The Imposter Will Knock On Your Door

Linda sat on her worn out armchair with a cold cup of tea. She struggled to remember how long ago she bought this chair. She knew for a fact it was when her husband was still alive. She remembered vividly that her husband, George, complained about their kitten’s claw marks ruining the side of his chair. They had a matching set, yet, the kitten preferred to only attack his seat. But, her couch was always covered with a surprising amount of cat hair, despite never actually catching the kitten laying in her chair. Her memory fogged thinking about how her chair got to be in this rough state, when the springs started to bend, and the seams began to tear, but she refused to get a new one anyways. If she bought a new one, she was sure that’s when the grim reaper would come for her and she would die before getting to enjoy it.

Lighting flashed outside her window, briefly lighting up her living room. The storm had knocked out her power, leaving her in darkness for hours with no sign of it returning anytime soon. She wasn’t scared of the dark or the thunder, like she used to be when she was younger. She wasn’t sure when she had become so brave, but she thought it must have been because of George. In moments when the thunder shook the house, Linda felt so scared, but he would hold her gently and encourage her to tell stories of her past, even if he had heard them before, or lived through them with her. When she felt brave enough, she would tease George into telling his own stories, commenting something like, ‘I’m done hearing the sound of my own voice, it’s your turn.” He would smile and tell the story about how he fell in love with her. It was her favorite story. She wished she could hear it now.

A heavy knock on the door made her jump. Her heart pounded in her chest. She looked at her wrist watch, it was almost 11pm. The knocking persisted. It was obvious whoever was knocking, was not going to leave. She grabbed her cane from beside her chair and walked cautiously to the front door. There was no peep hole, so she’d have to open the door to find out what was going on. Her hand clutched the doorknob, hesitating to twist it. She took a deep breath and exhaled as she slowly turned the handle. She cracked the door open just enough for her to see who was standing at her door. It was a woman with long brown hair. Her head tilted downward, and the hood of her black raincoat covered most of her face. Her body was so thin, it seemed like she was just bone.

“Are you okay?” Linda asked, fully opening the door.

The woman lifted her head, and she looked eerily like Linda when she was in her twenties, except this woman’s skin stuck closely to her skull. She smiled softly. Linda gasped. Her front tooth was chipped exactly how her tooth was at that age.

“I must be dreaming. I– yeah, the tea… The tea put me to sleep,” Linda said, taking a step back.

“In three days, a man who looks and sounds like your husband will arrive at your doorstep. This man is not your husband. This man will want to kill you. Do not let him in. He cannot enter your house unless you allow it. If you choose to let him in, you will not be able to defend yourself and you will die,” The woman said. She slowly pulled out a newspaper article from her jacket pocket and handed it to Linda.

The headline read, ‘80 Year Old Woman Found Stabbed to Death in Her Home”. It was dated four days from now. Her heart pounded against her ribcage.

“No, I’m dreaming. This isn’t right,” Linda said, trying to hand the article back to her.

The woman refused to take it. She tilted her head back now.

“He will say anything to convince you to let him in. If you value your life, you will not listen to his deception,” The woman said.

“I- I need to wake up. You– You’re frightening me,” Linda said.

“You are in danger, whether you believe this to be real or not. Do not ignore what I’ve told you,” The woman said.

Linda shook her head and closed the door. Her throat suddenly felt so dry. She hurried, as best she could, to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. Water slipped from the corner of her lips and down her chin as she chugged the water.

The sound of the power turning on made her jump, causing her to drop her glass, shattering it into large shards on her kitchen floor. She smiled as a memory resurfaced, seeing the broken glass glistening in the light. The first date she had gone on with George, they went to a diner, and she was so nervous that she accidentally knocked over her milkshake. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he laughed, thinking she was cute. Together, they cleaned up the mess she created. When they scooped up the last bit of ice cream, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. She thought her face couldn’t get any redder until that kiss. This memory warmed her heart, and calmed her down. She cleaned up the glass and headed to bed.

***

The woman who appeared to her three days ago had been mostly pushed from Linda’s memory, but as the night set in, those memories returned. She didn’t know when her imposter would arrive, but she just needed to get through tonight. When he doesn’t show, she can put this creepy encounter behind her. She sat in her armchair with a glass of water by her side instead of her usual tea. The television was on, playing recorded episodes of Judge Judy. The defendant was mid sentence when the television shut off. There was a quick knock on the door. She looked at her watch, it was close to 11pm, just like when the woman showed up on her doorstep.

