Ketukan Tiga Kali / Three Knocks

🇮🇩 Bahasa Indonesia

Ibuku selalu bilang, jangan pernah balas ketukan di pintu jika bunyinya tiga kali. Dua kali itu manusia. Tiga kali, bukan.

Malam itu aku sendirian di rumah. Hujan deras. Listrik mati sejak pukul sembilan. Aku sudah hampir tertidur ketika suara itu datang.

Tok. Tok. Tok.

Aku terdiam. Jantungku berhenti sedetik. Mungkin angin, pikirku. Mungkin kucing tetangga. Aku tarik selimut lebih tinggi dan memejamkan mata.

Tok. Tok. Tok.

Kali ini lebih keras. Lebih sabar. Seperti sesuatu yang tahu aku ada di dalam dan hanya menunggu kesabaranku habis.

Aku tidak bergerak. Tidak bernafas. Lima menit berlalu. Sepuluh menit. Sunyi.

Pagi harinya, aku cerita ke ibu. Wajahnya pucat. Ia pegang tanganku erat-erat dan berkata pelan, “Syukurlah kamu tidak membuka pintu itu.”

“Kenapa, Bu?”

Ia menatapku lama. “Karena kalau kamu buka, yang masuk bukan yang mengetuk.”

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🇬🇧 English

My mother always told me: never answer the door if it knocks three times. Two knocks means a person. Three knocks means something else.

That night I was alone. Heavy rain. The power had been out since nine. I was almost asleep when the sound came.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I froze. My heart stopped for a second. Maybe the wind, I told myself. Maybe a stray cat. I pulled the blanket higher and shut my eyes.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Louder this time. More patient. Like something that knew I was inside and was simply waiting for my nerve to break.

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Five minutes passed. Ten. Then silence.

In the morning I told my mother. Her face went pale. She grabbed my hand and said quietly, “Thank God you didn’t open that door.”

“Why, Mum?”

She looked at me for a long time. “Because whatever comes in, it wouldn’t be the thing that knocked.”