Knocks On My Door (Please read & comment :'( )

I never really understood or perfected the unique, yet super creepy gift I have in my possession. People may tell me I’m insane, but I know without a doubt that what I have, and what I am, is truly something special. Some may call it profane, most would tell me that I’m pulling their legs, joking, but if this were a joke, I’d be laughing as I tell it; which I am not.
For years, I’ve questioned if it was real, that it was really happening – to me. Many nights I stayed awake, thinking if I should tell anyone about what I witnessed, and also worrying about if they’d believe me if I do possess the courage to share it with the crowd. So many questions still orbit throughout my mind, and very few so far have been completely answered.
Even if what I witness has happened to people other than myself, I still fear the possible results and reactions prior to its reveal. I can’t magically make my “weirdness” go away like Houdini, and if I could, I’d probably already have done it by now. But even if people understand what I go through, would they want to spend time with me anymore, or will the doubters throw me in a mental rehabilitation center?
The only thing I can do is just hope that doesn’t happen to me and that perhaps telling the stories of what I witness will bridge the gap between those who doubt and those who speak the truth, though haven’t had time to explain it yet. If people don’t believe my stories when I tell them aloud, then maybe, just maybe, they’ll believe me when I tell them in text.
Now, to begin, I’d like to tell you a bit about my family. My only brother, who is now 30 years of age, he shares the same gifts as I do, but on a more massive scale; he has gifts that I don’t, which makes him the expert in the medium-world. He can do anything from sending a ghost to someone’s house to making them cross-over. And the first encounter I had, I couldn’t see them yet, but I could hear them.
If I’m correct, I’d say it was somewhere around 8 o’clock in the afternoon of a Friday. I assume it was mid-spring, because most of the windows were open.
My aunt and uncle on my father’s side came over and had started a game of cards with my parents, the four of them sitting at the kitchen table. As I watched them play and tried to predict who’d win this round, I heard this very faint, very mysterious sound that came from inside the house. I couldn’t really make out what it sounded like, but with my 9-year-old ears listening, I concluded that it almost sounded like a cat meowing repeatedly – in the living room, but this sent a shiver down my spine, for at that time, we owned no cat – so why am I hearing a cat meowing?
At first, I thought it was coming from outside, so I looked out every open window in the downstairs portion of the house. Every 10-second peek resulted the same way – I didn’t see any cat outside. As I tried telling my parents about it, my uncle shooed me away, telling me not to interrupt his “concentration”, as he calls it. Just when I’m about to give up on finding the source of the sounds, my brother came down the stairs for a cigarette break.
When my brother came back into the house, I asked him about the sounds I was hearing, and what he answered made me feel so uneasy that the butterflies in my stomach turned into bats: it was a ghost crying. I shook my head, not believing him; he hadn’t told me about his gifts yet, probably because I was too young to understand it. At the sight of my reaction, he put his left hand on my right shoulder, stared me in the eyes, crouched down, and he tried explaining his gifts to me.
It seemed like an hour and a half of explanations, I finally understood what he meant. But it still left me wondering why I could hear it as well, but less acute than him. So I asked him about it, he rudely yawned, said he was going to bed, and I stood there, rolling my eyes as he continued up the stairs. I never did ask them about it again, simply because I didn’t want his explanation that was more like a college lecture again.
Well, years passed since that night, and I just kept telling myself that I wasn’t all there that night, I was half-asleep, and that I wasn’t going crazy. But a few months after my 13th birthday, when I wasn’t really getting along with my mom, my conscience changed from “I’m okay, there’s nothing weird going on” to “I just peed my pants”. After an argument with my mom, I had made a poster stating the words “Knock before entering”, and taped it to the exterior of my bedroom door.
For once, I was living the land of luxury, skipping along a sidewalk in dreamland, and then I was woken up by four or five knocks on my door (I kind of had my head under the covers, so I may had not heard one). And then, the doorknob started turning. The hall light wasn’t on, but I was positively sure it was just my mom coming to check to see if I were sleeping. So I did my newly-mastered fake-sleeping impression, but became confused as the door didn’t open. I started freaking out before I changed into my detective sense and quietly crawled out of bed, opened a cupboard drawer, took out a flashlight, and slowly exited my room.
As I silently crept to my parents’ room, I quickly peeked in, flashing the flashlight on the head side of the bed, and yet another shiver went down my spine as I reached a stunning conclusion; both my mom and dad were fast asleep. I turned off my flashlight, went down the hall, felt my way to the light switch, and turned the hall light on. I glanced at my bedroom door, scratching my head as I tried to debunk what happened, but I couldn’t debunk it. Air flow couldn’t cause knocks on my door, nor could it turn a doorknob.
I was stumped; I really had no idea how a thing like that could happen without logical explanation. Then my past memory answered it for me, maybe a ghost read the words on my poster, and followed them. But where was the ghost now? Was it in my room? Was it standing right behind me? Was it friendly? Was it evil? I couldn’t determine answers to any of those questions I had floating in my mind.
I finally gave up on my detective work and went back to bed; surprisingly, I slept like a log. The next morning, I took the poster down, ripped it into ten pieces, and put it in the recycle. Since then, I haven’t heard another knock on my door without the hall light on or in the middle of the night.

You post interesting things to read in this section.

I do?

Yeah I found it worth a read

Well, thanks *blushes*

You're welcome, I recently finished the first chapter or so of a book I'm trying to write, and I'm wondering if I should post it

Awwww, do it, I'd love to read it!

OK it's kind of a dark fantasy thing though

I like fantasy stories that include supernatural creatures. I was thinking of posting one about a werewolf who's cursed so that she can't appear all human

This one has demons I already posted some of it