Nightmare Fuel #19: Unknown Caller
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Welcome to another edition of Nightmare Fuel Creeps and Peepers. I'm Dan Cummins, and I'll be sharing another original short horror story of the fictional variety. As always, I highly recommend noise cancellation headphones for the ultimate experience. Hope you enjoy this new nightmare. Time now for the tale of...

Unknown caller. Obviously, no pulse. And based on the amount of rigor mortis that set in, I guess he's been dead somewhere between 12 and 18 hours, Naomi said to her fellow paramedic, Dennis. The two had worked together most shifts going on five years now. Dennis had worked as a paramedic for another 12 before that. And in those years, he'd seen a lot. Naomi had worked for almost seven years before she started working with Dennis. She'd seen a lot too. But neither of them had ever seen anything quite like this.

They both stood over the dead body of Shane Dixon, a middle-aged, married, Caucasian father of two, 55 years old, and looking like he'd been in excellent health for his age, fit and muscular. And yet, here he was, lying dead on the floor of his home with a look of intense fear on his face. While they realized the coroner might disagree later, to Naomi and Dennis, there were no obvious signs of foul play. If anything, it looked like he'd had a heart attack.

or literally been scared to death, Naomi thought. Shane also looked like he had completely lost his mind before he died. He'd boarded up all the windows in his otherwise nice home. According to a neighbor waiting in the yard when the police and emergency services first arrived, he'd just done this over the past 48 hours. He'd, quote, gone absolutely crazy. His wife had gotten scared of him and left two or maybe three days prior to go stay with relatives.

Naomi also heard this neighbor say that he'd screamed at her to keep her phone away from him. All the lights Naomi could see had been busted up, literally all of them. The house was completely dark. One of the cops even said that the lights in the refrigerator in the microwave had been broken. A TV had been ripped off the wall and smashed, and Naomi could see several speakers in the ceiling had been completely torn out.

Strangest of all, disturbing messages and warnings had been written on sticky notes and posted all over the place. On counters, appliances, the walls, all over the doors, everywhere. They said stuff like, how does he know so much? How can he mimic their voices? He's evil. He's not real. And demon or devil. But mostly they had stuff written on them regarding phones, of all things.

"'Don't answer the phone. He's in the phones. And if you don't answer, he can't talk to you.' It all gave Naomi a bad case of the creeps. "'Somewhere between 12 and 18 hours dead sounds about right to me, Naomi,' said Dennis as he stood with his hands on his hips and took the surreal scene in. "'Let's get him loaded up and get the hell out of here.' Dennis was usually beyond stoic. She'd literally never seen him rattled before. And he wasn't rattled now, not exactly, but he definitely seemed disturbed.'

"'Dennis?' Naomi said. "'Yeah,' he replied, as he continued to absorb their surroundings, his eyes scanning the walls, reading more of the dead man's strange final messages. "'Did you see what he did to his phone?' she asked. "'Yeah, to both of his phones.' "'Did Dennis just shut her?' "'Landline and cell phone. You ever heard about someone smashing up their phones like that?' Naomi wondered. "'No, this is definitely a first.'

Dennis inhaled and exhaled deeply, then stopped looking around at the walls and fixed his stare directly at Naomi. So were all these notes. Before we came in, I thought the one on the front door was an inside joke. Dennis shook his head in disbelief. So did Naomi as she said, yeah, do not bring your phone inside. In all caps. Did you see the one stuck on the wall next to where the landline was? Uh-huh, he answered. Do not replace. This is how he finds you.

"'What the hell was he talking about?' Dennis asked. "'No idea,' Naomi mumbled, and she looked towards the fridge and pointed. "'And that notebook over there on the counter?' "'Nope. Missed that one,' said Dennis before he walked over to it, looked down and read the cover. "'Read if I'm dead. We have to stop him.' "'Holy shit,' Dennis muttered. As he looked back at Naomi, bewildered, "'Clearly this guy had to have had some kind of psychotic break, right?' "'Yeah.'

