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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/NoCardiologist1353 on 2026-05-27 00:43:33+00:00.

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Don’t ever knock on my front door.

Don’t even try it.

If you’re a salesman, keep stepping. If you’re a Girl Scout, move on to the next house. We don’t care if you see us through the window or hear us behind the door. We will never open it. We don’t know who we can trust anymore. All we know is that whatever is outside can’t enter unless we let it.

It all started about a week ago, when I was home alone. My wife and two boys were spending the week at her mother’s place in Phoenix while I begrudgingly stayed behind so my boss wouldn’t think of my name when our company’s downsizing inevitably reached our branch.

In my heart, I longed to be soaking up the sun with my family, but reality found me sacrificing my vacation days in hopes of keeping my job. 5 o clock came and put an end to Monday, and I didn’t linger around the office for a second. On my way home I stopped by my favorite Chinese takeout. If I couldn’t enjoy the company of my family, I could at least enjoy the company of General Tso. Pulling my car into the garage, I quickly changed into sweatpants and a plain T shirt, slipped on my slippers, and settled into my favorite La-Z-Boy recliner. As I flipped on the TV, and opened my takeout, I sighed away the days stress and prepared to relax.

It had barely been 15 minutes before my peace was interrupted by the loud sound of the doorbell. I rolled my eyes, and muttered to myself

“Great, just great.”

When I opened the door, I was met by one of the strangest sights I had ever seen. Before me on the threshold of my home, was a salesman. Not a salesman you might see wandering around modern neighborhoods, dressed in bright polos, khaki shorts, trying to sell you solar panels or a new roof. No, the salesmen before me looked like he had stepped out of the 1960s. He wore black perfectly polished formal dress shoes, a light gray three-piece tweed suit, and a matching gray fedora. The man himself was the picture perfect 1960s man. He was tall and thin, his brown hair was skillfully cut and styled, his face cleanly shaved, and his teeth were perfectly straight and dazzlingly white. In one hand he held a brown leather briefcase, and at his side was very old hoover vacuum.

As our eyes met, he smiled, removed his fedora and in the quick, yet soothing voice of an old-fashion baseball announcer he said

“Good evening, sir, always a pleasure to see a fellow citizen, I’m here on behalf of the Hoover company. If I could, I’d like to come inside at take a moment to demonstrate to you the marvels of the modern home vacuum.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle a little

“Wow” I said, “that’s some getup, I feel sorry for you having to wear that in this heat, is Hoover celebrating an anniversary or something?”

The salesmen didn’t drop the act

“No Sir, nothing special, just the regular Hoover treatment, may I come in?”

I squinted my eyes slightly

“Um, no”

At this his smile dropped, he stared blanky for a moment before saying

“You won’t let me in?”

“No” I said again

“Why not?” he asked in a quieter voice

“Look man, this is my house and I don’t need a reason to not let you in”

He stared blankly at me again before whispering

“Please?”

A could feel my temper getting the best of me

“No! now get lost!”

With that I slammed the door in his face and backed up into the entryway. But through the fogged glass of the front door, I could still see his silhouette just standing there on the porch. I held my breath and stared, hoping he would leave. After about three minutes he hadn’t moved, and I lost my temper. I swung the door open and yelled into his wide smile.

“Get off my porch right now, or I’m call the cops!”

He stared, his smile only seemed to widen, after half a minute he walked backwards off the porch. His eyes never left mine, nor did his smile lower until he reached the sidewalk. At that point he turned and walked off. I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable, so I locked the front door as I returned to the recliner. I finished my dinner, enjoyed a few hours of TV shows, and headed off to bed.

At 1 AM the silence of the house was shattered by the doorbell. I don’t know how long it had been ringing before it woke me. Barely awake I stumbled out of bed and into the hallway, praying that this was a dream. As I approached the front door a bright light sent a long shadow of a man into my house. Opening the door, the light was blinding, and it took a moment for my sleepy eyes to adjust. As they did, the figure before me spoke in a loud, authoritative voice

“Sir, I’m with the police, we received a complaint from this address earlier today. May I come in and discuss the details?”

