The Unbeckoned Visitant

I woke on a caliginous, dreary foremorn, or so I postulated, for no time pieces were in my view. I looked around for my pocket watch, which I never let far from my side. I found it upon the floor and looked at the time. It was two thirteen before midday. I had not woken from my slumber for no apparent reason, for that is unreasonable. A noise had caused my dreadful, unexpected awakening. This sonance, when repeated, was stentoriphic and near-about causing me to barrel off of the armchair where I had been sleeping, for reasons I will not gall you with. The initial thought in my gazed ponder was that I falsely imagined the frightful sonance, but within the moments it took for me to rise the awful noise repeated once more. What was at the threshold of my dwelling? Every few moments, which began to feel like an eternity, the crack and slam of bone and wood would pertrude the very fabric of my soul. In my dismayed state of trepidation all I could conjure was "who is there" but in my efforts all I could manage was a pitiful "who...who is...there?" At the echo of the last syllable of my speech, an ear splitting, vigorous rap broke the near silence of my weak vocalization. Horror was clearly glazed upon my face. I was petrified in fear, causing my body to freeze in place, while my mind panicked. After seemingly a century of bursts of boisterous knocking I reiterated more sternly, but in apparent fear, "who is there!" with no response, other than the ever so greatly amplifying taps and raps on the door. What was this sinister entity? And why was it at my door? I managed to stumble to the window to attempt to get a glimpse at what was at my door, but to my dismay there was nothing there to be seen. Do I still run in terror and hide like a fool or do the preposterous and open the door. As the next session of insidious knocking began, I built up the courage, or more so the impatience to just get it over with, to do the preposterous...open my door. My mind racing with rumination of what might succeed the opening of the door, I extended my hand and grasped the door handle. Terror was building inside me overwhelming all common sense still bestowed in my being. For this reason I closed my eyes, not because I wanted to but because I could not fight the urge to hide my sight from the thing I feared before me. My hand was plastered tightly on the handle and I twisted, slowly unlatching the door from where it had previously stood. And then... nothing. Nothing happened. I could no longer feel the door in my palm but knew I had not moved my arm. Fearfully, I slowly opened my eyes and to my wonderment, I was back in my arm chair where I had been proceeding this entire event. It was a dream. I let out a deep sigh of relief and smirked at the stupidity of my own mind. I looked around and found my pocket watch that had fallen to the ground in my deep slumber. The time was two thirteen before midday. I thought it just a coincidence so I closed my eyes and was going to try to sleep once more but only moments after shutting my eyes a terrifying knock came from my door, had I not been dreaming? This time, much quicker than before, I overcame the fear of the unknown, mostly due to my irritation of repetition, and raced clumsily to the door. I swung it wide open, keeping my eyes glued wide open as I could, but, to my confusion, nothing was there but the ever darkness of night. I stood there, for what seemed ages, starring into the vast darkness of this night, waiting for a terrible entity to show itself. Nothing showed. I turn, much to quickly, back into my home but stumble. Just as I was about to hit the wooden flooring of my home I jolted awake. Panting hard from my abrupt waking, I tore through my pockets and the cushions of my armchair trying to find my pocket watch. I caught a glimpse of it in the corner of my eye, it was on the floor strangely in the identical place as my dream. I picked it up and looked at the time. It was two thirteen.