Scary Stories

Don't Open The door

This morning started off like any other. My wife Karen had left for work early, but I had woken up with a sore throat so I called in sick to the office.

Our dog Chester was yapping away, so I let him out into the backyard then went and laid down.

I wasted most of the morning watching Sportscenter and dozing. Finally I decided I had to muster the energy to get some work done. I was sitting at my computer, procrastinating, when I heard a horn blaring outside. I took a curious glance out the window from my desk.

A blue Prius was swerving erratically down the street. It must have been doing 60, and it was increasing speed. The horn was being blown repeatedly, in a random pattern. I couldn’t make out who the driver was before the car was gone down the road. My buddy Frank and his wife who lived in the neighborhood had a blue Prius, but he took care of that car like it was his son. He wouldn’t be driving around so recklessly.

Must have been some asshole kid screwing around, I thought to myself.

I went to go back to my desk, when I heard my phone buzzing. I picked it up, and saw I had 6 texts from my wife. Obviously concerned, I hurriedly checked them.

Dont open te door Dot tope the dorr Tdont the donr Donto ppopen the door Dont opie th dooor Dotnopen te dor

I was puzzled, but concerned. Don’t open the door? What was Karen talking about? It was as if she had tried to send me that message over and over again.

I responded asking her what was going on, but she didn’t answer. I tried calling her, but the phone went straight to voicemail.

I was about to call her office number, when the doorbell rang. I went over to the door and looked through the peephole. It was a guy in a delivery uniform, holding a package. I was about to open the door, when I  thought of the texts from Karen.

Don’t open the door.

I know I know, I was being irrational. But something just felt weird. I hadn't been expecting anything. Plus, those texts... Telling myself I was a dumbass, I nevertheless walked away from the door, and the bell rang again. And again. And again.

I was getting more and more of a weird vibe. The guy had been fucking ringing the doorbell for almost 15 minutes. What delivery guy have you ever known who didn’t give up after about 20 seconds?

I was seriously getting freaked out. Finally the doorbell stopped. I peeked out again, and the delivery guy was getting back in his truck. I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, when I realized the truck wasn’t moving.

That was 4 hours ago. The delivery truck is still parked outside my house. Hasn’t budged. Karen still isn’t answering my texts, and my calls to both her cell and her work phone are going straight to voicemail.

I keep telling myself I’m acting like an idiot, but something just feels weird. I even called the cops to report that I think some creepy delivery guy is watching my house. The operator told me they’d send a squad car by my house after I gave my name and address, but that was an hour ago and there’s no sign of anyone.

THE END