The Wishing Well ✔ [1]

09: caller ID unknown

3:27 AM
Telephone Booth, Crescent Hills

"Max, Max, Max." Those were the only words flowing around her head. Her fingertips skimmed past all the names in the bulky brown leathered contact book.

Max. That was the name she was looking for. The name she's been yearning to call ever since she got out of that hell of a place.

Lane came across the booth on the way from the wishing. And as if a force held in her place, Lane stood in front of the booth, contemplating
whether she should go in or stay out of it. Eventually, her mind won.

Her tone was soft but rapid, "Please, please." It was practically pouring out of her mouth like a chant—begging for something she couldn't have. Ever. Lane's eyes slid in haste, sliding from side to side searching for a name. His name.

The claustrophobic telephone booth started to feel as if it was closing on her, taking her breath away.

Her badly busted knuckles shook and sweat with every waking moment passing. Going over the torn contact book, again and again, hoping it would appear.

Then there it was, beneath the name May Ivana was his name. Maximilian—back name scratched out.

"Okay, okay." Lane soothed herself. "(730) 815-2966." She repeated his phone number, entering it into the telephone as she braced herself.

She let the line ring, waiting for anything but it never came.

"If you have a message please leave it after the beep." The computer said.
Beep!

VOICEMAIL

Caller: Telephone booth 082

(-): Hey, Max. It's Uhm-

(Lane): It's Lane, rusting, I don't really know what to say.
Sorry. That sounds bad. What I meant was I haven't seen
you in such a long time. I've been meaning to call you...
But, you know. Hard to reach anyone here. This is all very
confusing to you, I understand but please hear me out.
Call me Max.
I think there's—

Static

Hello?-

Banging noises

Cut off

The line went dead silent.
"Thank you for leaving a message." The piercing sound blared in her ears, sending a ringing sensation.

Then it connected her to another line.

Caller ID : Unknown

But it wasn't unknown, she knew this person, the person who had been trying to reach for who knows how long. Lane could recognize his faint hoarse tone of voice never changed. It was Floyd.

"Lane! Lane, oh my-I can't." Panic unfolds in her. Was he in danger? What if—stop.

"What's wrong? Are you okay!?" She asked fearfully, an unexplainable dread arose as the grip around the phone tightened.

Floyd's breathing increases. From the other side she could hear the crunch of the dried leaves flattening under his shoes and the waves of wind that he went against, "It's getting closer! Please."

"Where, quick!"

"Forest. Entrance." Then a loud shriek vibrated out of the phone.