The Midnight Caller (Horror Story)

It started with a single ring.

The clock had just struck midnight when the phone on the nightstand buzzed with a loud, shrill tone that pierced through the silence of the room. Ellie jolted awake, her heart racing as she fumbled for the phone, knocking over a glass of water in her haste. The screen glowed dimly in the dark, displaying an unknown number.

She hesitated. It was the middle of the night, after all. Who could possibly be calling at this hour?

Against her better judgment, Ellie answered.

“Hello?” Her voice was hoarse, thick with sleep.

Nothing.

There was no sound on the other end. No static, no breathing, just pure, suffocating silence. She pulled the phone away from her ear, squinting at the screen. The call was still connected.

“Hello?” she repeated, her voice trembling now.

Then came the whisper.

It was faint, so soft that she almost didn’t catch it, but there it was. A low, raspy voice, barely audible, crackling through the speaker like something out of a nightmare.

“I’m outside.”

Ellie froze.

Her mind scrambled for an explanation. A prank? A wrong number? She hung up quickly, her fingers shaking as she set the phone back down on the nightstand. I’m just imagining things, she told herself. But the words echoed in her head: I’m outside.

She lay back down, trying to convince herself that it was nothing, but sleep didn’t come easily. Her eyes kept drifting to the window, half-expecting to see a shadowy figure standing there, watching her. But there was nothing. Just the rustling of the trees outside and the faint hum of the city beyond.

For a few moments, the night returned to its heavy stillness.

But then, the phone rang again.

This time, the sound shattered the quiet like glass. Ellie sat up, her heart pounding against her chest. The screen flashed the same unknown number. Every instinct screamed at her to ignore it, to turn off the phone and bury herself under the blankets. But her hand moved on its own, answering the call.

Silence again.

Ellie’s throat tightened, her pulse racing as she strained to listen.

“Who is this?” she whispered, her voice barely louder than the ticking of the clock on the wall.

The whisper returned, more distinct this time.

“I’m at your door.”

Her blood ran cold.

Slowly, her gaze drifted toward the bedroom door. The apartment was small, a studio really, with the front door only a few feet away. She could see it from where she sat—closed, locked. But the whisper, that terrible whisper, had been so certain, so real.

She slid out of bed as quietly as she could, her bare feet touching the cold floor. Tiptoeing toward the front door, her breath hitched in her throat. She didn’t want to look through the peephole. Didn’t want to see what might be on the other side. But her curiosity gnawed at her, pulling her closer.

Her fingers trembled as they reached for the knob. Slowly, she leaned in, pressing her eye against the peephole.

There was no one there.

Just the dimly lit hallway beyond her apartment door, the light flickering as it always did. Relief washed over her, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

But then, her phone rang again.

The sound was so loud, so sudden, that she almost dropped it. She glanced at the screen—unknown number—her hands shaking as she answered for the third time.

“I’m inside.”

The words hit her like ice water.

She spun around, her eyes scanning the room frantically. But there was no one. Nothing. The bed was untouched, the window still closed. She was alone—or at least, that’s what it looked like.

Her pulse roared in her ears as she edged toward the bathroom. She closed the door behind her, flicking on the light, hoping the brightness would banish the creeping dread crawling up her spine. Her reflection in the mirror looked pale, terrified. She could feel her hands shaking uncontrollably now.

Think. It had to be a prank, right? Someone messing with her. Maybe someone in the building?

But how could they have known? Known that she was checking the door? Knew that she was looking through the peephole? The voice—so calm, so certain—had spoken those words like it was watching her, waiting.

Her thoughts spiraled, and before she knew it, the phone buzzed in her hand again. But this time, there was no call.

It was a message.

Her breath caught in her throat as she opened it, the tiny screen feeling impossibly heavy in her hands.

Turn around.

Her heart stopped. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Slowly, her eyes drifted up to the mirror, her own reflection staring back at her, wide-eyed, filled with terror.

But behind her—just barely visible in the corner of the mirror—was something else.

A shadow. A figure. Tall, dark, wrong.

Its face was obscured, but its eyes… hollow, black pits, stared right at her.

She screamed, spinning around, but the bathroom was empty. Nothing there. She slammed open the door, bolting back into the bedroom, her breath ragged, her mind reeling. Her phone clattered to the floor as she ran, her eyes darting around the room, trying to find some sign, some clue of what she had seen.

The phone buzzed once more.

She didn’t want to look at it, but she couldn’t help herself. The screen glowed in the darkness, another message lighting up her worst fears.

I see you.

Ellie backed into the corner of the room, her heart thundering in her chest. The shadows in the corners seemed to stretch, grow, taking on forms that weren’t quite human.

Suddenly, the lights flickered, then went out completely, plunging the apartment into absolute darkness. She clutched the phone in her trembling hands, the screen her only source of light.

In the pitch-black silence, she heard it.

Breathing.

Slow, shallow, coming from just beyond the darkness.

Closer.

Closer.

A final message appeared on her phone screen as the cold presence wrapped around her like a shroud:

You let me in.

The darkness swallowed her scream.

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