Paulie’s eyes were glued on the ceiling, admiring the intricacies of the popcorn ceiling in as much as he could see in by the light that trickled in around the curtains. He sighed deeply. He must have counted every single popcorn bump six times already, but his little brain wouldn’t let him go to sleep. The curtains were on the thin side, and the light was too much. It made his brain run wild with fun ideas.
But that was where the trouble was.
The light said, “Play!” But every time he did, no matter how quiet he tried to be, somehow or another he would make enough noise to wake his dad up, and then Dad would say, “I put you to bed hours ago, little man! You gotta sleep so I can sleep.”
Night after night, this had been the dance until Paulie resigned to just lay in bed since Mom and Dad—well, really just Dad at Mom’s request—put up the translucent curtains. Paulie couldn’t sleep well with these curtains, but at least he wasn’t scared of the dark. Even so, the repeated bouts of sleeplessness were starting to make Dad crankier every time he came through to put him back to bed.
Paulie’s gaze moved to watch the shadow of a tree branch play off the texturing and cause the bumps to come to life. Boredom quickly overtook him, and he slid out of bed, and flicked on his night light. He sat in the middle of the floor with his cars laid out around him, playing by its dim glow.
A part of Paulie felt silly for still having it in his room. At four years old, he was a big boy, and didn’t need the night light to sleep anymore, at least that’s what Mom and Dad had started saying. He agreed for the most part. Paulie liked the idea of being a big boy, but he also having the night light so he could play like this. And he wouldn’t admit it, but on rare occasion it was still nice to have to keep the monsters away.
He was making his cars race, blowing softly through pursed lips to make the motor noises as quietly as he could. He knew it risked waking Dad up, but car races just weren’t fun if there were no motor sounds.
He took a red car that turned into a goofy-looking, puffy robot that looked more like the Michelin Man than Optimus Prime and made it dart in front of his green car. He got a kick out of the red car’s shadow playing on the wall, stretching and contorting as it went. Then, the green car pulled ahead.
“Oh no you don’t,” Paulie whispered, and he turned the red car into the puffy robot and made it punch the trunk of the green car. In his imagination, it was as dramatic as the movies. He lifted up the green car and turned it over with this wrist several times to make it flip through the air.
As the green car was flying towards disaster, a light, double ping! stole his attention. His head turned so fast that the force could have broken his neck if it had been external.
“Oh, no,” he said. “It’s back.”
All the joy was stolen from his face, as the big-boy confidence he had was replaced with the fear of the little boy he very much still was.
He swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes off the window where the pings had come from. He stared frozen, telling himself that it was just his imagination, that it wasn’t real. And when that didn’t work, he told himself, You’re a big boy, Paulie. It can’t get you with the light on.
The crooked shadow of the leafless tree branch wobbled on the ceiling, drawing his attention from the window itself. Paulie shrank as the branch rocked back and forth. He was so transfixed that the sound of the wind that propelled it didn’t register with him, and no amount of convincing could make him acknowledge it.
The sprouts of the branch bent and deformed into a skeletal hand. The wind whistled and bony pointer finger pinged against the window two more times. Paulie thew his back against the wall with a thud and covered his eyes.
His little heart beat against his ribs like it was going to tear out of his chest as he held his breath as long as he could. When he finally allowed himself to breathe, it was in short choppy bursts. He was trying to keep quiet and doing a terrible job at it.
His fingers parted just enough to peak with one eye and see that his night light was still on. He turned his head towards it and, not daring to look with the other eye, he scooted closer to the light.
It would be safer there. It had to be. Dad said it would keep the monsters away. Paul clung to that idea. It was the only thing he had to cling to. He wanted to run, but that meant venturing outside the glow of the light. Maybe he could turn on the lights along the way, but he didn’t think he could be fast enough.
He wanted to scream, but he didn’t want to wake up his dad. He was big enough to chase away monsters, but Paulie knew that Dad would be mad if he woke him up.
He pulled his legs in tight as the bony tree finger tapped twice more on the window. He remembered what his father had said when they bought him the night light, back when they transitioned him to sleeping in this room, which seemed to have monsters hiding in every nook and cranny: “Paulie, you’re afraid of the dark,” he had said, “but monsters—they’re afraid of the light.”
He silently repeated what his dad told, feeling silly because he was supposed to be a big boy now, but he felt so incredibly small. It served as a mantra that helped a little, but Paulie’s fear lingered. His guts told him something was out there.
