There was a legend of a great beast that roamed around the little village of Braelic Hill; he was tall, his skin as black as tar, had antlers of deer, and sharp spikes that sprouted from the back of his head and shoulders.
Rumor had it that if someone were to stare deeply into the forest nearby, you would spot a pair of glistening white eyes staring right back, and a hypnotizing, whistling melody would follow. That is how the beast would lure unknowing people, especially children, into his clutch. And if you were not hypnotized by his whistle, he would follow you, find out where you lived, and knock on your door; gently, and politely, to trick you into thinking that he was only one of the townspeople.
After many disappearances had happened with this beast lurking about, the village people had become accustomed to calling him… The Knocking Man.
. . .
The head of the village, Chief Gailman, was an astute man of leadership and pride. He had a young daughter named Annabelle, who was rebellious by nature. She fussed with her bonnet and tugged at her frilly dress, uncomfortable and itchy to no end. Pouting her freckled face and wafting her locks of chocolate-brown hair away from her amber eyes, she groaned gruffly at her father.
“You must learn to behave, Annabelle,” He would scold her, “‘else the Knocking man shall take you away forever.”
“Maybe I want him to take me away forever,” Annabelle sneered back, stomping her foot into the ground, “I bet he’d let me wear whatever I wanted. And he’d play with me more than you ever do.”
“He will gobble you up and make a lunch of you if you continue to spout this nonsense! You will grow to be a proper lady and that is the end of it. It is what your mother would have wanted,” Chief Gailman sighed gruffly. As much as the chief did not believe in The Knocking Man (yet he used the disturbing story to set the chaotic girl straight), the both of them knew quite well that if he was real, he could have very well been the cause of the disappearance of Annabelle’s mother. She had a sickness before she disappeared; bed-ridden and weak. She did not have much time left. Then one day, suddenly, she had vanished from her deathbed. They mourned her, knowing that the Knocking Man had most likely made away with her life. Crouching down and fixing Annabelle’s bonnet, Chief Gailman frowned. “Run home, Annabelle.”
Annabelle scrunched her nose and ran away to the house she lived in and slammed the door.
In truth, Annabelle was lonely. She did not have friends, all of the other girls looked at her funny, and the boys laughed at her, for she was loud and rampant; difficult to control. Just someone that others saw as different. So all she could do was have her own fun, but she was often scolded for it. All she could really do was sit and look out the window from her small house, admiring the nature and the sounds of busy townfolk. She often fell asleep to this sound, dreaming the hours away until her father would come home and take her up to her bed to tuck her in. She dreamt of running away and into the forest, despite the legend’s warning; to run away and live a fun, free, invigorating life of her own.
This time however, she was able to stay awake. She dreamed not that day. Instead, she felt a cold breeze coming from outside, as she observed. The sun was beginning to set. The village clamor began to die down; and Annabelle’s father would be home soon. She found herself zoning out until something caught her eye. Deep in the forest were two dim lights that seemed to fight against the light of the setting sun; whiter than any cloud she had ever seen. As soon as she noticed it, the two eyes blinked at her slowly, almost invitingly, as a chill ran up her spine. She gasped and closed the curtains, turning her back towards the window and sinking down in her seat. That was when she heard it. Five distinctive notes; all in a minor key, out from the mouth of the beast lurking in yonder forest. Annabelle knew what would come next; the infamous knock. Annabelle’s head turned instantaneously when she heard the front door open; had the Knocking Man not even bothered to knock before coming in to devour the little girl? She shook at the thought, before the face of her father popped in from the doorway. Before he could utter a word, Annabelle yelped:
“My eyes happened ‘pon the Knocking Man in the wood!”
“Oh, Annabelle,” Her father sighed, setting down his top hat on the table.
“I swear it, Papa! He stared at me and whistled that whistle of his! He’s coming to make a lunch of me just like you said!” Annabelle whimpered, sitting frozen in fear.
“That is just a fable I told you to frighten you a little, the Knocking Man is no such thing, Annabelle.”
“But–!” Annabelle squeaked, “I saw him…!”
