I've Been Getting The Strangest Messages On My New Phone

There's a lot of things about me as a person that I'd usually tell people when we first met, or things that they'd notice when they see me. None of those things matter though, because regardless if I'm male or female, black or white, old or young, I'm still going to die.
If I told you that I knew how I got myself in this position, I'd only have half an answer for you. Things began simple, as most terrible situations do.
All I needed was a new smartphone. My job required one, and my old phone had faced an untimely end the weekend prior. If you have a friend who owns a Saint Bernard puppy, never drop anything on the floor. It was less than two seconds from the moment when my phone slipped from my pocket and hit the ground, to the moment when that dog's jaws closed around it.
Things may have been okay if I was a decent sprinter-- or even decent at running for more than 10 seconds at a time-- but as soon as the dog picked up my phone I had to spend 15 minutes chasing her around the yard. She was fast and aggressive, and by the time I pried the phone from her mouth it was ruined.
Her teeth had punctured both the screen and back cover. Glass was shattered and missing in places, and the battery was beyond repair. My friend offered to replace what her dog had destroyed, but I assured her I could order a replacement online.
Unfortunately I happen to use a phone company called TextNow. They're pretty decent-- even though they use Sprint's cell towers-- and sell smartphones for amazing prices. I say unfortunately for the following two reasons; First, amazing prices vary from person to person, in my financial state that means under $100; Second, my phone was no longer part of such a great sale.
For an exact replacement of my phone I would have to pay well over what I could afford, and a minimum of $150 for a phone that would be up to par. I could have gotten one of their cheaper smartphones, but I'm not great at adapting, and the reviews I've seen for the cheaper models have always deterred me. I had overpaid initially for the phone-- spending $300-- but I didn't have the spare change anymore.
So I went searching, all I needed was an unlocked smartphone that was relatively new. Then I stumbled upon an offer that seemed too good to be true. An unlocked iPhone 6S for $120. It was a bit more than I had hoped to pay, but it was the best thing I could find which met my requirements. I'd just have to be wary of what I bought at the grocery store this month.
Apparently my finances were the least of my worries. The phone was delivered express, and two days later I had installed my SIM card and was working on personalizing the phone. It was great, though a noticeable change from the Android devices I was accustomed to.
I had the phone all set and was pleased with myself, then realized it was nearly time for me to meet a few co-workers for some drinks. I was collecting my purse when the phone rang. I wasn't really surprised by it, I was using my original number. The screen showed the area code to be nearby, and I assumed it was someone I had forgotten to put in my contacts.
By the time I grabbed the phone from the table I had a voicemail. I found it slightly unusual, it had only rang once and I'd assumed the person had hung up. Like any normal person I checked the voicemail to hear the message.
I listened for a moment, but all I heard was silence. I was about to hang up when I literally jumped in surprise. Simultaneously there came two sounds. A loud crash from my phone's speaker, and the sound of something loud hitting the floor above me. It made me jump, I mean what are the chances that my upstairs neighbor would drop something at the same time as the voicemail produced sound?
Not only that, but a strange feeling overcame me as I listened more. A man yelling in the voicemail, a muffled voice from the apartment above me. Crashes, bangs, crying. A high definition version of events played into one ear as the other listened to the matching low quality noises coming from upstairs.
I wasn't sure what was going on, but I ended the call and deleted the message while my ceiling shook from heavy footfalls. I didn't want to hear anymore, the neighbors upstairs got into heated arguments all the time. The voicemail was strange, unexplainable, but it was none of my business what my neighbors were doing.
I went out, and didn't think anything of what had occurred until part way through the evening. I was sitting at a table sipping a drink when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, checking the notification revealed that I had another voicemail. I assumed the music had drowned out the phone ringer. Everyone had left the table either to dance or get another drink, so I took that moment to attempt to listen to the voicemail.
There was an odd echo as I answered it, the same song that I could hear in the bar was playing through the voicemail. Oddly enough, the voicemail was about a half a second faster than the actual music. It was as though the room echoed the message instead of it being vice versa.
I heard the glass shatter in my ear at almost the exact time that I saw a man smash a bottle against his table. I witnessed, and listened twice over to what happened next. The yelling between two men, the broken bottle being waved around, bystanders shouting unnecessary comments. It didn't take long for the sharp edges of that bottle to end up in someone's flesh, and that's when my co-workers decided we should exit.
Security was on the two men immediately, but I could smell the copper. I'd be naive to believe that the victim lived after the glass bottle cut into his throat. Things can go wrong so quickly, the world is a confusing place.
Arriving back home should have been a relief compared to the possible murder I had just witnessed. I was shocked that security didn't stop everyone from leaving the bar, weren't we all witnesses to a crime? I didn't want to think about it, but seeing the red and blue lights flashing in front of my building brought the recent memory flooding back.
They weren't there about the bar incident though. I was told to go directly to my apartment, and not to worry. There had been an incident in the building, but the suspect had already been apprehended. I nodded and went inside. I was curious about what could have occurred while I was gone, but I wasn't nosey enough to ask questions.
