Spoopy House: The Phone

Answer the call if you dare!

Jerry’s back hurt as he sat down among the makeshift cardboard oblisks in his living room. The move had been a bit trying this time as it became very apparent that Jerry wasn’t a 20-something anymore but rather a solid 40-year-old man. He’d scooped the house he now sat in for a third of the price of the homes in the area. He’d figured that maybe someone had died inside of it or something as the purchase and sale history was frequent. It could have been a sign of foundation issues, but that didn’t matter to him, he was going to flip it for a mint in two years.

He cracked open a beer, took a sip, and let his body relax a little before it stiffened up once more.

It didn’t stiffen up from the physical exertion, but rather from an instinctual urge to run to answer the phone. Jerry believed he must have misheard the sound or maybe a neighbor for some reason had a landline, but when it rang again, the sound was too crisp to be make-believe.

As he stood up and began to search for the ringing phone, he remembered never seeing a phone in this house when he toured it or when he moved in. Walking over to the garage, the ringing was muted but louder. The two-car attached garage was to be his gym/workshop for fixing and updating the house. He made sure there were enough power outlets to plug in his power tools, but what he didn’t notice was the small door in the wall.

It would have been overlooked as the door’s seams were covered so it would blend in with the wall. Kneeling down, Jerry took out his box cutter to cut away the tape and plaster and freed the rectangle shape. With some effort, he used the cutter to pivot the door open, and with each step the ringing grew stronger. The door revealed R25 insulation that he gently removed and placed on the cement floor.

Taking the insulation away revealed a shelf that was in the cavity of the wall. Resting on the shelf was a cobbled-together dome of foam that was formed by leftover pieces and tired duct tape. Picking it up allowed the ringing to cheer at its full volume and Jerry immediately recognized the shape underneath.

It was a beige rotary phone.

“Huh, an antique, much like myself.” His hand reached out to pick up the receiver from the cradle and stopped. Whoever made the door, the shelf, and the domed foam really wanted this phone to not be found. Why not just unplug it? Why not just throw it out if they didn’t want it? Why seal it behind the wall?

His hand reached over the phone to find the cord had been cut.

“Oh, okay, that’s not normal. It must be getting power from elsewhere.” Jerry tried to pick up the phone by the carrying hold behind the cradle, but it wouldn’t budge. He looked to see if screws were holding it in place on the wood shelf and found none. “Who glues down a phone?” He asked no one but himself.

Letting a sigh escape his chest, Jerry picked up the handle. He couldn’t let a phone ring without picking up. “Hello?”

The voice that answered sounded like the wind pushing through a hollowed log, “Your children will die.”

That raised an eyebrow for Jerry. “Excuse me?”

“You children will die.”

“Uh, what?”

“Your children will die.”

“I don’t have kids. Bye.” He hung up the phone and shook his head. Standing up the phone rang once more. He stared at it for a long time before answering. “Hello?”

“Your children will die.”

“Seek help.” He hung up the phone only to have it start ringing again. “I’m not answering that again. Nope.” He placed the foam on it and closed the door. For hours, the ringing continued as he unpacked the boxes and settled into the house. He blasted his playlist on his earbuds while working to drown out the ringing. After finishing the unpacking process, he put on a pair of high-end headphones with noise-canceling technology, and went to bed.

Starting work on the remodel, Jerry kept his headphones on, recharging them when the batteries died every few hours. During this waiting period, he would hear the muffled want of the phone screaming to be answered. He just ignored it as he continued to update the kitchen, bathrooms, and flooring. Sometimes he would encounter blood that wasn’t his when he cut into beams, but he just shook it off.

Months passed. Jerry recharged his headphones. The phone continued to ring.

Till one day, years later, when Jerry knew the capital gains tax had passed him by, he started taking photos for the house’s listing. He was, according to the MLS, the longest owner of the home in many decades. It was also time for him to address the phone. How he had missed it during his home inspection was beyond him, but he was certain it had to stop for him to sell the place.

He opened the door, removed the insulation, and took the domed cap off the phone. He shook his head, picked-up the phone again, and with annoyance in his voice asked, “Hello?”

Again, the hollow voice answered, “You children will die.”

“Look pal, you’ve been calling for two years, and my answer hasn’t changed in two years. I don’t have kids.”

“…your wife will…”

“I’m gay.”

“…your boyfriend…”

“No boyfriend.”

“…your brother will…”

“Brother died four years ago.”

“…Sister?”

“Nope.”

“…your nephew will die.”

“No nephews or nieces.”

“Your parents will die.”

“Oh no. Not them. Anything but them. No, wait, they’re dead.”

“…do you have anyone you care about?”

Jerry took a breath, looked around at the things in his garage inside his empty house, and answered, “I don’t do attachments.”

“That’s sad.”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s been calling a phone for two years to threaten children that don’t exist. I call that sad.”

“I can see why you’re single.”

Jerry dropped the handle, grabbed a hammer and screwdriver, and drove the screwdriver into the rotary dial. “What an asshole.” He pulled the screwdriver out of the destroyed phone, replaced the R25 foam insulation with R50, and taped and plastered over the small door’s seams. Waiting for the plaster to dry, he began to shake a can of wall texture when the phone rang again.

He ignored it.

The house sat on the market for months. No one came to view it. Jerry died of a heart attack in the newly renovated bathtub in the master suite.

Read the previous entry: The Lamp

Read the next chapter: The TV

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I don’t know about ya’ll, but that was a spoopy story! Please share this story, and if you haven’t yet hit the subscribe button, please do! I am looking forward to writing more entries in the Spoopy House series for the month of October. They’ve been fun to write and I hope entertaining to read. If you’ve dug these stories, please do let me know in the comments.

Thank you for your time and I’ll see you all in the next entry.