alison’s had been, with the right number of teeth. Her eyes were little smoky blue marbles with flames in them as Grace met them.

“I bet she doesn’t know any good ones anyway,” Stuart scoffed. “Her idea of spooky is the cartoons they play every Halloween with Garfield and Donald Duck.” He tossed two marshmallows, one after the other in the air, catching them in his mouth.

Grace straightened. “Yes, I do! I just don’t like thinking about them because they’re true.”

“Buuuuuullshit!” Stuart challenged her. “I think you’re lying.” He leaned in, “I think you’re a big ole wimp.” His mouth smiled, but when Grace met his eyes there was zero humor there. His pupils were dilated, but as she watched, they shrank.

She broke the gaze to look away, rubbing her arms. “Fine, I’ll tell you the worst one then, will that get you to shut up?”

“Nothing on earth will get Ali to shut up,” said Stuart.

Alison swatted him in mock rage. “Bastard!” She turned her attention to Grace. “Go on, Gracie, tell us the story.”

Everyone was watching. Grace took a deep breath to steady herself. It’s just a story. She felt hot all over, except for her ice butt and fingers, but David was warm next to her, and she had to say something or else they were going to start making fun again.

“I grew up not to far from here...” Grace began. She pointed to the left. “Not too far over that hill past Wicker Wood.”

Grace studied the fire and continued. “I was eight years old, I think. My stepsister was supposed to be babysitting me while our parents went to party, but she’d took off with her boyfriend and made me swear I’d never tell her dad. I’d never been by myself before, and I was really scared, but I was more scared of Lynda, so I piled all my stuff in the living room, which was big and bright and way less scary than being up in my room in an empty house, and I’d know when she was home.”

“Get on with it, Gracie-Boo,” someone grumbled in the shadows, but Alison shushed them, leaning over to watch Grace with an unnerving focus. 

Grace blinked. Gracie-Boo was what Lynda would call Grace when she liked her. She squinted into the dark but couldn’t make out the speaker. She shook her head and continued.

“It was super late, sometime after midnight. Lynda should have been home by then but she wasn’t. I was really scared, but I was really tired so I kept dozing off until there was a big thump on the porch, followed by someone pounding at the door.”

The fire popped and a stick fell. It almost sounded like a knock for a moment. Someone on the other side of the fire giggled nervously. Grace hesitated until David took her hand and squeezed it.

Now she had to pause longer to get a grip on herself. David, and her, holding hands! She pushed down the giddiness and tried to focus. Where was I? Oh yeah, the knocks… She felt an icy shiver down her back but kept going.

“At first it sounded like someone using their knuckles, then slapping their palms on the door. It was scary, but I thought it was Lynda, that she had to pee maybe, or lost her key and felt creeped out. I got up to open the door… but I felt this weird buzzing in the air so I was walking really slow, like I was underwater. 

“Then whoever was out there spoke. ‘Let me in!’ And the voice was a little squeaky, scared, and shaky. Lynda’s voice isn’t like that. Her voice has always been kinda smoky, like Stevie Nicks, and she talks in a deep Southern accent. This wasn’t her.”

Grace looked into the dancing flames, imagining she can see her memory there. “I asked, ‘Who’s there?’ thinking maybe I misheard, but they said it again. ‘Let me in, please! Something’s coming!’” 

She chewed on her lip. “You know how before it storms you can smell it? That rain on rock smell? It was there, but it was weird somehow, electric. I was so scared. I asked again who it was.”

Grace stopped. 

There was silence, then David asked softly, “Did they answer?”

Grace nodded. 

“Well, what the fuck did they say?” Stuart asked. Despite his snark, he and the rest of the partygoers were sitting in silence, leaning toward her. A sea of shiny marble eyes watching her talk was before her. It made her stomach flip flop. They did not look real. She squeezed David’s hand, then kept going.

“She said, ‘Grace Miller.’ Not like she was saying my name, but that she was telling me hers.”

No one was speaking now. No more snide comments, no more jostling or snacking on the fancy marshmallows. They were listening in rapt attention.

Grace took a breath. “I told her she couldn’t come in, and she started pounding on the door, saying something was coming, begging me to let her in…but I was too scared. I stood there, hand out, shaking all over, and I could hear something coming from the woods. It sounded like something big, galumphing closer, growling, and then there was a loud snarl, and a scream that sounded kind of… wet? Then nothing. Complete silence. Then, the door opened.”

Grace bit back a smile when she heard Alison squeak. “It was Lynda. ‘Gracie-Boo, what the hell are you doing? You know you can’t go outside at night.’ I told her what had happened. She laughed at me and told me it was a nightmare, but she let me sleep at the foot of her bed for a few days. She felt a little guilty that she’d left me alone for so long.”

Silence. Then Alison asked, “Was there anything on the porch?”

Grace shook her head. “No… there was a smear of something red on the hand rail, but by the time I was able to show it to Lynda, it had rained so it was barely there.”

“Bad dream?” David asked. He let go of her hand so he could dig out a pack of cigarettes. He lit a couple and passed one over to Stuart, who passed it back and forth with Alison.

Grace shook her head. “No, I was awake. I know what nightmares feel like, and I’ve never sleepwalked.”

