Three Knocks (Part Two)
If you’d like to read the first portion of my short horror story, Three Knocks, please visit:
Here is the ending...
Wide, unblinking eyes stared at him, sending a sense of urgency up his spine. But Colt didn’t move when the eyes glowed red. Bile crept to his throat as he watched the sinister blackness surrounding those eyes morph into an endless series of human faces.
King groaned and whined, but he didn’t leave Colt’s side.
Body thrumming with adrenaline, Colt stared into the wicked glass for who knows how long until the darkness and eyes gave way to Colt’s everyday reflection.
And all was as it should be.
Colt looked down at King who was eyeing the mirror with his head cocked as if questioning what they’d just seen.
Colt chuckled even though it didn’t feel right. “Hey there boy.” The feeble nature of his voice disgusted him, so he patted the side of King’s chest in an attempt to reassure both of them. “To be honest, I’d never been so scared in my life. I think I better get some carbon monoxide detectors or maybe get the property checked for radon. Must be gases messing with our heads.”
King stayed close when Colt stepped forward to pick up the blanket.
But as he was about to cover the mirror, three cold, dead knocks vibrated the room.
Colt’s heart beat harder than ever while King’s long, painful whine twisted his insides.
Foreboding pressed on the room, so Colt dropped the blanket and, without removing his gaze from the mirror, bent down and felt for his gun.
Weapon in hand once more, he stood and watched, frozen with horror, as letters carved themselves, one at a time, into the surface of the mirror. Colt’s ears would bleed from the pain of the etching sound that was amplified through what seemed to be every crevice in this hellish space he called home.
When the noise subsided, he beheld the words…
When the words disappeared, Colt snapped. Fear driving him full force, he jabbed the mirror with butt of his gun.
It didn’t crack.
It didn’t crack.
But on the third try, Colt wished he had run while he was ahead. The hairline fracture he’d managed to make in the blasted thing was now releasing a blackish sand that crawled down the wall toward King.
Confusion pulled Colt in so many directions, he didn’t move. Again, he stood there and watched as this nightmare unfolded before him.
Too fast and too evil.
There was no escaping.
King, consumed by the entity, turned menacing red eyes on his master.
Colt stepped back and shouldered his gun.
Livid growls and teeth advanced.
Fright forced Colt to do the unthinkable.
He pulled the trigger.
Daylight glowed in the window, but Colt was cold—a deep, aching chill burned inside him.
He had to get to the window.
Away from this frozen darkness.
The light would be warm.
Would take away the pain.
Groggy and needful, he made his way to the glass and peered out.
King’s remains lay on the basement floor.
But that wasn’t all.
Colt’s own body, whole and unharmed, stepped over what was left of King and approached the other side of the glass with the blanket at the ready.
Frigid and in terror, he watched his own smiling eyes glow red while three wretched words carved themselves into the glass before him.