Story short · 声匠原创 · 1:29

The Last Voicemail

3:12 a.m. A voicemail from your own number, in your own voice: don’t open the door. Then Jake knocks. And Jake is also on the phone.

NarratorEmmaJake

NarratorAt 3:12 in the morning, Emma's phone buzzed. One new voicemail. The caller was her own number.NarratorShe pressed play. It was her voice. Her own voice, whispering.EmmawhispersEmma, listen to me. In a minute, Jake is going to knock. Do not open the door. Whatever he says, do not open the—NarratorThe message cut off. Emma called Jake. He picked up on the first ring.JakeHey, babe. I'm still at the hospital, night shift. You okay?EmmaYeah. Yeah, I just had a weird dream.NarratorThen someone knocked on her front door. Three slow knocks.JakeEm? It's me. I got off early and I forgot my keys. Let me in, it's freezing.NarratorSame voice. Same little laugh at the end. Emma looked down at the phone in her hand. The call was still going.EmmaJake? Are you... are you outside?JakeEmma. I'm at work. Whatever is at your door, it is not me. Don't open it.NarratorThe knocking stopped. The voice outside came again, right against the wood.JakeEmma, the guy on the phone isn't me. Look at your screen. Look who you called.NarratorShe looked. The name on the screen wasn't Jake. It was her own number.NarratorThen the doorknob began to turn, very slowly, and her phone buzzed one more time. One new voicemail. From her own number.EmmacryingI opened the door.

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