"'He sure did,' Naomi remarked, thinking to herself, "'the mother of all psychotic breaks.'" Naomi and Dennis both jumped, startled at the sound of Naomi's cell phone. They looked at one another and laughed. "'Wow, never been startled like that by a phone ringing,' Dennis commented, sounding embarrassed. "'Right?' smiled Naomi. But then her smile quickly fell off of her face as she wondered, how could her phone be ringing? She always said it to do not disturb while she was at work. She also always said it to vibrate.'

She tried to shake off the bad feeling forming in the pit of her stomach as she pushed the button to silence it without needing to take it out of her pocket. Naomi's stomach sank a little further. How was it ringing again? And at full volume, no less. After she had just set the ringer to vibrate, she quickly pushed and held down the button again that should have already set it to vibrate and told herself that she must have made a mistake a moment ago and not pushed the button hard enough. Shit. Again? Again?

Naomi couldn't stop thinking about all the dead man's notes that surrounded her, many of them about some sort of madman who uses phones to do something to you. And she shivered. "'Sorry,' she apologized to Dennis, who was beginning to look as bothered by the ringing as she was. Confusion spread across Naomi's face. "'I thought I'd set it to do not disturb and had the ringer off. Maybe it's an emergency?' Dennis speculated, doing his best to problem-solve and come up with a reasonable explanation that had nothing to do with their unsettling surroundings.'

"'I know I have my phone set up "'so that if Claire calls me twice in a row, "'her second call will cut through "'the do not disturb setting.' "'Yeah, maybe,' Naomi acknowledged nervously "'as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. "'Unknown caller. "'Pretty aggressive spammer,' she thought "'as she sent the call to voicemail. "'But then it rang again. "'How? "'How was her phone still ringing? "'Once again, she sent the call to voicemail. "'She checked and it was set to do not disturb. "'To her knowledge, an unknown caller "'had never been able to get past that setting before.'

and then before she was even able to get the phone back in her pocket, it started ringing yet again. Dennis looked at Naomi and cocked an eyebrow, looking more and more concerned with each passing moment. "'Go ahead,' he said. "'Answer it. "'I don't think anyone will care if our guy here has been dead an extra minute or two "'when he shows up at the hospital for the doctor to confirm what we already know.' He paused before continuing, "'And I'll admit, I'm curious as hell who this is.' Naomi nodded as she tapped the answer button and put the phone to her ear. "'Hello?'

She said with a slight shake in her voice. After a beat of silence, she heard laughter. Who is this? She asked, irritation rising in her throat. Both no one and everyone, replied what sounded like a man's voice. And then he continued with, it's your turn, Naomi. Are you ready to play? More laughter. She ignored his talk about playing some sort of game, but it bothered her a lot. How do you know my name? Who is this? She asked with rising concern.

Dennis stared at her looking worried, laughed her again. And then the caller said, Such simple questions, but the answers are so complicated. I know a lot of things, Naomi. I've been around a long, long time, and I'm always learning something new. I'm learning so much about you right now. I like the sound of your voice, Naomi. There's such a sweetness under the crusts.

Naomi wanted to hang up, but she also knew that the more this creep said, the more information she'd be able to give the police to help catch him and charge him with something. So she just let him talk. Dennis was motioning for her to put the call on speaker, but she didn't want to miss what this guy was telling her by taking the phone away from her ear for a moment and switching. Breaking Shane Dixon was a lot of fun, he continued. As you can see, I really got into his head. More laughter. And then...

I think breaking you will be even more fun. Talk to you soon, Naomi. When I call, and I will call, be sure and pick up. I'm so curious how much you'll be able to take." And with that, he hung up. "Well?" Dennis asked. He was riveted. He'd walked up to a suddenly pale-looking coworker and was standing right next to her. "Who was it?" "I don't know," Naomi said, looking every bit as shaken up as she felt.

But they knew what happened here, Dennis. And they knew my name. A few minutes later, Dennis loaded the dead man's remains into a body bag while Naomi spoke with one of the police officers on scene. He wrote down everything she told him and told her a detective would probably be calling her soon with questions. Dennis and Naomi then loaded the body into the ambulance and drove it to the hospital. And along the way, even though it was definitely, she had checked about a dozen times now, said to do not disturb and to vibrate.

