Southend U3A

June 2024

Tap, Tap, Tap - Jan Norman

Standing with an effort Frank shuffled towards his computer desk, his cane tap, tap, tapping on the bare floorboards. Parking his walking stick and pulling out his well cushioned chair he settled down. Powering up his now one and only friend and companion he leaned back to await the appearance of his treasured screen saver: a screen saver that his son, Tom, a computer buff, had made for him in memory of his beloved and much missed wife Nora who had passed away six months ago.

The screen flared brightly and there she was, framed in the church doorway, resplendent in white lace and carrying a bouquet of blood red roses.

Repetitiously he ran his forefinger over her image, as he always did, tapping lightly as he did so, as if this very act could break the screen and release his beloved wife back into this room and his life. Sighing in frustration Frank dropped his hand onto the keyboard and was about to open a file when a quiet tap, tap, tap stopped him in his tracks. There it was again, tap, tap, tap, like a finger tapping on glass: his computer screen glass. Heart thudding, he froze and listened more intently. Again tap, tap, tap, or more correctly a tink, tink, tink as a tapping fingernail on glass would sound. Cocking his ear towards the monitor he verified, yes it definitely was coming from inside his computer screen. Then a female voice. ‘Help me.’ Nora’s voice? that followed startled him and made him sit back in his seat, heart nearly at a standstill.

Again, tap, tap, tap, ‘help me.’ emanated from the screen. Frank, by now, totally thrown by this assault on his precarious hold on reality acted on instinct and in an effort to stop the imploring voice yanked the computer cable from the wall. Blessedly, now the only sound Frank could hear was that of his own soft crying.

A little while later a calmer Frank tried to rationalize what had just occurred. He didn’t believe in the paranormal, did he? Although admitting to himself that he was still grief stricken over the loss of dearest Nora he didn’t believe he was hallucinating or losing his reason. He had definitely heard the tapping and voice and it seemed to emanate from his computer. Ergo, the only other explanation was that someone must had programmed it in. Why had someone done it? To upset or scare of course. Well, it had certainly succeeded in doing that for a time. Who could have done it? The only culprit he could think that had had the capability and opportunity was Colin: his unlovable, prank playing 14-year-old grandson. Yesterday he had come around after school to kick his heels whilst waiting for his Mum to pick him up after a dental appointment. Frank, for peace and quiet, had given in to Collin’s demands and let him mess about on his computer.

Rather than give young Colin the satisfaction of ‘silly old Grandad’ bribing him to remove the offending jest, Frank decided to take his computer to a computer shop and pay for an expert to remove it.

Darren, with fag dangling out of the side of his mouth switched on Frank’s computer and with deft strokes rifled the software coding within. Half an hour later he turned to his boss announcing ‘Can’t find the malware the old bloke Frank says is on his computer. Should I spend longer or what?’

‘Nah, geezer’s nuts. Just give it back. Say it’s mended and charge him the usual.’

Two weeks later and somewhat lighter in the wallet, Frank picked up his dear old computer and, rushing home, set it up on his computer desk. Plugging it in he flicked the on button and sat back in eager anticipation. Relaxed. Worries banished.

First nothing happened and then the screen flickered on and off until the strobing lights disorientated him. Then the noises started. Tap, tap, tap. Tink, tink, tink. ‘Help me. Help me HELP ME!’

Clapping his hands over his ears in an effort to shut out the cacophony he found he could not tear his eyes from the screen. Heart beating out of control he reared back as the screen exploded with a deafening crash and, horror of horrors, a life-sized, wrinkled and decomposing hand, clutching a wilted wedding bouquet strewing rank foul smelling petals across his desk began to emerge from the computer’s innards. Clawed fingers grasped the desk’s edge as the rest of Nora began to emerge until he could see her gaping mawl and dripping fangs.

As his eyes closed shut on the fearful apparition all he could hear was a loud cackling followed by the sound of his own voice calling ‘Help me, help me, HELP ME!’