However, I did look out my window at the array of vehicles. Maybe I shouldn't have, but I wouldn't be any better off if I hadn't. I looked away from the window when they brought out the body bag. Someone was killed in my building. I had no idea who it might be, it's quite a large building. If I'm honest, I was wondering if this incident would lower my rent. Not that I didn't care about a life being taken, but I didn't have any personal attachment to anyone in the building, so my thoughts ran to the only way that I believed this death could impact me.
It wasn't until the next morning on my way to work that I realized that keeping my curiosity to myself was useless. I stood on the platform waiting for the train to come when my phone rang. I went to answer the call, but whoever it was had already hung up and left a voicemail. I was slightly annoyed now, assuming that the phone had been so cheap because of the temperamental voicemail system.
I listened to the message immediately, I had nothing better to do as I waited for my train. The first few seconds were quiet, and I stared around at all the other people waiting for trains. I made accidental eye contact with a woman standing on the platform across the tracks from me. She turned away, but I found myself staring as sudden sound came from my phone.
There was a gasp, and a whimper. It sounded a bit like crying, and I watched the woman across the tracks wipe at her cheeks. Am I hearing her? The question popped into my mind, but it couldn't be true. I didn't see her holding a phone, and how could I be hearing current things in a voicemail?
Still, I watched and listened. I wondered what it would mean if I was right about hearing her. A train horn sounded in the near distance, and the tracks furthest from me began to rattle. Through the phone I heard what sounded like a sigh of relief, and the oncoming train in the background.
Then everything seemed to move in slow motion. The train entered the station, the woman stepped forward, bystanders gasped and screamed, and through the speaker I heard the sounds of bones being crushed and the rending of limbs from a body. The woman had jumped.
I nearly dropped the phone in panic, the voicemail ended as the woman's life did. Security made everyone leave the building, people had gone insane when she was hit. Screaming, crying, calling the police, taking pictures. The place was a flurry of confusion and curiosity.
That was the day I decided to stop listening to the voicemails. Every time I listened I heard someone die. By then I'd heard the news of the fatal argument between my upstairs neighbor and his wife, and my suspicions about the murder at the bar were confirmed. I had no idea how or why, but something was very wrong with this new phone.
A week and a half. That's how long it took before I got the notification that my voicemail box was full. I went through and tried to delete them without having to listen to anything, but I didn't get the chance. As soon as I opened the screen displaying the list of voicemails it started. They all played at once, over each other. The phone locked and wouldn't allow me to do anything, I couldn't even turn it off.
I stared at the black screen of the phone as the sounds played. A thunderous sort of sound, almost like an aggressive wind. Screaming, crying, glass shattering. There were screams for help, and oh so much terror. Everyone I heard feared for their lives, and I had no idea what was happening. There was nothing I could do.
I threw the phone out the window and watched it fall three floors, and then I cried myself to sleep as the sounds of death replayed in my head. I woke up in the morning to find the phone-- entirely undamaged-- on my bedside table. It was opened to the memo app.
No running or hiding. No breaking or burning. No throwing or no drowning. Receive, or Give.
There were no other memos on the phone, and I had never used the app before. I spent two more days trying to destroy or get rid of the phone, but I woke up each day with it perfectly intact next to me. I noticed that the voicemails increased each time I tried to destroy it.
I couldn't handle it, I was going absolutely insane and there wasn't a single person in the world who would believe that I was hearing people die. I made a choice that day, a choice to spare myself. Maybe someone else could handle it, or it could be passed on and on so the burden is shared.
I sold the phone for $60 online. I felt awful taking the money, but I didn't want any buyers to be too suspicious. I used the money to get myself a cheaper phone, it just barely worked but it was better than that cursed thing.
It's been about a week since I sent out the phone to it's new owner. Today I received a call from an unfamiliar number. I answered immediately, fearing that the voicemail issue may have stuck with me.
“Hello?” I questioned my unknown caller.
“Oh, hi! Sorry, I just got this phone and I got a notification that I received a call from you?” He sounded nervous, as though he didn't speak on the phone much.
“I don't think I did, I have no idea who you are,” I tried to sound nonchalant, but when he said that he'd just gotten the phone it made me wary.
“Well, I have a voicemail from your number,” he replied with confusion.
“Listen to me. Do not open that voicemail okay? Never, not even to delete it,” I was panicked and probably sounded highly aggressive, but I couldn't help it.
“What?”
Then I started to cry, because I knew what this meant, “Just please. Please don't open it.”
He sounded absolutely bewildered, but agreed not to open it before ending the call.
That brings me to where I am now. I'm not sure how long I have. Maybe a week if the new owner ignores every voicemail until the inbox is full. Maybe longer if he listens to all but mine. Maybe no time at all before curiosity gets the better of that stranger and he listens to the voicemail from my number.
Regardless, I'm going to die. As passive and unassuming as I've been my whole life, it hasn't made a difference. Even being nothing but a bystander can make life hell. So before I'm gone I wanted to stop standing by and attempt to change things.
Please, for the sake of at least your own sanity, if it seems too good to be true then it is. The most convenient thing is not always the best choice, learn from my mistake.
Category:Reddit Stories
Category:Horror