“Enough. It’s the hour of rest. Wash up and get into your lounging attire. I have a meeting to attend to tomorrow, you will need to wake yourself up for lessons in the morning,” tutted Gailman, removing his coat and and walking up the stairs in the house.
Annabelle pouted. Once her father was gone, she looked out the window once more. The eyes were gone.
Annabelle washed up and dressed in her lounging clothes. She rested her head late into the night, but yet she did not rest. She lay with her blanket wrapped tightly around her body, her curiosity mixed with fear daring to make her look out the window again. The eyes were still gone; the whine of the wind making her jump, her thinking that it was the whistle of the Knocking Man again. She looked up to the moon, allowing herself to sneak to the brink of relaxation, before something she heard behind her shattered the whole process.
Knock…Knock…Knock…
It was gentle and quiet; so quiet that Annabelle almost thought she had been hearing things. Her curiosity persevering, she slowly crept out from her bed and walked over to the door.
“W-Who is it?” She whispered. No answer. She had hoped that it was just someone wandering around the village in their sleep. Annabelle’s hand trembled towards the door handle; there were no thoughts in her head, she was just doing.
The door creaked open, the sound slicing through the silence. There in the door frame was the 8-foot-tall stature of The Knocking Man himself!
It was here when Annabelle would have screamed her lungs out from her terrified being, but the Knocking Man, as tall and looming as he was, was no where near as revolting as how the villagepeople had described him.
He was standing there, his deer-like ears flicking in the wind at the sight of the little girl. His antlers were small, the spikes on his shoulders and back of his head seemingly tufts of black fur on his smooth, dark body. The little girl observed him, with awe and subsiding fear, as she stood waiting for something to happen.
His white, glowing eyes gently looking over her, the silent Knocking Man crouched down to her height. He kneeled his digitigrade legs to the ground, and held a clawed hand out to her. Clutched in his hand was blue snapdragon.
Annabelle’s expression almost softened, a feeling of weird whimsy washing over her. She looked up at the Knocking Man, then back at the flower.
“Is this.. for me?” she whispered, her little hand reaching towards the little blue flower. The Knocking Man nodded slowly, blinking his eyes slowly. Annabelle took the flower and held it. As soon as she took it, the Knocking Man stood up again slowly. He then held his hand out to her once more; but this time, standing out of the way of the doorframe. Annabelle looked up at him, confused at first, but then realized what he meant.
“You want to take me away…?” Annabelle said curiously, a hint of worry in her voice. The Knocking Man tilted his head, his ears flicking.
“I can’t… My father would be all alone.”
The Knocking Man understood her answer and blinked with sympathy. He gently patted her on the head, and stepped back out from the door frame. He then looked to his side, and gestured towards the door. After a couple of seconds, a human woman peaked her head out from the frame, and walked in a couple of steps. It was as if the woman was the real Knocking Man, as seeing her had caused an even bigger reaction from Annabelle than when she saw the man himself. The little girl stood in shock and amazement, overwhelmed and joyous tears stinging her eyes.
“Mama…!” She whispered harshly, the woman collapsing to Annabelle’s height and immediately engulfing her in an embrace.
“Oh, Annabelle,” Her mother laughed, joyful tears fleeing her eyes.
“I thought… I thought you were–!” Annabelle cried.
“The Knocking Man saw that I was near death. He took me away in my sleep and took care of me. And now he’s brought me back to you,” Annabelle’s mother explained, “he is not the monster that everyone has made hearsay with. He saved my life. Every day, I asked him to watch over you through the window above your little bed as you slept the day away; I needed to know that you were safe.”
Annabelle smiled a wide smile, holding onto her mother as she hadn’t been able to for the longest time. She looked back to the door frame, but the man had already gone. The two heard a whistle in the wind, a farewell, those same five notes, fading into the forest.
The moon glowed bright. Sounds of joyful cries and laughter rang out from the house, nevermind the time of night; a reunion between man and wife, daughter and mother, was flourishing. Explanations and happy tears flowed, gluing the family back together.
