Voicemail from the Grave
Rina lost her grandfather six months ago. He used to call her every night before bed.
Last night, her phone buzzed with a voicemail. Unknown number.
She pressed play.
“Hey, kiddo. Just checking in. I know it’s been a while. I’ll always be watching over you… From the place they buried me.”
She dropped the phone.
Today, the number called again. This time, the voice whispered:
“Don’t answer the door tonight.”
Someone’s been knocking for the last 15 minutes.
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