Ding dong.

                The sound rings through the house, bouncing off each wall and reverberating against the tile floors. It’s a sing-song kind of sound, humorous, almost, but still the sound of it makes my breath catch. I look up from the book in my lap and turn my head, slowly, to the front door a little ways behind me.

                It’s a simple door, thin, white wood, the knob gleaming in the dim light of the room. Long windows line either side of it and my eyes dart to them, expecting to see a face, but there are long curtains to obscure such things from me.

Ding dong.

                I climb to my feet, my legs trembling, the book falling from my lap. I want to run upstairs, pretend the doorbell is not ringing. I want run and hide, but instead I make my way slowly to the door, my cold feet tapping over the floor.

                I don’t open the door when I get to it, don’t even reach for the handle. Instead I use one finger to peel back the curtains over the windows and peer out with one eye.

                It’s dark outside, no moon, and my porch light seems to have blown out. But even so, in that pitch black beyond the panes of glass, I can see an eye peering back at me and a long, curved smile just beneath it.

                My breath draws, sharp and harsh until I almost feel I could cough, and then the smile creeps even further, widening.

                I drop the curtain and stumble back a step.

                Ding dong.

                I turn and run, my feet pounding over the tile. The kitchen is ahead of me, but no, there’s nowhere I can hide there. I turn to the stairs instead. There are many rooms upstairs, many rooms in which she would have to search before she found me.

                I leap up the steps; unlike the tile floor downstairs they’re covered in thick, fluffy carpet, but I have no foolish hopes that this will help to hide the sound of my movement.

                As I reach the landing of the second floor, I hear the door creak open. The sound is chilling and paralyzing all at once. In that moment, I am a rabbit staring into a car’s headlights, and I can’t move.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

                The door was locked, barred. It shouldn’t have opened. And yet…

                “Ding dong.”

                This time the sound is a girl’s voice rather than a mechanical melody.

                “Where is it you’ve gone to?”

                I run from her, down the hallway and past the many rooms.

                The bathroom – no. Too small, not enough space.

                Hallway closet? No way.

                My breaths come sharp and hard as I pause at the end of the hallway. There is only a bedroom left, my bedroom, but I can’t turn around to look for somewhere else to hide – her footsteps are coming up the steps, soft, cushioned by the sound of the carpet.

                I slip inside the room; dark as the night outside, but I don’t dare turn the light on. My breaths ragged, I spin a small circle. She’s coming closer, I know it, but now I’m cornered.

                Where do I hide?

                I close the door behind me, quiet as possible, clenching my teeth the entire time. Once it’s secured I run to my chosen spot.

                Countless breaths are taken there, and I have to cover my mouth to stop them from escaping. I can feel my eyes bulging, and a gasp nearly escapes when I hear it.

                Knock, knock.

                A knock, like a doorbell, normally signifies asking to be let inside. But this girl – no, this thing – does not wait. I hear my bedroom door creak open, just as loudly as the front door had.

                “Knock, knock.”

                I jump, but manage to stay silent. I hear her humming, a hair-raising, slow little tune that I could imagine going along with the ding dong of my front door.

                Her feet shuffle across the room. I wait with bated breath, imagining her ducking down to peer underneath my bed, seeing the way her smile spreads even further upon not seeing me there.

                Her humming continues, slow and soft and oh-so eerie, until suddenly it stops. The room is silent, and I try to control my breathing so she won’t hear me.

                My closet door moves, my only defense. It slides open one inch at a time, revealing me. My heart is ice, my breath still in my chest, as I look up at her. Her eyes glow red in the darkness of the room, and I’m frozen as she leans down and grabs my shoulder. Her fingers are like claws, long and sharp, and her smile reveals teeth.

                “You’re it.”