Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. Can it be? It can’t be. (Click title for first part, Trapped…?)
I release the hook to the trap door and let it slam hard on the fingers of the person who’d been knocking below my feet on the secret door.
“Ow!” the deep voice growled. “Karen, open the door!” Continue reading
For days I’d heard the soft knocking that I couldn’t place. Had Rocky returned? Last year I named the large woodpecker that pecked on my living room window, “Rocky.” I finally googled what to do about birds who nearly kill themselves knocking on windows, and I closed the curtain for two months until the light changed the reflection. I haven’t seen Rocky since.
But still. Knock Knock. Knock. A light tapping.