Naomi's phone rang again. Unknown caller. She sent it to voicemail, but then, like it had before, it immediately rang again. So she put her phone into airplane mode. And still somehow, it rang. Unknown caller. What the actual fuck? Dennis exclaimed as he furrowed his brow in protective anger and said, Who is this asshole? Answer, put it on speaker. Wouldn't be bad to have a second witness to share what this psycho says to you with the police. Not a bad idea to let him hear a man's voice still.

Naomi, her hand beginning to shake, gave a light, why not shrug, and hit answer, followed immediately by putting the call on speaker. Thanks to your good payment history and good credit score, you have been qualified for an interest rate reduction between zero to five percent. Several attempts were made to reach you. This is your final courtesy call before we are unable to lower your interest rate. Press one now. Dennis laughed nervously and said, fucking robocallers. Maybe that's who's been calling most of the time, as opposed to that creep.

Naomi looked a bit dazed. Yeah, I hope so, she said distractedly. And then after a contemplative pause, she added, but how can anyone, Spanner or not, get through when my phone is in airplane mode? Dennis considered her question for a few moments before answering. Maybe even though you put your phone into airplane mode, it didn't actually go into airplane mode. You know what I'm saying? It must be glitching somehow. Naomi studied her phone. I've never heard of that happening.

Here, let me test my theory. Dennis said as he pulled out his phone, brought up Naomi's number, and called. After several tense moments, her phone rang. See? He beamed, smiling and trying to lighten the mood. Your phone is just fucked up. Terrible timing for it to go haywire after what we just saw, right? Yeah, terrible timing, Naomi repeated absentmindedly.

She felt a little better, but she thought, how did her phone glitching explain the caller she definitely heard earlier? The man she had spoken with. The voice that knew her name. Knew the dead man's name. She didn't bring any of that up with Dennis, though. She didn't want to talk about it anymore. Instead, she completely powered her phone off, put it back in her pocket, and did her best not to think about all the notes at the dead man's house. If you don't answer, he can't talk to you. Demon or devil? She also tried her best not to think about his face. How scared he'd looked.

She hoped that soon, very soon, all of the strange events of the past few hours would be nothing more than a distant memory. But deep down in her bones, she knew that whoever spoke with her back at the man's house would be calling her again soon. Naomi's phone, the phone still in her pocket that she hadn't turned back on, rang as she drove home alone at the end of her shift. And it filled her body with dread. It was off.

She could entertain the possibility of a phone looking like it was in airplane mode, but somehow still actually being able to receive calls. But when it was completely powered off, shouldn't that absolutely be impossible? She wished she knew how to open it up and take out the battery. She tried to ignore it, but it just kept ringing and ringing and ringing. More rings than should even be possible without going to voicemail. Finally, feeling increasingly unnerved and angry at being harassed, she pulled her phone out.

It had turned itself back on somehow. It once again displayed the words, unknown caller, on the screen. She tried sending it to voicemail, but this time it wouldn't go. It just kept ringing and ringing and ringing. She tried turning the phone back off, and now it wouldn't do that either. This was insane. It was relentless. Reluctantly, Naomi finally answered. And then she didn't say a word as she waited to hear his voice coming to the speakers of her Ford Bronco. And after several seconds of silence, there he was.

The same man from the first call. It's rude not to answer the phone, Naomi. He sneered with more amusement than annoyance. Is that really how you want to start this off? By being rude to me? You don't want to make me angry, do you? He followed his menacing words with more of his mocking laughter. Naomi felt increasingly enraged at this smug asshole's arrogance. Who the fuck are you? She asked defiantly. Tsk, tsk, Naomi. Cursing already?

You already asked me that, and I already told you. Both no one and everyone. I wasn't lying. I'm aware that may sound confusing, but it'll make sense soon enough. I'm who drove poor Shane Dixon to first go mad and then have his heart attack. I was his wife. His grown children. His father. His friends. His co-workers. I was even Shane himself. Naomi's rage transformed into fear.

