Author’s note: This was just shared to a Facebook page, and I couldn’t for the life of me find it on any pages on which I’ve shared stories before! I had to dig through the archives of all my work, the hundreds upon hundreds of Google Docs I have in order to find it. If I’m being honest, I only vaguely recall writing this, but I think it’s a good reflection of how my style/skills have evolved over time. I feel like when I wrote this, I was writing exclusively for NoSleep, and once I broke myself of free of those self-imposed restraints, I was able to develop my craft so much more. Like I feel like the difference between this and the newest story I posted, looking at them side to side, it’s kinda cool to see how different my work is. So without further adieu, I hope you enjoy this (very) short story!
About two hours ago, I had a situation develop. I still don’t know what’s going on, and I need advice. I wrote this in as much detail as I could. I had just moments earlier fallen asleep when my phone began to vibrate, seemingly shaking the whole room to wake me. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, debating whether or not I cared enough about what anybody had to say to me at this hour to answer the call. Curiosity got the better of me and I rolled over and picked my phone up from the nightstand. It was a number I didn’t recognize. Again, I deliberated over my next move. Thinking it could be a friend in need, I chose to answer.
Garbled static replied from the other end.
“Hello?” I asked again.
“Hell–Hello?! Oh thank god. Please, open your door. I need help.” asked an exasperated, frantic man’s voice.
“What? Who is this?”
“Just open the door, please, I really need your help. Like right now. It’s getting closer.”
“What’s getting closer? Who is this?”
At this point, I thought it was a prank call. Or a wrong number. But on the off chance it wasn’t, I hopped out of bed. I took the baseball bat I had next to my bed and walked to the front door while our conversation continued.
“You gotta let me in, please, I’m begging you.” pleaded the man.
“What are you–where are you?” I barely got the words out before he loudly retorted.
“Right at your door! It’s almost here oh my god please let me in!” Please!” He was begging in hysterics at this point.
Without replying, I put my hand on the doorknob. I hadn’t heard his pleas from the other side of the door, which struck me as odd; through the phone it seemed as if he was screaming.
“Please, please, please!” he cried again.
Turned the door handle, hesitating once more before I invited whatever was going outside into my home. He must have heard the knob turn because I suddenly heard relief in his voice.
“Yes, yes, yes! Please, thank you! Please!”
I swung my front door open to an empty porch. Before I had a chance to look around, the man on the phone spoke loudly.
“Oh my god! Thank you so much! Close the door! Hurry! Close the door!” He begged.
Without thinking about what was going on, I slammed my door shut.
I stood there in the now silent house, and looked around. What the hell had just happened? There was no one here. No one had come inside. Either this was the world’s biggest coincidence, or something I couldn’t even begin to comprehend was going on.
“He–hello?” I asked into the phone.
All I received in return was garbled static.
I started pacing, as I often do when I’m nervous. I stayed on the phone for about another 30 seconds, hearing scuffling through the static. Suddenly, it stopped. And I heard the voice, now much calmer. Eerily calm.
“Thank you so much for letting me in, Nick. You have such a lovely home.”
My stomach dropped when the call ended.
I’ve been sitting in my house since, in my chair in the living room, not knowing what to do. I have my phone in hand, and I’m honestly scared out of my mind. Any ideas what I’m dealing with here?