Eyeless Jack

Knock knock knock. It's pouring outside. You can hear the rain as it pelts the roof of your home, echoing the sound of rocks more than that of water. But the knocking is a noise completely separate from the rain; one that is out of place in the quiet of your bedroom. You turn over in your bed, gazing at the window at the far wall. You perceive a figure residing on the other side, smudges of deep blue set around sunken-in voids. It lifts its hand, tapping at your window again. "Let me in."