Whoever this was, they were obviously unhinged, which meant she probably could not reason with them. Neither could anyone else. Still, she hoped to scare them off. "'I've already talked to the police,' she said with a slight quiver in her voice. "'They know you called.' "'I also know they know I called,' mocked the strange, taunting man before laughing again.

You spoke with Officer Jamie Graham, right? A young man with blue eyes, short brown hair, thin build? He's married to a woman named Stephanie, and they have two little girls, Hattie and Bailey. Naomi felt her blood turn cold as she recalled the young officer who was thin, who did have blue eyes and brown hair, who did have a wedding band on his ring finger, and he had introduced himself as Jamie. How? How could the caller possibly know any of that?

He must have been watching the house somehow, she reasoned. He must have cameras set up and was watching and listening to her and Dennis and everyone else there the whole time. She was now starting to think that Shane had been murdered, that he didn't die of natural causes. And she made a mental note to share this info when the detective called. Or if he didn't call her first thing tomorrow, she'd call him and share it. The voice on the phone laughed a bit and then continued, as if he were reading her thoughts, saying...

Jamie will most likely contact Detective Blaine McGrath, who will then contact you. Not that it'll do any good. Do you also know that I will be reporting all of this to the police as well? Naomi asked, trying to sound like he wasn't scaring her and failing. The man laughed especially hard at that. Oh, I assume so, he said. Whoever I play with almost always does. I assume you'll also probably tell your boyfriend, Brian Andrade.

You'll tell him all about it when he comes over to talk and fuck after finishing his shift at Paladar 511. Naomi felt sick. That was her boyfriend's name. That was where he worked. And he would be coming over to her place after his shift. Although now, they certainly would not be having sex. Not after the day she was having. We're done, she said as she pushed the button to hang up. But the call didn't disconnect.

The caller laughed the hardest he'd laughed yet before telling her, "'No, we're not done, Naomi. We're done when I say we're done. We're still just getting started. Now,' the call disconnected. Naomi was on edge the rest of her drive home. She kept waiting for it to start ringing again. Thankfully, it didn't. Whoever had been calling her seemed content to let her relax for the moment, or rather be tortured with anticipation over when they would call next."

And now before we find out when the unknown caller does call next, time for our mid-show sponsor break. If you don't want to hear these ads anymore, please become a Robert or Annabelle on the Scared to Death Patreon and get these nightmare fuel stories and all other Scared to Death episodes ad-free and more.

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Thank you for hearing out our sponsors. And now let's check back in with Naomi. Once home in her half of a shotgun double in the Maroney, Naomi fed her cat, Zee, a tabby named after her favorite Pelicans player, Zion Williamson.

She couldn't stop thinking about Shane's house, all the notes, all the broken light bulbs, the boarded up windows, the look on his face. And of course, she couldn't stop thinking about the calls from the unknown caller. Calls he made even when her phone was literally turned off.

She wanted to call her friend Rose or Malika. She wanted to call her mom or her dad. There were so many people she wanted to call, but she didn't call anyone because she didn't want to be on her phone. Her phone made her nervous now, and she didn't want to talk and think anymore about what had just happened. Not at the moment. She wanted to turn her brain off. If she didn't have to worry about drug tests, she would have loved to have fired up a fat joint and gotten too high to think about anything.

Instead, she poured herself a stiff drink, drank it quickly, and then poured herself another one while she watched and tried to get lost in a few episodes of The Crown while she waited for Brian to wrap up his shift. Normally, she would have decompressed after work by scrolling Instagram or Facebook on her phone for a while before watching something, but not tonight. She'd be too anxious that the unknown caller would interrupt her. Hearing her phone make any kind of noise now made her tense up, but it was just Brian.

