Annkatrin Rothe

The Stranger

Pock Pock, the knocking on the door doesnt seem to stop. Grumpy the old man tried to get out of his bed. It was three o clock in the morning and someone seemed to think it was funny to wake him two hours earlier. He lived alone in the big, old country house near the forest. The children of the village were afraid of him. He could always hear them whispering when he passed them. My brother told me he has dead bodies in his basement. and other creepy things they said about him. Slowly he limped with his wooden leg to the door. Who is there? he grumbled.
Silence. Again he asked: Who is there? If you think it is funny to wake me up at this time, go away you had enough fun. He stopped, smiled and added. Or there will be one more body in my basement!
Listen I need your help! A low voice answered.
My help? So why you dont tell me your name? He answered.
Just open the door and follow me, it is important! The voice answered. The old man thought a moment about it. The voice was not the voice of a child or a teenager, he couldnt figure out the voice was male or female, it sounded inhuman. What could happen if he opens the door?
A few seconds thinking about the possibilities and he opened the door. Nobody was there.


All rights belong to its author. It was published on by demand of Annkatrin Rothe.
Published on on 11/21/2005.


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