There was a rattle in the hall, like something big had knocked against the table. The mantra lost all its power and Paulie’s heart started doing acrobatics in his chest again.
He knew it wasn’t Benji, the family dog. The dog knew better, and he could see in the dark.
The thought of the dog stole his attention. He hoped with all his might that it was the dog, and he listened for Benji to make noise, but there was nothing other than the table’s last rattles as it came to a rest.
Whatever was out there had to be close. And the quiet was unsettling.
Paulie couldn’t keep up breathing in short and shallow breathes. The cadence of his breathing became deep, fast, and punctuated. His breathing and his heartbeat were the only things that broke up the quiet that had fallen over the house, but the quiet only lasted for a moment longer. The vase that sat on the table in the hall shattered, and Paulie let out the panicked, terrified scream he had been holding in.
The scream was answered by footsteps rushing down the hallway. It was either saving grace or the hungry monster coming to grab a quick, easy meal.
Monsters are afraid of the light, Paulie feebly told himself as some invisible force made him peak again.
The door tore open, and he screamed again at the tall imposing figure that appeared out of the hallway. One hairy arm was braced against the door and the other against the door frame. The tall figure’s breathing was labored as it leaned its head in and the light showed that it was—
“Are you alright?” his dad asked.
Paulie lowered his hands, able to breathe normally for the first time in what seemed like ages. He stayed scrunched up in the corner, still not completely sure that he trusted his dad to be his dad, even though he sure sounded like him.
He entered the room, and he was bathed in the soft glow of the night light. Paulie half expected him to turn into a monster and scream when the light touched him, but it didn’t affect him. He was the real deal. He bent down and picked up Paulie.
“What’s going on? Why were you playing out in the hall, little man?” He said, ending his question with a yawn.
Paulie threw his arms around his dad and said, “I didn’t. I was in here.”
“In here? How’d the vase break?” his dad’s tone was got a bit more serious, but it was tempered by the fact that his son was genuinely terrified.
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“It was…it was a monster,” Paulie said. “I was playing cars.”
“Where’s the monster now?”
“It was out there.” He was pointing toward the door. “But it knocked the window.”
Paulie’s dad tucked him back into bed and walked over to the window. He grabbed a handful of curtains. He looked at Paulie and said, “If there’s a monster out here, I’m beating his butt raw. You better believe it,” as he threw the curtains apart.
Outside, there was nothing but the tree. It had neither hands nor bony fingers. It jostled gently in the breeze, but it was far from alive.
Paulie’s dad brought the blanket up to his chin. “Nothing’s out there. I’d fight it if there was.”
“No. He was there. I saw him knock.”
“Saw who knock, buddy?”
Paulie struggled to articulate what it was that had come to terrify him. All he could think to call him was, “The knock-knock man.”
“I don’t think anyone is out there to be knock-knocking on your window. But I do think you need to go to bed if you want to grow up to be big and strong.”
“I’ll try.”
Paulie’s dad kissed his forehead and closed the curtains. He went over to the night light and knelt down.
“Wait!” Paulie said with fear in his eyes.
His dad’s fingers stopped inches from the square switch. His son had not needed the night light to get to sleep for six or seven months. He had started parroting what his parents had said: “I’m a big boy. The night light’s for little kids.” The look on his face, however, begged for mercy against the dark.
“You’re really scared of this knock-knock man, huh?” Paulie’s dad didn’t know what else to say. He had rarely seen his son this shaken up, even when he claimed to be spooked by the scariest monsters.
“Please leave the light on,” Paulie nearly begged.
Paulie’s dad nodded. “Sure thing, bud. Holler if you need me, okay?”
Paulie relaxed a little bit. He thought his dad was going to be mad about him staying up and playing, and about the vase breaking even if it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t think his dad was going to believe him about the knock-knock man, but he did chase him away, and he was going to let him keep the light on. Somehow, it was a comforting series of tiny, little wins, but he wondered if it was going to be enough.
He had to believe the light would protect him, but falling back on that made him feel so small and weak.
Paulie’s dad stood in the door frame, his son’s eyes were fixed on him as held onto the doorknob. “Holler if you need me,” he repeated as he closed the door.
Paulie watched the door. His heart was still beating hard, but it was relaxed compared to the pace it had kept just a moment ago. He stared as he listened to his parents cleaning up the vase.
