Think you know how stories end? Think again. The stories are written to keep you guessing until the very last moment, each one with a twist you won’t see coming.
The Story:
When I was 8 or 9, I started hearing knocking in my room at night. It would go on for hours until I fell asleep. This happened for weeks, mostly in the summer.
I was a stubborn kid who didn’t believe in ghosts or magic. After about three weeks of knocking, I whispered, “If you need help crossing over or something, that’s fine. Just let me sleep.” I didn’t tell anyone because I knew there had to be a logical reason. Maybe it was a raccoon or just the house. The knocking got less frequent, and eventually, it stopped.
A few years later, when I was 12, I started having anxiety that just wouldn’t go away. I went through a lot of tests. There wasn’t a raccoon, a noisy house, or a creepy person—it turned out I had schizophrenia.
