The Phone

May 18, 2012
By tannerflake BRONZE, Mesa, Arizona
tannerflake BRONZE, Mesa, Arizona
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

“Hey look at that!”, Klyde yelled, his bike skidding to a halt. Klyde picked up the box that he spotted on the side of the road. He carefully opened it and inside found an odd phone. He did not recognize it at all. “What kind of phone is that?”, his friend Phemo asked. “I have no idea”, Klyde said, inspecting it from every angle. He then set the phone down and looked on the box. Everything was written in strange japanese characters that he could not understand. As he looked closer, the phone sitting on the ground made a sudden noise. A noise that sounded like horrible choked screaming. He looked down at the phone only for the sound to cut off and the screen to be black. He quickly decided that hadn’t really happened and it was just his imagination.

The two of them rode home in silence, Klyde immersed in his newfound treasure. Once home, Klyde was determined to understand what was written on the box. He found somebody online who claimed he could translate japanese. He wrote down the address and went to see him the next morning. Klyde rang the doorbell and a pale, strange looking man who appeared to be about 30 answered. “Hello. What would can I do for you?” he said, his eye catching the box. “Well I was wondering if you could translate this for me.” Klyde said, handing it to him. The man held it closely to his eyes. For a couple of seconds, he looked intrigued, and then a look of horror came over him. “Where did you find this?” he yelled. “I just found it on the side of the road. Why, what does it say?”, Klyde said confused. “Get rid of this box. Destroy it.” said the man. “Why should I?” Klyde said, with retaliation in his tone. With that, the man threw the box back at him and slammed the door in his face. He could hear heavy, quick footfalls made by the man inside. “Well that was a waste of my time.” Klyde muttered to himself, starting away on his bike.
Klyde went home and kept researching. He was obsessed with finding out what the box said. He found absolutely nothing about it. Klyde looked at the phone again blankly. Suddenly, it lit up and began playing a video. The video was of a person who looked exactly like Klyde. He was in his bed. The same bed as Klyde. The video showed the camera wobbling side to side as a man laughed hysterically. The camera got closer and closer till it was up to his face. Horrified by the video he dropped the phone, ran into his room, shut the door, and blocked it with his weight set. He sat in his bed and began having a panic attack. He started hyperventilating to the point that he passed out. Next thing he knew he was in some sort of dream. Everything was black. All he could hear was the sound of a man laughing. He vaugly recognized the voice. It was as if he had heard it only minutes ago. “This isn’t a dream!, he yelled at himself. He opened his eyes to see a man holding the phone to his face. His skin was more black than night. All he could see was the man’s red eyes and his brown hat. Klyde was paralyzed. He could neither speak nor move. All he could do was watch as he wrapped the man wrapped his hands around his neck.
“He’s in my room! Let go of me! Help!” Klyde screamed. “He’s flipping out again!”, said the nurse running to his bedside. Klyde was checked into the asylum five years ago after being found passed out on his bed not breathing. He was pronounced insane after being unable to tell what had happened. Investigators said that he locked himself in his room and attempted to commit suicide. A box with Japanese writing sitting at his computer desk translated into, “Run, run as quickly as you can, but there is no way to outrun fate. No way I will not find you.” The only thing that they couldn’t understand was the phone lying on his bed. Nobody could identify what kind of phone it was. As is was in transit to the lab to have tests run, the phone along with the box fell out of the car somewhere on the side of the road. When they went back, all that were found were two skid marks from a bike.

The author's comments:
I have always enjoyed writing horror/mystery stories. PS whole story is a paradox, but you probably already figured that out ;)

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