Soon, the sounds of the broom’s bristles scraping and of Benji’s toenails clicking on the hardwood as they shooed him away from the pile of broken shards quieted down. He listened very hard, and even the breeze outside had settled down to a nearly imperceptible level.
The room wasn’t quite at peace, but it was peaceable enough that his eyes grew heavy. He blinked hard and slow, fighting to stay awake, to keep watch. Dad scared the monster away, and I have my light, he thought. He blinked again and his room got swimmy.
Suddenly, he heard a click and his eyes shot open as his night light went out. He looked around frantically, but it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom that swallowed his bedroom.
He looked up at the ceiling, where he had counted the bumps, but the popcorn ceiling turned to stalactites hanging over him and casting imposing shadows across his ceiling.
He looked at the door, which was shut tight. I’m okay if that’s closed, he told himself.
He wanted to scream for his dad, but throat felt like it was swollen shut.
He rolled over and he could have sworn he saw the silhouette of one of his cars drift across the floor. He rubbed his eyes and it was gone. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but he knew what he saw.
Then, he heard it. Two knocks on his bedroom door like the double strike of a death knell.
Paulie couldn’t breathe. His entire body was seized, save for his eyes, which locked onto the lever handle of the door. For a moment that felt like an hour, nothing happened. Then another series of two knocks resounded across the room like some ancient creature’s bony knuckles were asking for permission to enter.
Paulie gasped as he regained his breath, and when he exhaled, he whispered, “Go away!” It was all he could get out, and the most forceful that he could make it happen.
The level handle ratcheted down in a clunky staccato fashion. Paulie’s voice was stolen from him again, and he found himself trapped in his own mind again, begging for this to all be a dream, begging for his dad to intuit the danger that he was in, or even for Benji to sense that something was wrong and come and save him in a fury of growls and teeth and fur and claws.
The latch clicked as it divorced itself from the strike plate, but the door didn’t budge for what seemed like another several hours, during which time, Paulie found himself unable to breathe again.
Nothing happened for so long, that Paulie almost thought that nothing was going to happen, that it was just an awful joke, but when Paulie felt the need to pee, he found himself still too terrified to even entertain the thought of a trip to the bathroom. He resolved to hold it as he continued to stare at the door.
The door eased inward, and he stared into the thick, black line between the door and the frame. A low, guttural noise came from the other side of the door in what Paulie could only describe as a monster’s laugh.
A set of long, gristly fingers, made of more bone than soft tissue, with what looked like needles for fingernails wrapped around the door. The low glow of the most horrible eyes Paulie had ever seen appeared in the crack of the door followed by a jagged smile made of broken teeth.
The eyes and teeth faded as the door was pushed farther open by the ragged arm that looked…diseased. One hairy, enormous foot crossed into his bedroom, and Paulie knew there was only one thing he could do. He threw himself out of bed and pounced on the night light.
He flipped the switch frantically. Nothing happened, but Paulie kept flipping it for dear life as another foot thudded against his floor. He tore the night light out of the socket and smacked it as the knock-knock man slowly descended on him as if it was hunting him in slow motion, taking loud, deliberate, lumbering steps.
He could feel the monster hovering over him, and he could smell his awful, rotten breath, but he dared not look back. The enormous, gristly fingers slid into position beside him. He was done for if this didn’t work. His bladder released as the sharp claws flicked off his knee like the bait appendages of an angler fish testing its prey.
Paulie slammed the night light back into the outlet, and jerked the switch so hard it broke off, crying out in his mind, Please, Jesus. A flash of dim light flooded the room. The hand beside him burned in an invisible fire as the knock-knock man shrieked as it was vaporized into smoke that wreaked like cooking spoiled meat.
The fire alarm went off and a thunder of paws and footsteps rushed towards Paulie’s room. Mom, Dad, and Benji all burst into the room. They were revolted by the smell, and Benji growled low in his belly as he pushed his away in to smell around the room.
“What the hell, man?” Paulie’s dad said. He tried not to curse in front of his son, but it he couldn’t stop it from slipping out.
Paulie turned around with tears in his eyes. “I need new undies.”
Paulie’s mother scooped him up. “What happened, baby?” she asked.
“He’s dead.” Paulie said.
“Who’s…dead?” Paulie’s dad asked.
“The knock-knock man.”