Shut the Door

I have an obssession of sorts. I admit to this obssession fully.

No, it isn't one of the normal obssessions, one of the everyday obssessions that we all have in some form, like cleaning everything, or folding all the clothes, or making sure that everything is hung up. No, nothing like that.

You see, the unusal thing about my obssession is that mine is not irrational or purposeless. No, my obssession stands right alongside my basic need to survive. I have an obssession with shutting doors.

Go ahead.

Laugh.

You wouldn't think that shutting the door is all that important, would you?

No, you wouldn't.

After all, what's the worst that could happen? Wasting a little air conditioning? Letting in a bug or two? Right?

Wrong.

Think about why we created doors. Think about why we have them. It's not to keep things in, not so much as trying to keep them out.

For me, for my safety and my sanity, the door doesn't have to be locked, no, that part isn't important. But all doors, every door, everywhere, has to be shut. It has to be shut because of what's trying to get to me. What's trying to get inside. It will come in through the smallest crack, the tinest flaw in how I have closed it. For that I check and double check. It's only to keep me alive.

My family can never understand. They think I'm crazy already. But I know that it's all the proof they need, an invisible horror trying to pass my doors, to get me put in an asylum. So I can't tell them. But, you know, maybe an asylum wouldn't be so bad. I bet they always shut their doors there.

BUT NO.

I can't give anyone, least of all my tormentor, the satisfaction of knowing that I've lost. As long as I'm free, even if I'm the only one who knows, I still have a chance at victory. So I'll keep my motuh shut, even if nobody would believe me if I told them.

You don't. I can tell.

I can see you know. Sitting there, at your computer, smiling and laughing, telling yourself you won't get a site full of silly scary stories get to you. The internet is such a funny place. But this is real. Every word. And now I tell you my little secret. As you read this, I am freed. Even if you do not believe, this passes him on to you.

Yes.

He's leaving me now. I will never again have to hear his incessant, mocking tapping on my carefully shut door. A tapping only I can hear. He's gone from my life. He torments you know.

...

...

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Can you hear it?

Yes.

He's knocking on your door.

I know you can hear him.

...

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Knock knock.

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Thank goodness you closed your doors.

You did, didn't you?

All of them?

I hope, for your sake you did.

Have fun with my little friend.

And remember.

Shut the door.