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The Window



Estimated reading time — 2 minutes

I was in my bedroom, doing the typical at-home teenager thing: staying up late, digging around the depths of the internet, and generally not paying attention to anything other than what was on my monitor. It was the early morning, around 2 o’clock, and everyone in my house was asleep but me. The room was nice and warm despite it being the dead of winter, since we had the windows replaced last week. We had been losing heat, especially in my bedroom, through some old storm windows, but the bitter cold was now kept outside.

I don’t remember what I was doing; I think in the terror that consumed me I must have forgotten. I heard a noise at my window. Not the sound of a bug flying into it, or the shrubs brushing against it. No, this was an odd noise, a thumping sound, something I had never heard before. I didn’t think anything of it initially. Whether that was because I genuinely believed it was nothing or because I didn’t want to find out what it was, I can’t say, but I sat there for a moment and just listened to it. It was distinctly rhythmic. Thump, thump, thump. It only lasted fifteen seconds or so, and then stopped. I shuddered, but shrugged it off and, after spending another hour or two browsing and consciously not looking toward the window, turned my computer off and fell into an uneasy but uneventful sleep.

This morning, after the sun had been up for a few hours and the things that go bump in the night were doing whatever they do during the daylight hours, I walked to my window and spent a few minutes trying to replicate the sound I had heard. I tapped the window, bumped it with some soft objects, even locked and unlocked it, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what had made the sound. Nothing I did was even close. I figured that the event had been a fluke, and the day was normal until this evening.

My dad arrived home from work at the usual time and decided that the house was too stuffy, so he came into my room and went to open the window (we’re in Texas, so winter evenings are sometimes very comfortable, as was the case today). Never in my life before that moment have I genuinely wished to be deaf.

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My dad forgot to unlock the window before trying to open it, and when he pulled up, it produced the same noise I heard last night.

My window only has handles on the inside.

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Credit To – Josh H

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34 thoughts on “The Window”

  1. Really good, the only part I don’t understand, is that the narrator said they tried everything they could to replicate the sound, and couldn’t figure it out. But, then the dad comes in and easily finds the sound. ?

  2. dontdelivermefromevil

    I really liked it ignore the people saying it didn’t have enough sensory details. It’s better short and creepy, which you accomplished. Bravo!

  3. This story is eerily similar to, A knock at The Window. While I think that one is better

    written, I like this too. There was subtlety and comfortable storytelling. I know a lot

    of CP readers prefer the stories hardcore frightening, but to me the calm setting

    kind of evens it out, and makes the twists all the more terrifying. Great, but by my

    terms. It had good writing, but wasn’t special. But for me the cozy non-dramatic

    story telling made it memorable, and the twist is still intriguing. 7/10

  4. i really liked this, mainly because i can relate to it (in some ways). im always up on my laptop from 1-6am, and when i am, someone could most definitely be walking in my room and i would have no idea. im so attached to the screen that the whole world seems to literally disappear around me.
    also, i really liked the ‘things that go bump in the night’ line.

  5. Whoa….. It took me a couple of seconds to realize that (I know, fail, whatever) and when I did I just thought “WTF.” Seriously though this writer is awesome!

    1. So, our storyteller hears a strange noise at the window but willfully ignores it. In the morning, he investigates possibilities for the noise and goes through standard makes-noise-in-a-horror-story possibilities (tapping, clawing, etc.), and discovers that the sound can only be replicated by the action of opening the window. The chill comes when we learn the window can only be opened from inside the house.

      The implication is that *something* was inside the storyteller’s bedroom, behind him by a matter of a few feet, slowly opening the window.

      1. I think the author was saying someone or something was trying to get into the room because his dad forgot to unlock it and when his dad pulled the door up it was the sound

  6. I’m not sure if this was exactly creepy to be honest. If I noticed some kind of abhorrent creature in my bedroom trying to escape through one of the windows frankly I’d help him.

  7. I disagree with the previous comments. Leaving out information like that gives the readers something to think about. I’ll rate this story 10/10.

    1. There’s a fine line between the nebulous fear of the unknown and people getting the giggles. Readers are picturing a sad little boogeyman sneaking out through the window while the author is distracted on the internet. Details could have prevented that.

        1. It can’t be a thief though. The author made the point to say the sound can only be replicated from the inside of the window. That would mean the thief would have had to of snuck in to the room, attempted to open the window AND snuck back out of the room all without the storyteller knowing. I do really wish this was a lot longer than a micro pasta though cause I would really love some details.

  8. This was good. I especially liked this line:
    „This morning, after the sun had been up for a few hours and the things that go bump in the night were doing whatever they do during the daylight hours”
    If i had to rate it i’d probably rate it 8/10 because I feel like you left a little too much unanswered such as: Who is up at 2 o’ clock in the morning browsing the internet, What is the meaning of life… And. Oh, yes, who was in her room?

    1. The cliffhanger of what/who was in her room was the beauty of the story. The meaning of life is 42. I’m up at 2 o’clock to watch some good good

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