He was texting to tell her that he was getting off almost an hour earlier than normal. Hey, baby, we had a slow night. Want me to grab you anything on the way over? Just bring yourself. Can't wait to see your face. Had an especially crazy day. Naomi texted back. Oh, no, sorry to hear that. You got it, Wonder Woman. Be there in about 15, Brian replied. He started calling her Wonder Woman here and there not long after they started dating. He was so impressed by what she did, how she literally saved people's lives, that he told her she was a real-life superhero.

She didn't know about all that, but it was still a nice thing to hear. Then she waited. After half an hour had passed and Brian hadn't showed up, she trepidatiously grabbed her phone and texted him again. "'Everything all right?' Immediately, Brian texted back just a single word. "'No.' "'No?' She repeated aloud and scrunched up her face in confusion. That was very unlike him. She waited about a minute for a follow-up text explaining why everything was not all right, but it didn't come, so she texted again. "'What's going on?' She asked."

A few seconds later, Brian replied with, Something came up. I can't come over. The sick feeling in her stomach returned. What the fuck? Naomi muttered as she read it. Brian wasn't one to cancel plans. And on the rare occasion he did, he was apologetic. Very apologetic, actually. So much so, she would tell him that he didn't need to keep saying sorry, and then he'd usually apologize for over-apologizing. Nothing about this exchange felt like him.

What is going on today? Naomi wondered, feeling utterly exasperated as she texted, Oh no, what happened? A few seconds later, Brian sent her a picture. A very, very upsetting picture. It was a selfie of him kissing Summer, one of the waitresses he worked with at Paladar. Naomi felt like someone had knocked the wind out of her. How is this happening? Things had been going so well with Brian. They'd been dating for almost six months now, exclusively. She trusted him. She had really trusted him.

Naomi had never trusted Summer, though. That dirty bitch, she thought. She'd had a bad feeling about Summer the first time she'd met her. She knew right away that she liked Brian by the way she looked at him. And she thought she was a slutty homewrecker. She talked all kinds of shit to Rose and Maleka about Summer the first few months she'd started to seriously date Brian. While Naomi continued to stare at the picture in shock, another one of Brian's texts came through.

"'Sorry,' he wrote. "'But I can't do this anymore, Naomi. "'I can't keep living two separate lives. "'I wanted to tell you this in person tonight, "'but Summer didn't think that would be a good idea, "'and she doesn't want me stopping by. "'You and I are done, Naomi. "'Please don't contact me anymore.'" Naomi's head was spinning. None of this felt right at all. Even if Brian was leaving her for Summer, why would he break up with her like this? Why be such a cruel asshole? Had she never known him at all?

She quickly tried calling him. The unknown caller could go fuck himself. But it went straight to voicemail. Instead of leaving a voicemail, she texted, "What the actual fuck, Brian? You just texted that you were coming over. You just asked me if you wanted to pick something up from me. And now you send me this? And you won't answer my call? Are you seriously this much of a piece of shit?" After a few seconds, a video came through. And when Naomi saw the thumbnail image, she let out a shocked and pained groan and dropped her phone on the couch.

The first photo Brian had sent had been rude and upsetting and completely unnecessary. But this, this was on a whole other level. This was just crazy. Inhuman. It was a video of Brian and Summer, both of them completely nude.

It was a selfie video that Brian had again taken, this one in his bathroom mirror, in a bathroom Naomi knew very well. And it was of both he and Summer having sex. And it was definitely Brian. Identifying tattoos on his chest and stomach, arms, ass, and all gave it away. Naomi felt genuinely sick. She thought she was going to throw up and almost did. Unknown caller. Nausea gave way to dread.

She felt so many things. She felt anger and sadness and confusion and fear and also a bit of morbid curiosity. So she answered. And she heard the terrible man's condescending laughter. "'Are you surprised?' he asked. "'You knew she was after him. And Summer spends so much more time with him than you do. And no offense, but she is a lot sexier than you are, Naomi.'

Her tits are bigger, firmer. Her waist is smaller. Her ass is... Who the fuck are you? Naomi screamed in rage into her phone. Laughed her again. And then with glee in his voice, he replied, No one and everyone, dummy. How many times do I have to keep telling you that, Naomi? Sorry about Brian. Wonder Woman, he mocked. Maybe you'd like me to come over instead, he sneered. I could console you.

