#221 | Phone Calls From The Other Side (But Not Adele)

a phone ringing in the dead of night, a familiar number flashing across the screen, one that shouldn’t, couldn’t be calling anymore. You hesitate, fingers hovering over the screen, your breath hitching as you answer. The line crackles, empty at first, but then a voice, faded like a whisper carried on a cold wind, calls your name

It starts subtly, like a whisper heard in passing, an echo out of place. A voice where none should be. A noise from behind a closed door, a faint shiver in the walls that crawls under your skin and makes your heart skip a beat. You think it’s nothing, just the house settling, the wind, a stray radio signal—anything that makes sense. But then the inexplicable persists, nudges at the edge of your mind until you’re left wondering if you’re truly alone.

In the dim stillness, a kind of terror begins to blossom—a terror made of half-heard sounds, the quiet whimper of a dog, the inexplicable thump from an empty room. And as the hours creep forward, each sound grows louder, each shadow darker, until the feeling settles in, heavy and chilling: there’s something else here, unseen but watching, waiting. And maybe, just maybe, it isn’t friendly.