Chapter 4 – The Knocking
Lucy didn’t tell Emma about the tapping the next morning.
She decided there was no reason to worry her daughter. It was probably nothing more than the house settling overnight. Old wood, pipes, temperature changes—there were countless explanations.
Still, the memory of the sound lingered in Lucy’s mind.
Three knocks.
A pause.
Two knocks.
The pattern had been too clear.
Too deliberate.
Lucy poured coffee into a mug and stared out the kitchen window while Emma finished breakfast.
Outside, pale sunlight filtered through the tall trees surrounding the yard. The maple branches swayed gently in the cool morning breeze.
Everything looked calm.
Peaceful.
Exactly the life Lucy had imagined when she bought the house.
Emma suddenly looked up from her cereal.
“Did you hear them last night?”
Lucy’s fingers tightened slightly around the mug.
“Hear who?”
Emma tilted her head.
“The knocking.”
Lucy forced a casual expression.
“You heard that?”
Emma nodded.
“They were louder than usual.”
Lucy felt her stomach twist.
“Usual?”
Emma continued eating as if the conversation wasn’t strange at all.
“They knock every night,” she said simply.
Lucy slowly sat down at the table.
“Emma… how long have you been hearing that?”
Emma thought for a moment.
“Since the first night.”
Lucy remembered the first night clearly.
The whispering.
Emma talking to someone.
The girl in the wall.
A quiet chill crept across Lucy’s arms.
“What do you think the knocking is?” Lucy asked carefully.
Emma shrugged.
“I think they’re talking.”
Lucy stared at her.
“Talking?”
Emma nodded.
“They knock to say things.”
Lucy felt a nervous laugh rising in her throat.
“That’s not how talking works, honey.”
Emma looked up at her calmly.
“It is for them.”
Lucy didn’t know how to respond.
She tried to keep her tone light.
“Who are they, Emma?”
Emma glanced toward the wall behind the kitchen table.
Lucy followed her gaze instinctively.
Nothing was there.
Just the pale painted wall and a small hanging clock ticking quietly.
Emma lowered her voice slightly.
“The people inside.”
Lucy felt her pulse quicken.
Inside the wall.
That was exactly where the knocking had come from.
Lucy suddenly stood up.
“That’s enough imagination for today,” she said gently but firmly.
Emma didn’t argue.
She simply finished her breakfast.
The rest of the morning passed uneasily.
Lucy tried to focus on unpacking the remaining boxes, but Emma’s words echoed constantly in her mind.
They knock every night.
They’re talking.
The people inside.
By evening, Lucy had almost convinced herself Emma was just inventing stories.
Children loved mysteries.
Maybe Emma had heard the same house noises and turned them into a game.
That explanation felt comforting enough.
But when night fell again, Lucy couldn’t stop listening.
Emma went to bed around nine.
Lucy stayed downstairs longer than usual, scrolling through her phone while pretending to watch television.
The quiet house seemed to press against her ears.
Every creak felt louder.
Every faint sound carried through the wooden structure.
At around midnight, Lucy turned off the television.
The house sank back into silence.
She climbed the stairs slowly.
The hallway was dark except for the faint blue glow of moonlight through a window.
Lucy paused outside Emma’s bedroom door.
Emma was asleep again.
Her small body was curled under the blanket, her stuffed horse tucked beneath one arm.
Lucy stood there for a moment.
Listening.
Nothing.
Lucy exhaled slowly and turned to leave.
Then—
Tap.
Lucy froze.
The sound was soft.
Almost polite.
Tap.
Her eyes slowly turned toward the wall beside Emma’s bed.
The sound came again.
Tap.
Lucy stepped closer.
The knocking grew clearer.
Three knocks.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
A pause.
Lucy held her breath.
Then two more.
Tap.
Tap.
Lucy’s heart began pounding.
The pattern repeated.
Exactly the same.
Three knocks.
Pause.
Two knocks.
Emma stirred slightly in her sleep.
Then she murmured something quietly.
Lucy leaned closer.
Emma’s voice was barely audible.
But Lucy could hear the words clearly.
“Goodnight.”
Lucy’s blood ran cold.
Because Emma’s eyes were still closed.
And a moment later—
The knocking came again.
Three knocks.
Pause.
Two knocks.
Lucy stared at the wall in the dim moonlight.
And suddenly the pattern felt different.
Not random.
Not mechanical.
Almost…
Intentional.
As if something on the other side of the wall was answering.