2568 North Rampart Street, right? I could drop by anytime I want. Fuck you! Naomi screamed again before hanging up her phone, turning it off, and then wrapping it up in a blanket, putting that blanket inside of a box, and then setting that box outside in her small fenced-in backyard before shutting the back door. She then turned on her TV and cranked up the volume. She wanted to make sure she couldn't hear that bastard call again unless she wanted to.

She paced back and forth anxiously in her kitchen, enraged and scared and confused and crying. She felt so helpless. She so desperately wanted to call her mom or her dad, one of her friends, the police, someone, anyone. But then that psycho could and probably would call her again. She really wanted to talk to Brian, but he was such a piece of shit. Why did he have to do what he did today of all days?

The guy must be some kind of hacker, Naomi thought about the unknown caller. Some unhinged keyboard warrior incel. She couldn't wait for him to get arrested. She dreamt of showing up at the trial to testify, to watch him be taken to prison, where she hoped his cellmate was huge and much more unstable than he was, and violent, very, very violent. The thought of violence made her worry that he was nearby.

that he would soon take his little game to the next level and break into her place. He knew her address and do something to her. He seemed capable of anything. As she now wandered around the house, double checking that the doors and windows were all shut and locked, she decided that she'd get up early and drive to the police station the next morning before her shift.

She also checked to make sure that her pepper spray was still in the nightstand next to her bed. She'd just finished confirming it was in the drawer, right where it should be, when someone knocked at the front door. She was instantly filled with panic and adrenaline in equal measure. She grabbed her pepper spray and ran towards the front door, preparing to unleash it on the dangerous, unstable man who kept calling her, the man who probably had killed Shane Dixon. She stayed quiet. She didn't yell out, wanting to be able to surprise the bastard before she started screaming loud enough to alert the whole neighborhood.

She heard a key begin to unlock the door. How did he get a key, she wondered. How did he do so much of what he did, she thought, and she held up the pepper spray, and as the door opened, she pushed the nozzle button down and began to unleash it. Hey, what are you doing, Naomi? It was Brian. She'd blast him right in the eyes, and now he was doubled over, gagging, rubbing his eyes, and groaning and grimacing in pain. Shit, shit, shit, Naomi shouted. Here, come with me into the kitchen. I'll get you some milk.

Brian continued to groan and asked her why in God's name she would ever spray him like that as she led him by the hand towards a sink, got some milk out of the fridge and poured it into a bowl and had him wash his face over and over with it. She thought dish soap might actually work better, but wasn't sure it wouldn't also hurt his eyes. And since her phone was turned off and in a blanket in a box outside, she couldn't exactly look that up online to check.

"'I didn't mean to spray you. I'm so sorry about that. But also, fuck you, Brian!' Naomi yelled once Brian had begun to break down the hot oil that had been unleashed on his face and neutralized the pepper's painful effects. "'Fuck me? Seriously? What the hell did I do?' he asked. Naomi stared daggers into his still-crying eyes."

Seriously? The picture? The video? You couldn't just break up with me like a decent human being who's not a sociopath? You had to send me a video of you fucking that slut Summer? What? Brian screamed. Summer? I'm not fucking Summer. And you know I would never take a video like that, let alone send it. My God. But you did, Brian. Naomi screamed back. I didn't think you'd do that either. I didn't think anyone would do that. But you sent me the video. I fucking saw it. And now I can never unsee it, asshole.

Brian still having to squint, his eyes red and irritated and the skin around them blotchy and puffy, dug his phone out, opened it up to his text thread with Naomi and pointed at it. Look, Naomi, he showed her. No, I didn't. She did look and she couldn't believe what she was seeing. The last text she saw was from Brian. You got it, Wonder Woman. Be there in about 15 and possibly nothing after that.

No, no, this isn't right, Naomi muttered, near tears again herself. You must have just erased them or something. They're on my phone. Bullshit, said an increasingly angry Brian. Prove it. Show me. Naomi felt unsteady on her feet, like she was drunk. Fine, she said. Let me go grab it. Feeling more and more like she was losing her mind, Naomi walked out her back door, ignoring Brian when he asked, where are you going? I thought you were grabbing your phone.

