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I just returned from my brother's funeral. He has been missing for over seven weeks, and the police have given up the search. He has been pronounced dead officially by the state. I know that I am jumping right into the story, and that none of this makes sense, so let me back up and give you more information.
In the past few months before my brother's disappearance, several people mysteriously disappeared. There was a local urban legend about a killer named the Knocking Man, and many die hard believers insisted that it was him who was committing these kidnappings. Legend goes that the Knocking Man stalks his victims for days before they disappear, and then finally knocks three times on there bedroom door before entering and stealing the people. Possibly coincidentally, all of the recent kidnapping victims were stolen out of their bedrooms.
My brother, an aspiring film maker, was very interested in these disappearances and their connection to the Knocking Man legend. He began gathering research on the case, and before too long his personality began to change. He began acting paranoid and even told me that the knocking man was following him.
The day before he disappeared, he called me and told me that he had just uncovered the secret of the Knocking Man, but that he would not be alive for much longer. He told me that, if he was to disappear, that I should go to his house and search for an oak box. I am on my way right now.
I arrived at my brother's house about a half hour ago, and instantly began searching for this oak box. After almost giving up the search, I accidentally knocked over a newspaper and revealed the oak box that he mentioned. I instantly pried open the box and peered inside, and to my horror I found hundreds of newspaper clippings, notes, and letters that he kept. I read through all of clippings and notes, and found little of interest. However, at the very bottom of the box sat a hastily written note with only two words on it: Richard Malice.
After scrounging through the box for a few more minutes, looking for anything else that I could find, I noticed a small gap between the interior of the box and the exterior. I quickly pulled open the secret compartment and extracted the papers inside. The first was a newspaper clipping from several years ago. I looked over the paper before folding it up and putting it in my jacket pocket.
The second paper in the box was a note left behind by my brother. I, again, folded the paper up and put it in my pocket. The final piece of paper was a map of the city. I quickly folded up the map and put it in my pocket. Almost instantly afterwards, the room temperature dropped several degrees. Every hair on my body stood straight up, and a shiver ran down my spine. Across the room, at the front door, three loud knocks echoed out.