09/04/2026
The Knock at Window Three
In a quiet village outside town stood an old boarding school that had been abandoned for years after a fire destroyed one wing. Everyone said the place was haunted, but most thought it was just a story adults told to keep children away.
One rainy Friday night, four friends—Amina, Brian, Kevin, and Rose—decided to prove the rumors wrong.
They climbed through a broken gate and entered the school carrying only flashlights and bravado.
The halls smelled of wet wood and dust. Their footsteps echoed too loudly.
“See?” Brian laughed. “No ghosts.”
Then they heard it.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
From upstairs.
Rose froze. “Did you hear that?”
Kevin tried to joke. “Probably just the wind.”
But the knocking came again.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Slow. Deliberate.
They followed the sound up the burned staircase until they reached the old dormitory hallway. Every door hung open except one at the end.
Above it, faded paint read:
ROOM 3
The knocking was coming from inside.
No one wanted to move.
Finally Amina pushed the door open.
The room was empty.
Just broken beds, peeling walls… and one window.
Then—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
They all screamed.
The sound came from the window.
Something was tapping from outside.
But Room 3 was on the third floor.
No balcony. No ledge. Nothing outside but empty air and rain.
Brian stepped closer, flashlight shaking.
Pressed against the glass was a pale face.
Its eyes were black.
Its mouth stretched too wide.
And it smiled.
The window exploded inward.
The thing lunged—
The friends ran, screaming through the halls, down the stairs, stumbling over debris. Behind them they heard wet footsteps slapping the floor.
Kevin looked back once.
He saw it crawling on the ceiling.
They burst outside and didn’t stop running until they reached the road.
All four swore never to return.
But the next morning, Kevin was missing.
Police searched everywhere.
No sign of him.
Only his flashlight was found in Room 3.
Still on.
Still pointed at the window.
And on the dusty wall beside it, someone had written in fresh wet letters:
THREE KNOCKS MEANS LET ME IN