By Erin Hunter
The phone rang, echoing around the white and silver kitchen that was as glossy as a hall of mirrors. Jess was surrounded by a dozen reflections of herself as she went to pick up the handset.
"Hello?"
For a moment there was no answer, just the faint sound of someone breathing. Jess thought of her friends laughing as they told her not to accept the babysitting job from someone she'd never met. "They probably live in a creepy old house in the middle of the woods!"
They didn't. They lived in a top floor loft with a view of the city that made Jess feel like a bird. The white leather sofas smelled of plastic wrapping.
Then a little voice said, "I'm coming home," before the line clicked off.
Was there another child Jess didn't know about?
The phone rang again. "I'm coming home!" Now the voice sounded old, tired and fretful. There was a tap of footsteps. Climbing marble stairs. Like the ones that led up to the loft.
Jess looked down. Something was brushing her leg. It was the phone cord. It had fallen out of the wall.
The sound of scratching at the door. Like a dog. In her hand, the phone rang. "I'm home!" rasped the voice, older than sand. "Did you wait up?"
YOU ARE READING
Half Minute Horrors
AcakA collection of very short horror stories. I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE STORIES OR THE CHARACTERS IN THEM. I WILL SPECIFY WHO THE REAL AUTHOR IS OF EACH STORY. I GOT THEM ALL FROM A BOOK I HAVE CALLED HALF-MINUTE HORRORS.