“Damn, Gracie,” Madison shivered, leaning against her boyfriend, a boy Grace didn’t know. “You’re a pretty good storyteller. You should write that down.”

“I told you, it’s not a story, it was true,” Grace insisted.

Stuart coughed the word “Bullshit” and Grace stood. Everything wobbled for a moment, but she was able to get her balance. She walked away toward the cars.

“Grace!” They tried to call her back. She heard Stuart call out “Buzzkill!” after her, but she didn’t stop until she was at David’s car.

He met her there. “C’mon, it was a good story.”

“Can you take me home?” She wrapped her sweater tighter around herself.

David hesitated. “I… can’t.”

Grace’s mouth dropped open. “Why not?”

David rubbed the back of his head and would not meet her eyes. “I’m… tripping.”

“David!”  Grace had had enough. She shoved his shoulder. “You asked me to come here with you, and you’re tripping? Actively, as in right now?”

He nodded. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but he was grinning.

Grace stomped over to the campfire. “Where is it?”

Alison was blowing smoke rings at Stuart, who was snapping his teeth at him. Madison and her boyfriend were kissing. There was another couple, but they were too far away for Grace to make out who they were. 

She blinked a few times and wondered if she had lost a contact, but when she rubbed her eyelids, she could feel them wiggle a little as she shifted them.

“What?” Alison asked, finally noticing Grace standing over them.

“The drugs. The acid, or mushrooms, or whatever poison you’re all taking. Where is it?”

Stuart started laughing so hard he fell back, his hair almost getting singed.

“Stay Puft!” Alison sang, giggling.

Oh no. The marshmallows. They’d put acid in the stupid marshmallows. And she’d eaten two! Grace snatched the bag next to Alison and threw it into the campfire.

Alison and Stuart sat up. “Hey! Stupid bitch, what the hell are you doing?”

“Leaving!” Grace stormed away.

She walked past David’s useless car, walking down the dirt trail. The ride had taken forever, but she hoped that her rage would give her fuel to keep going. 

“Grace, wait!” 

She heard footsteps as David caught up to her. She refused to stop, but she didn’t speed up either. She could hear him panting in effort and it sent a small thrill of vindication. There, now they were both in pain.

“Grace! Would you please wait?” 

Please is the magic word. She’d always heard that, so she halted, turning on one heel to face him. He stopped before her, hands bracing on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. She gave him ten seconds before snapping, “What?”

“Don’t go.” There was a wheeze in his voice.

Grace remembered he had asthma and felt a twinge of guilt, but steeled herself. “You invited me here to drug me? Why? What did I do to you?”

David shook his head. “I kept taking them from you, remember?”

Grace paused, thinking back. Had he been there when she’d eaten any? She wasn’t sure, all she could see in her mind’s eye was marble eyes, flames, and rows of sharp little teeth. “You shouldn’t have invited me, then hid what you were doing.”

“I didn’t hide it…” He ran his hand through his hair. “I just… didn’t tell you.” He met her eyes, exclaiming, “But you didn’t ask!”

Grace threw up her hands. “I’m going home.”

David grabbed her upper arm. “C’mon, Grace, don’t be-“

Grace yanked her arm out of his grasp. “What? A prude? A wimp? A loser? Your friends poisoned me and you’re not even sorry! You’re just… like… them.” She breaks off into a run toward the woods to shake him off.

She heard his footfalls as he stumbled after her, calling for her to wait, that he was sorry, he really was, he didn’t mean it, but she wouldn’t look behind her. Couldn’t now, there was a feeling of impending doom welling behind her. She kept her eyes ahead of her, following the moon that peeked through the tree canopy. It reminded her of Alison’s smile and to her horror it morphed into that overpopulated grin full of crooked sharp teeth.

“You may have noticed, I’m not all here myself.”

Grace stopped in her tracks. Was that aloud or in her head? “Hello?” She realized she no longer heard David’s progress behind her, and now she wondered if he had followed her or if she had hallucinated it. She was sure she was imagining the things flittering through the trees, the dark shadows, the marble eyes. 

“Hello?” she squeaked again. Nothing ahead of her, but she could feel… something… behind her, rising out of the dark. The smell of Stuart’s boy funk mixed with some sort of wild animal musk hit her nose. “Stuart? Alison? I’m done, okay? You win. Just let me go home.”

A hiss came from the shadowed wood. “Gra-a-a-a-a-a-c-i-i-i-e-….” Something called. “Gra-a-a-a-a-c-i-e-Boo…”

Grace clamped her hands over her ears. “Leave me alone!”

Gibbering, hysterical chuckles far removed from humanity erupted around her. She kept hearing her name, said slow and menacing. Then again, and again, picking up tempo until it was a cacophony. “Gracie… Gracie… Gracie…”

She broke into a run, stumbling helter skelter over the uneven ground, past trees. The voices blended into a roar that slowed into a growl, and Grace knew it was the monster from her childhood come to life.

Her chest barely contained her heart as she fled toward home.

She burst from the tree line, sprinting toward the dark porch. She tripped up the porch and began pounding on the door. “Let me in!” she pleaded. “Please, please let me in!”

After a few moments, a small voice, one she knew all too well because it was her own, responded: “Who’s there?”

“...Grace Miller...”