Masquerade

by zanya

I wasn't sure. Was that rapping at my chamber door?
In a lonely forest cabin where our writing group had decided to spend one last weekend before autumn chills returned, we were thanking our lucky stars. A whole weekend away from the cities where our lives usually panned out.
We, thirteen wannabe writers, supped and laughed and regretted our many literary failures and celebrated our successes. Until the church bell in the village, some distance away, chimed out the witching hour of midnight.
It happened, just as we retreated to our chambers for the night. 'Chambers' they called them since it had a medieval ambiance with coats of armor and swords of many hues, arranged at intervals throughout. All conducive to creativity and story -telling.
The rapping on my chamber door began as soon as I closed my door. Irritated at being disturbed at the end of a long day, I grabbed the door handle and prepared to have a word with however it was had chosen to disturb my longed- for end of day peace.
The door opened wide and as I peered into the soft light of the corridor I could see nothing or no one who was the likely culprit. Slamming the door I mumbled a few expletives and prepped for a good night's sleep.
Then it happened a second time. Rapping on my chamber door just like the first time. This time my heart started to pound. Grabbing the desk phone I connected with reception. Silence prevailed. No one was on duty after midnight. My longed -for rest and sleep were fading from view. Plumping up my pillows and sipping my green tea, I tried to pretend that everything was normal. I had taken note of the time span between the first two episodes. It was fifteen minutes. Soon it would be another fifteen minute interval. And then it happened on cue. Rapping on my chamber door. This time I froze, unable to react.
What should I do? Grab my belongings, get into my car and escape from here. How would I explain my act of cowardice to my fellow writers?
I sat frozen on the bed as the rapping continued. This time I noticed something. It lasted two minutes exactly as last time.
What was I missing in this drama? Was my mind overreacting after a day of creativity or was I under some spell out in the lonely woodland?
And then I noticed Colexa by the door where I had plugged her in for wake up a.m call with a loud rapping on the door.
Not even Colexa can get it right if the data isn't input correctly!
Is this simply a modern day tech failure story attempting to masquerade as a horror story? Who knows?

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