THE KNOCK AT 2:17

At exactly 2:17 a.m., the knock came.Three times.Not loud. Not soft. Just… precise.Tunde’s eyes snapped open.He didn’t move at first. His room was silent except for the tired hum of his ceiling fan and his own heartbeat suddenly too loud, too fast.Knock. Knock. Knock.Again.He reached for his phone. 2:17 a.m.No one visits at that time. No one sane, at least.He sat up slowly, staring at the door across the room. His throat felt dry.“Who’s there?” he called.Silence.ThenA whisper.“…Tunde.”His blood ran cold.That voice… it sounded like him.He stood up, every step toward the door heavier than the last. His apartment was on the third floor. No balcony. No open windows. No way someone could just… appear.Yet the knock came again.Knock. Knock. Knock.Same rhythm. Same patience.He grabbed a kitchen knife from the table. Not because he was brave but because fear demanded something to hold.“Who is it?” he asked again, louder this time.The whisper returned, closer now.“…open the door.”Tunde’s fingers trembled over the lock.Something wasn’t right.Something was very wrong.He looked through the peephole.Nothing.Just the dim hallway light flickering like it was tired of staying alive.But thenThe light stopped flickering.And for a split second…He saw himself.Standing outside.Smiling.Tunde stumbled back, nearly dropping the knife.“No… no, that’s not possible…”Knock. Knock. Knock.More urgent now.“…you’ve kept me waiting too long.”The voice wasn’t whispering anymore.It was… irritated.Tunde’s mind raced.This had to be a dream.Or madness.OrHis eyes darted to the old mirror hanging beside his wardrobe.It was cracked slightly at the edge. He’d always meant to replace it but never did.Now, he saw his reflection.But something was off.His reflection… wasn’t copying him.It was smiling.Tunde froze.His reflection leaned closer to the mirror from inside.“…you weren’t supposed to look.”The knocking stopped.Complete silence filled the room.ThenA sound from behind him.Click.The door unlocked itself.Slowly… painfully slowly… the door creaked open.Tunde couldn’t turn around.He couldn’t breathe.He could only listen…As footsteps entered the room.One step.Two steps.Three.Then a voice, right behind his ear“You took my life the moment you ignored the first knock.”Tunde’s reflection disappeared.And in the mirror now stood only one person.The one who had just entered.The next morning, the neighbors complained about a door left open all night.No sign of struggle.No blood.No Tunde.Just a mirror…Now completely whole.But if you pass that apartment at exactly 2:17 a.m.You might hear it.Knock. Knock. Knock.Waiting for someone else…To answer.

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