The Knock of Doom

The knock at my door had a sense of doom. I mean a really confusing, terror inducing, death like sense of Doom. It was loud and echoed as though through some sort of castle in a bad monster movie. At first I just sat there in the dark, having been woken up by the knocking. Another knock came, this time with a whisper “it’s your time.” The knock sounded even louder and I swore it was as though bone was hitting a wooden door. Turning on my flashlight only showed me the thin nylon door of my tent and a fog seeping through the tent door itself.

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