The door.

You try to sleep, but the noises keep you awake, It's like something's scratching on wood.
And Growling. You tell yourself it's only the wind, and only the trees outside, but the sound
goes on. And on. And on.

Finally, you just can't take it. You stand up, turning the lights on. The sound is coming from
your front door. You talk into the living room on unsteady legs, and the growling gets louder,
the scraping more pronounced, more... vicious. With shaking hands, you reach for the
telephone... and the noises stopped. Like they never were there.

For what feels like hours, you stand there with the phone in your hand, waiting for the sounds to begin again.
Thy never do. Finally, heart in you throat, unable to stop yourself, you walk to the door. You open it.... on the night air.

Nothing. You study the door. It should be almost clawed to pieces, you could have swore you heard the wood start to give. But it's unmarked. You shake your head. Just your imagination. Then you close the door.

The claw marks are on the inside.