She opened the box, unraveled the blanket, and found that her phone had been turned back on. Of course it had. She wasn't even surprised. Not anymore. She opened her text thread with Brian and then quickly had to set down on the step. The messages that had left her feeling sick were gone. The picture, the video, the breakup texts, all gone. What's happening? She sighed as she held the phone in both hands and stared at it. And then she started to break down and sob.

What's going on, Naomi? Brian said gently, the anger he felt having been almost totally replaced with concern for his crying girlfriend. A normally pretty unflappable strong woman currently sobbing and sitting on a concrete step behind her back door in front of an open box with a blanket inside where she'd hidden her phone like a crazy person. He sat down beside her and she told him everything.

From showing up at the home of Shane Dixon, to seeing all of the notes and the busted lights and busted phones and other electronic devices, to the harassing calls and the messages and photo and video from him that no longer existed. Brian didn't know how to respond. To say it was a lot to take in was a massive understatement. He was growing more concerned about Naomi's mental well-being by the second. At least she wasn't angry with him anymore.

She leaned into him and he put his arm around her and held her against his chest and lightly rubbed her back. Unknown caller. Brian and Naomi exchanged a concerned glance and then she answered and put the call on speakerphone. Silence. After about five seconds of silence, before Naomi hung up, they heard, "We will be suspending your social security number because we found some suspicious activity. If you want more information, press 1. Thank you." After that, the line went dead.

"God damn it!" Naomi yelled through gritted teeth in frustration. "To be very clear," she said after a deep sigh, "I know that was some robocall scam. That was not the voice of who has been harassing me." Ryan nodded. He wanted to believe Naomi, he really did. But by her own admission, she was the only one who had heard her supposed harasser. And even if some creep had called her, that still wouldn't explain how a video and a photo could show up on her phone from him that he had never sent and then disappear.

What she swore had happened just did not seem possible. He was very, very worried about her. Unknown caller. Again, Naomi answered and put the call on speakerphone. And again, after several seconds of silence, it was revealed to be another robocall.

This is Susie calling with the vehicle service department. We are calling about your vehicle's manufacturer's warranty. We sent you several notices in the mail that you have yet to extend your warranty past the factory cutoff. And this is a courtesy call to renew your warranty before we close the file. If you are interested in renewing your auto warranty now, please press 5 or press 9 to be removed from our list. And just like before, the line went dead. It's him, Naomi said with more certainty than Brian wanted to hear. He's fucking with me.

"'You think that the guy who called you earlier is also spamming you?' Brian carefully asked, in a tone that, despite his attempt to be gentle and empathetic, made it clear he thought all of this was in Naomi's head. She ignored that and said, "'Why not? If he could send me texts from somebody else's phone and then erase them on my phone, why couldn't he have my phone robocalled? Hackers can do all sorts of stuff.'"

Uh, yeah, not yet. That's a fair point. Brian replied, trying to hide the disbelief in his voice and not quite succeeding. I know how all this sounds, Naomi exclaimed. I'm not crazy. She shouted in a way that sounded absolutely, undeniably crazy. Naomi answered it immediately and quickly put it on speakerphone once more.

Hi, this is Daniel from Amazon Customer Service. We have seen a recent order number. AMZ0987, bill to your account for an iPhone 15 Pro. The amount charged is $1,499. We noticed some suspicious activity on your account, so we have... Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! Naomi yelled as she hung up the phone. I'm done with this for tonight. I need another drink.

She turned her phone off, wrapped it up in the blanket, not caring how unstable she looked while doing so, put the blanket back in the box, closed the box, and turned around to walk back inside. Brian made it clear with the expression on his face, also making sure she did not see his expression, that his girlfriend was going through some kind of breakdown. And then he followed her inside and had a strong drink with her. He also needed one.

