The Tapper

Hi, my name is… Well, I can’t remember. I was recently hospitalized for insanity, but I swear I’m not crazy! It started with my colleague, Tom. He sent that, that thing after me! I will never forget the tapping. It sends chills down my spine thinking about it.

It was just a normal day at work, and suddenly Tom was screeching, he was saying “Stop it!” And such. Then he just froze, quietly told whoever was tapping to confess. When nobody did he grabbed a pair of scissors from his desk and went around threatening whoever it was to step up or he would kill someone. A girl at the office phoned the police and taken him to an asylum.

The next day everyone continued on with their lives. Tom and I were good buddy’s, so I’d try to visit him whenever I could, told him everything would be fine. When I went there again, they said he’d just stopped breathing. He was dead. I continued on, knowing he was a nut job helped me cope with his suicide, but I had gotten in a pattern of visiting him and would show up at the asylum every once in a while, forgetting he wasn’t there.

I remember being on my way to the asylum. I was at a red light when I heard faint tapping. It sounded like a finger against another finger. I passed this off as nothing then the word dead was in my head. Tom was dead. What was I doing? He wasn’t at the hospital anymore. I turned around and headed home, the tapping continued.

After a few hours, the tapping had become so loud, it was driving me crazy. I thought, “maybe it’s just a headache and will pass soon.” But it didn’t. The tapping become so unbearable that I couldn’t focus on anything, I remember screaming for it to stop. It did. For a second. And another.

It’s over. I smiled and realized where I was. In my neighbor’s house while they  laid there, not breathing or moving. How had this happened? I reached for the phone, ready to call the police, until I realized who they would suspect. I felt something tugging at the corner of my lips, and an idea popped into my head. I’ll burn then. I’ll turn on the oven and keep it there till they burn then there will be no evidence.

I did turn on the oven.

tap. tap. tap.

It was back, and I was home. Waiting for the sirens to start blaring down the street. I started smelling the satisfying smell of campfire and decided that I should do something to keep my mind off it. I heard the sirens and people yelling and I sat there. I remember seeing me in the mirror, except, I wasn’t alone. A tall, twisted creature stood behind me, tapping on his head. He hissed something and I laughed.

The police walked into my house as I laid in the bathroom, laughing and holding a knife I used to murder- no, I didn’t kill anyone. I was holding the knife the Tapper had used to kill my neighbors. It was bloodied and smelled of iron. I asked the police what it would taste like as they took it from me and cuffed me.

I’ve been in solitude for 3 days now and the tapping hasn’t come back yet.

But I know he’s here. He always is.