The Knocks
She stood there dressed from head to two in black facing a coffin. Grief stricken in a room of tears that followed behind her. She lifted her hand to her mouth and placed it against the coffin, before she dragged her heels against the aisle that she once marched up adorned in white. When she got in her car, she pulled a mirror out of her purse that was gifted to her by her late husband. She whipped her tears away and adorned the small piece of glass with a cynical smile before she sped off home.
Her home was southern utopia. Three stories with more bedrooms then she could fill. Not a picture on the wall, just a grand entry staircase that took anyone’s breath away. She marched up the stairs like she was 25 again. Knock Knock Knock. She entered her bedroom and went straight to her white marbled bathroom with sinks lined in expensive perfumes and luxurious towels. She chucked off her kitten heels that were just as expensive as her Dior purse that followed with them. Knock Knock Knock. She removed her lack attire and changed into silky white pajamas. With a smile on her face, she tucked herself into her California king bed and drifted off to sleep.
Knock Knock Knock
The sounds of the knocks jostled her up from her slumber. Knock Knock Knock. She heard them again. The sounds seemed to have come from the front door. Stepping out of bed, annoyed by potential visitors, she went down the staircase to the front door. With one swift motion, she opened the door to nothing. Not a soul in sight had come to greet her. Confused and still partially asleep, she closed and locked the door, climbing back to her suite. Closing her eyes and once again falling into a deep sleep.
Knock Knock Knock
She was woken again. Annoyed again, she decided to wait for a second set of knocks. Knock Knock Knock. There they were, as if God himself had read her mind and granted her a sense of sanity. She retreated down the stairs and came to the door again. She opened the door and again there was no one there. Maybe it’s just some kids poking fun, she thought to herself. With a sigh she climbed the stairs again.
For three months the knocks came and went with no answers as to whom the knocks could have come from. Every night the woman would hear the knocks and she would go downstairs to an empty front entry. But one night she decided she would stay up the entire night. She wouldn’t have a wink of sleep. This idea came from a thought that maybe they knocks were just her imagination. So she stayed up and listened to the silence of an empty home. No sounds were made besides her breathing. Even the rustling of the trees outside decided to be quiet. Hours passed. She began to doze off, but just as her eyes shut, Knock Knock Knock!
The knocks came. She would not leave her place in her bed. She waited. Knock Knock Knock! The knocks grew closer. Knock Knock Knock! They were at the top of the stairs. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!! They banged on her bedroom door. She waited and waited but there were no more knocks. After months of searching for the creator of this annoyance she had had enough. She leeped out of bed and ripped the door open. Her heart stopped beating for the slightest second when what appeared in front of her was the man she had buried 3 months ago.
“Hello Elaine,” the figure spoke through smiling teeth.
“Steve! What is going on? You died? How are you here?” she questioned with fear in her eyes.
“You did bury me sweetheart, and I came to return the favor.”
She stepped back in response until she ran into her suede chair.
The man stepped closer, “You poisoned me.”
“NO! I would never. I love you, why would I do that?!” She spoke in a pleading tone.
“You did Elaine. You poisoned me. You’re going to get what you deserve.”
“You can’t do this to me Steve! People will notice I’m gone.”
“Sweetheart, it’s going to be okay. Please, I don’t want you to be upset.”
“What are you…”
Steve turns around to reveal two glasses of champagne filled with raspberries, her favorite.
Taken aback, Elaine responds, “What is this?”
“I just wanted to do something special for you,” he responds while handing her a flute.
She takes it from his hand and inspects it for any sort of contamination. She sees nothing.
“A toast to the most beautiful woman in the room. For the woman you are and always will be. I love you Elaine from the bottom of my heart to the stars above.” He lifted his glass to hers before he drinks. Elaine, still quizzical as to what might be in her glass pauses before lifting the glass to her lips. Two seconds later she feels faint and nauseous. She falls to the floor and stares at her late husband, gasping for enough air to scream help.
Steve bends down and plants a kiss on his betraying wife’s head before saying, “Happy anniversary my love.”
Author Bio: Lyzette Delgadillo is currently studying as a senior at California State University San Marcos. She is majoring in Literature and Writing and plans to get her teaching credentials so that she can teach high school literature. In addition to this, she has always had a passion for writing, and she would love to publish a novel one day. Her main styles and genres of writing include poetry, suspense, romance, and drama. Writing to her is an art form that displays raw emotion and words that are as unique as the author themselves.