“Linda? Honey?” Her husband’s voice shouted from behind the door.

Linda clutched the chair, her heart skipping a beat. She convinced herself she was hearing things, so she took a deep breath and exhaled as she sat back in her chair.

“Linda? Are you going to let me in?” Her husband’s voice shouted, still behind the door.

She grabbed her cane and slowly made her way toward the door.

“Who are you?” Linda asked, leaning toward the door.

“You don’t recognize your husband’s voice?” He responded.

“Of course I recognize his voice… But you are not my husband,” Linda said.

“Open the door and tell me I’m not him,” He said.

“No,” Linda said, standing her ground.

“Are you scared of me?”

“I don’t know who you are.”

“Open the door, Linda, please. I can hold you in my arms until you feel safe again.”

Linda gently placed her hand on the doorknob and thought about twisting it. Warm memories and feelings of him holding her, flooded her mind. Some moments and specific details were too fuzzy to picture, but her feelings remained untouched by the years spent apart. If she opened the door, she was sure those memories would come in clearer. Seeing him alive again was a wish she dreamed of countless nights after, but her husband was dead and death is the only finality in life. She took her hand off the doorknob.

“I think it’s time for you to go,” Linda said, as tears blurred her vision.

He slammed his fists on the door. Linda backed away from the door. He slammed his fists on the door again, but this time the lights flickered. She backed up further.

“Linda! Are you scared?” He asked, momentarily breaking his good guy character.

“Go away!” She responded. Her hands were shaking.

He pounded furiously on the door. The lights flickered with every pound.

“Linda! Let me help you,” He said, sounding desperate.

“No,” Linda said, trying to keep her nerves down.

There was a long silence, making her believe that he had gone. She sat down in her chair and stared out the window. Her heart continued to race in her chest. She couldn’t break her stare, she was scared to move. It was too dark to see anything, but she had a feeling deep in her stomach that the danger wasn’t over. She had to close the blinds. If she didn’t see the danger, then she could ignore it better. Putting her weight into her cane, she lifted herself up. Her knees were already aching as she walked the short distance to the window. She grabbed the silk curtains, but before she could close them, he appeared in the window.

She screamed louder than she thought she was capable of. Her hands covered her eyes, protecting herself from seeing the ghost of her husband. He tapped his finger on the glass, a wide smile plastered on his face.

“Linda, why won’t you look at me?” He asked, a hint of sadness in his tone.

She shook her head, keeping her eyes covered.

“You’re not real. None of this is real. It– it can’t be,” Linda said.

“Just look at me! You’ll see I’m your Georgie, and then you could let me in,” He said, losing patience.

She slowly uncovered her eyes. He looked exactly like he did when he was in his twenties. There was a fresh scratch on his cheek, bringing the memories back to when she accidentally scratched him with her wedding ring.

“See? It’s me, Linda,” He said, placing his hand on the window.

“How? How is that possible?” Linda questioned.

“Let me in and I’ll explain everything,” He responded.

Tears fell down, filling in her wrinkles and dripping down her face. She desperately wanted this to be true, but she knew it was wrong. Her husband died years ago, and she had grieved him every day since. Time led to acceptance, but this imposter ripped open her wounds before they fully healed. It was like she was saying goodbye all over again.

“My husband is dead,” She responded, closing the curtains on him.

There was silence once again. This time, it felt more final. The television flickered back on, continuing from where it left off. She looked at the time, it was midnight. Technically, the next day. She double checked with the newspaper article, just in case. Now, the article was describing a forest fire. The tension released from her body. She finally let go of the weight that was pressing on her chest. She felt like she could breathe again.

In her bedroom closet sat an old CD player collecting dust. She had bought it for George shortly before he passed away. He loved listening to Jim Croce, she didn’t, but she had gotten him the You Don’t Mess Around With Jim album anyways. She took that CD player out of the closet and plugged it in. She dusted off the top with her hand. When she opened the player, the CD was still inside. Smiling, she closed it and hit play. Memories of George dancing around to the first song filled her vision, something he was afraid to do in front of anyone else. She laughed, thinking he was cute.