Creepypasta stories

Disorted warning signals

* I'm not the original author you can find the story by the author here :
https://www.creepypasta.com/distorted-warning-signals/

When I got the first one, I was literally seconds away from stepping onto the plane when a call from "UNKNOWN" blared from my cell phone. It was a ringtone I hadn't heard before, one I was pretty sure hadn't come with the phone.

Normally, I wouldn't have stopped to answer it, but I was expecting a call about a job I had interviewed for the previous week. I took a deep breath in and accepted the call.

"Hello?"

"Do not get on the plane." A woman's voice, garbled and strange, as if her vocal chords had been shredded, and she was trying desperately to choke out speech. Despite the unnerving, fractured quality of her voice, her tone was insistent and eerily calm. Then the call ended.

I froze. I had always had a slight phobia of air travel, and something about this call just... there's no way I was about to get on a seven hour flight now. I turned around and headed toward the food court. I'd just get another flight later in the afternoon, I figured.

I watched from the airport Starbucks three hours later as every TV in the terminal lit up with the crash footage of the plane I should have been on.

No survivors. Not a single one.

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I tried to trace the call. So did the police. But there was nothing to trace. There was no evidence my phone had ever received a call around that time. They analyzed phone records, incoming and outgoing communication to my phone... nothing.

I wasn't making it up. I couldn't have been.

That wasn't the only call. Throughout the years, they were few and far between, but always right. And I always listened.

"Do not go on that blind date tonight." Five months later, my would-be "date" was convicted of killing four women, all with my hair color and build. Found them in a shallow grave about 250 feet from the diner he offered to take me to.

"Do not drive to the concert tonight." Eighteen-wheeler lost control and plowed into a line of cars. Every driver crushed. Every driver killed. In the stretch of freeway I would have been driving down.

No matter if I got a new phone, if I moved across the country, the calls would still come. I could almost feel the presence of... whatever it was, whatever it is, watching over me.