My mind was barely keeping up, and in confusion I replied

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

“Just following up on the call we received, may I come in and take your statement?”

My confused mind began to catch up

“I never called the police today; I know for a fact that no one else here did either.”

The figure was silent for a moment before saying

“All the same sir, if I could come in, we could clear this all up.”

It was at this point that I noticed the man’s uniform. It was old. The type of uniform worn back in the 80s. in fact the man’s entire appearance was like something out of a police TV show, the worn dark aviator sunglasses and his face was home to a thick handlebar mustache.

I looked at him and asked

“What’s your badge number?”

He didn’t reply

“Do you have a warrant?”

“No” came the simple answer

“Then you can’t come in”

“If I had one, would you let me in?”

I didn’t answer, just slammed and locked the door.

The man banged his fist on the door for about fifteen minutes before giving up and leaving. And after calming down for about an hour I finally fell back asleep.

When morning came, I found it easy to convince myself that last night’s interaction was nothing but an odd dream. I blamed it on the cheap Chinese food, but after a short shower and simple breakfast I soon forgot about the event.

Work was nothing special, just the daily grind of an underpaid accountant for a shrinking company. I missed my family and wished more than anything that I had gone with them. 5 o clock came and I didn’t linger, soon I was trapped in the prison of rush hour. It was 6:30 by the time I pulled into my quiet neighborhood. And as I reached my house, I noticed a figure standing on the front porch. It was a man, he was dressed in a light gray jumpsuit, similar to the ones a janitor or plumber might wear in a movie. He stood facing the door, one hand was raised and limply yet constantly knocked on the door.

“No way,” I said in disbelief, as I passed the front of the house to the garage on the side of the house. As I passed by the man noticed, and his head slowly turned to me and followed me as I disappeared around the corner. The last thing I saw before the car went behind the house was the man leaving the porch and walking over towards the garage.

“Not again” I muttered aloud.

By the time I parked and exited the car he was already there, standing just outside the open garage door, as if an invisible wall stopped him from coming any closer.

“Hello!” he said in a cheerful voice “we received a call earlier about a busted pipe, and no one has answered the door, may I come in and take a look?”

I stared at him as he spoke, and not once did I see him blink. A wide smile crossed his face as he finished, as if it was his default expression.

“No, no one called you, no one has even been here all day. So get out of here!” I said, somewhat annoyed

The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, and through the gritted teeth of his smile he said

“So you’re here alone?”

I swallowed and replied harshly “that’s none of your business, now leave”

At that as if a switch was flipped, he returned to the expression and movements of a charismatic tradesman.

“Really, sir I must insist, just let me come in and take a look, dealing with a flooded basement isn’t a relaxing way to spend the evening.”

“No, I must insist that you leave right now. And don’t ever come back!”

His unblinking eyes narrowed at that, the unreal smile returned as he backed away, as he reached the end of my driveway, I heard him quietly say

“See you later.”

With a loud sigh I closed the garage door and headed upstairs to change out of my work clothes and shower.

I had hoped to grill that night for dinner, I had set out some steaks to defrost when I left for work that morning, but shortly after I got out of the shower it began to rain. Not wanting to give up on my dreams of a good steak, I decided to just leave the grill in the garage, pull out one of the cars and leave the garage open to let the smoke out. The smell of the cooking meat mixed with the cool earthy smell of the rain calmed my nerves and momentarily made me forget about both work and the strange solicitors.

Just as the steaks finished cooking, the storm outside became noticeably stronger. I soon noticed a figure running in the heavy rain. It took me a second to realize that they were running right towards my garage. It appeared to be a young girl, no older than 12 years old, she ran as fast as she could, but when she reached the threshold of the garage she stopped instantly. I glared cautiously at her, even i...

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