Cold Caller

2 0 0

by 00shortfate00

by 00shortfate00

There it went again, the usual hourly phone call that set my mobile off in a spiral, vibrating and chiming upon the pine coffee table sat in the middle of my living room. Its screen lit up, flashing vibrantly, with a no caller Id across the top, hues of blue and green dancing behind it creating a kaleidoscope of colours. With hands pressed to cheeks I lean forwards on my couch, eyes crossing from the TV hung on the pale grey wall to my phone, feeling a sick dread course through me everytime I read those three words.

This wasn't going to be the last time, I promised myself a month ago it would stop if I left it, but it didn’t. It stops, a caesura to a long melodic piece. Except this was no melody I wanted to hear as the tone chimes once again, a brief moment of peace washed out by the dread that had returned. With hesitance, I swipe a finger across the screen and press the loudspeaker, knowing what was going to be on the receiving end and wanting nothing of it anywhere near my ear canal.

There's a crackle, the kind you'd hear near a telegraph pole if you got too close, scattering around the room. Shadows loomed in from every corner, encroaching me. The Sound was static like, my phone glitching in a similar manner, twitching as if it lived, like you and I.

Then it began.

Sonorous breathing filled the room; it was quiet at first, but then it burst into a loud crescendo. Akin to the sound of sick pleasure one would requite from true disturbance, a pleasure so sinful it sent shivers down my spine, a cold rush of blood perturbing me.

I feel vile, a nauseating feeling creeping up my throat while something became guttural in the background, spluttering before falling silent. It happened everytime I'd pick the call up, it was a never ending playthrough; what a sick person they were. The breathing stills, small whimpering following, one that sounded like a wounded puppy, or was it a child? No matter how many times I had listened I could never decipher who or what it was, my mind blanking whenever I try to piece it together. I could strain all I wanted, till i caused a migraine, yet nothing was ever solved.

Blocking the number never worked, somehow it would still get through, popping up on the screen and playing that unseemly cheery tune before switching to the decrepit one followed shortly after. Whats more, before you say try calling the police, it never works. Their voices become scrambled, a deep gurgle and then breathing; close to the microphone, lips pressed to the phone kind of heavy breathing. It was like everything I did to stop these calls lead to the disconcerting resonate of sonorous breathing.

"I have a gift for you." The usual deep, monotonous voice growled out, the inflections in pitch ominous and unwelcoming.

There's a pounding on the door, startling me, I gyrate staring hard down the corridor which opened on to the front door. I apprehensively stand up, the heavy breathing resuming as cries mixed in, creating a cacophony of pain personified. My feet fall short of the door, steeling myself as I tenderly reach to the door handle and pull it open.

A small child was stood, slightly hunched, before me, deep pits where eyes used to be, bloody and sore. Their lips hung low, creating an exaggerated frown, ominous to its cause. Loose fabric hung from their shoulders, frayed and torn around the edges and smothered in dirt. In their small bloodied hand, cracked and leaking some form of substance, was a teddy, dragged by its leg with a torn off head.

The teddy swayed, its body fluttering in a breeze unperceived by myself, or anything for that matter. A soft patter decorated the corridor of the apartment building, capturing my attention. There, somehow hurtling along the carpet, came the head of the teddy, its eyes ablaze with a fury unknown to mankind, red dripping to the floor and squelching with each leap.

I feel a shiver run down my spine as I gaze on, choking on the uncontrollable saliva that began to pool in my mouth. It grew close. Suddenly it stops and plops to the floor, shuddering with a force awakened from its depths. It rolls, a trail of blood left behind as it comes to rest beside the child. Gruesome as it may be, there was a hint of nostalgia hiding behind the deep depths that replaced once hand sewn buttons.

The phone rings again from behind me, endearing in the calm that settled around. I step back, one eye on the child, making my way towards the coffee table.

A hand grabs me, grubby and sweat ridden as it covers my mouth, a retch ripping it's way from my throat as a foul stench reaches my nose, wide eyed and star gazed as fog clouded my mind. A head appears over my right shoulder, striking blue eyes piercing me in a way a sword would, staring into my soul and beyond. I scream, muffled heavily by the hand that gripped tighter.

He was all too familiar to me and so was the way he breathed. Heavy, hard, and sonorous. His breath was wretched, a sickly mucus like smell that settled into your nose and never withered. It was unwelcoming, the fear and desperarion that shot through me like electricity through a fuse. Something sharp and smooth ran across my side, a pins and needle feeling stretching across my skin, digging ever so slightly in the further he went. A hiccup smothers my fearful cries; the child, all neat and untorn with a clean teddy held tight in their arms, hunched before me, hot tears leaving trails down their cheeks.

"I have a gift for you." He whispers into my ear, breath heavy and thick with a distinguished smell of strong liquor. A fluttering memory flails through my mind through the fog, like a boat gliding over calm sea's. His hand moves to my forehead, gliding over my eyes, the sweat stinging them.

I scream as pain strikes my left hip, a wet squelching sound resonates around the room, my reality spinning the whirlpool leading me to my doom. The child screams, the teddy slipping from between their fingers as they lift to cover their mouth. It falls in slow motion, hand sewn buttons melting into black abyssal depths as it hits the floor, the neck tearing apart as another pain shoots through my own, liquid splashing out like a spontaneous fountain. I gurgle, my screams turning guttural as I fall to the ground, hands splayed out in an attempt to catch myself. With little control I now laid sprawled over the floor, the child whimpering and cowering in fear as he nears them. I watch with dulled eyes as he pounces, breathing heavily akin to the sound of sick pleasure one would requite from true disturbance, a pleasure so sinful.

Before he reaches them they both fade, specks of dark whips fluttering to the floor. The teddy left behind, head staring deep into my eyes as I feel myself lose everything. A momento of a story told.