The House at the End of the Street

I was reading one late October night when I heard someone knocking on my front door.

It was around eleven.

I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I didn’t answer.

The knocking stopped after a few seconds.

I went back to my book.

Then it happened again.

Three knocks.

This time I got up and looked through the peephole.

Nobody was there.

I waited for a minute, then checked the window beside the door. I couldn’t see anyone outside either.

I figured it was probably some kids messing around. Halloween was coming up, and there were already decorations all over the neighborhood.

I went back to the couch.

About ten minutes later, somebody knocked again.

I ignored it.

Then I heard my door handle move.

Not violently. Someone just pushed it down once and let go.

I stood there for a while, trying to decide if I should call someone.

Then I heard a voice outside.

“Sorry. Wrong house.”

It sounded like an older woman.

I looked through the peephole again.

There was nobody there.

I didn’t open the door.

The next morning I mentioned it to my neighbor while we were both getting our mail.

She looked at me for a second and asked what time it happened.

I told her.

She said, “Probably nothing.”

Then she changed the subject.

I thought that was strange, but I didn’t ask about it.

A few days later, I was cleaning my garage and found an old cardboard box left by the previous owner.

I almost threw it away without looking inside.

There were some Christmas lights, a broken lamp and a stack of old magazines.

Most of them were from the early 2000s.

One was a Halloween magazine with a section about scary halloween stories to read.

I started flipping through it because I was bored.

There was a story about a woman who kept knocking on the wrong house.

The story wasn’t very good.

I remember that because I almost threw the magazine away.

Then I saw a photograph on the next page.

It was a picture of my street.

Not a similar street.

My street.

The house in the photograph was mine.

I looked at the address printed underneath.

It was correct.

I sat on the garage floor for a few minutes.

The magazine was old enough that I knew the photograph couldn’t have been taken recently.

I checked the date.

2004…

I went outside and looked at the house.

It looked almost exactly the same.

There was one difference.

In the old photograph, there was a woman standing outside my front door.

I couldn’t see her face clearly.

I took the magazine inside and showed my neighbor.

She didn’t say anything at first.

Then she asked me where I found it.

I told her.

She said the previous owner had been an older man who lived there for years.

I asked if she knew anything about the woman in the picture.

She said no.

Then, after a pause, she said, “Actually, I think I remember someone coming around here when I was a kid.”

That was all she said.

I didn’t ask more.

That night I put the magazine in the trash.

Around midnight, someone knocked on my door.

Three knocks.

I didn’t move.

After a few seconds, I heard the same woman’s voice.

“Sorry. Wrong house.”

I stayed on the couch until morning.

There was nothing outside when I checked.

I still don’t know who she was.

Maybe the photograph was some strange coincidence.

Maybe someone had taken a picture of the house years ago and the woman just happened to be standing there.

I can come up with explanations for most of it.

I just can’t explain why the magazine was in my garage.

And I definitely can’t explain why, when I looked at the trash the next morning, the magazine wasn’t there.

A moody and mysterious forest pathway captured at twilight, inviting exploration.

The Voice That Knew

He walked the trail because the others said it was nothing. Just dirt and trees and the kind of quiet that settles…