Naomi woke up early the next morning with a headache, apologized to Brian for her extremely inflammatory accusations the night before,

told him that she'd be leaving her phone home until she got it fixed, made plans for him to come over that night, took a quick shower, and then headed to the police station to file a report about her harasser before going to work for the day. She left her phone closed up in the box. She at least brought it inside from the backyard before she left the house shortly after Brian left. And while she moved it, it rang the whole time. She decided she'd just have to leave it alone until the battery went dead. That would have to stop him.

Not even the world's best hacker could hack a phone if it didn't have any juice, right? And if after a few days that psycho was still calling her when she turned her phone back on, she decided she'd get a new number. Annoying, yes. But then she would be done with all this and could start putting it behind her. At least, that's what she told herself. She did her best to believe this story, even though there were a lot of problems with it. Like how he'd gotten her number in the first place.

and how he seemed to know when she was alone versus in the presence of someone else when he called just for starters. Still, she felt better driving to the precinct than she had the night before. Her situation sucked, but she was dealing with it. She had a plan. It felt good to take some control back, or at least to try to. But then mere seconds after she walked into the lobby, any positivity she felt was ripped out of her when the receptionist called out,

"'Is Naomi Howard here? "'You have a telephone call?' "'No,' Naomi thought. "'How? "'Is he following me? "'To the police station?' "'I'm Naomi,' she said hesitantly as she approached the receptionist's desk after scanning the room and looking for who she thought might be her stalker. "'It's your dad,' the woman said before handing her the phone. "'He said you'd lost your phone and that it was an emergency. "'Please be quick.' Naomi felt like she was dreaming again as she grabbed the phone and spoke into the receiver, hesitantly. "'Hello?'

Naomi, are you okay? Dad? Naomi said, feeling both relieved and extremely confused upon recognizing her father's voice. How did you know I'd be here? I didn't, he said. I couldn't get a hold of you on your phone or at work, so I tried calling police stations, thinking that, well, thinking you must have heard. Heard what? She asked, afraid of what the answer could be. Oh, her dad said before pausing. I guess, I guess you didn't hear. Hear what, dad? Naomi repeated.

Your mother, he said slowly, that she had been arrested. Arrested? Mom? For what? Naomi asked in utter disbelief. She couldn't imagine her mother doing anything illegal, let alone getting caught and arrested for it. This was the woman who wouldn't smoke a joint when they took a family trip to the Netherlands a few years back, even though weed was legal there, because she thought the TSA agents might make her take a drug test when she tried to fly home and then not let her return to the U.S. if she failed it.

For murder, Naomi. They arrested her for, my God, I hate to be the one telling you this, for shooting her parents this morning. What? Dad, grandma and grandpa are dead? No, mom would never do that. Is that what the police really told you? That's not what you think, is it? Naomi was in shock. She couldn't accept what she was hearing, what her life had become in less than 24 hours. There was a long, silent pause from her father and then laughter, but not her father's laughter.

the laughter of the man who had been harassing her, the unknown caller. "'Holy shit, you should see yourself, Naomi,' he joyfully exclaimed. "'I really got you. That was fun. Look around the lobby. Everyone is staring at you. No, your grandparents aren't dead. And your mom has not been arrested for killing anyone. But I'm sure I can arrange that. Maybe I will. Maybe I'll make you watch your family's lives all fall apart.'

"'Maybe I'll make you watch them die before I completely destroy you.' "'Yeah, I like that. "'If you make me mad, that is exactly what I'll do, Naomi.' "'He laughed again. "'Why are you doing this? "'Why are you threatening me?' "'Naomi asked, doing her best to stay somewhat calm "'in front of the receptionist, who was definitely watching her. "'Why me?'

Why not? The man scoffed. Definitely not because you're special. Because you're not, Naomi. I picked you because you were there. Have a nice chat with the detective. And with that, he hung up. Can you trace the call? Naomi quickly asked the receptionist as she handed her the phone. Naomi then proceeded to try and explain to the receptionist who the caller was and what they had just said. And when she was done, a detective was called to come speak with her. Detective Blaine McGrath.

the exact man the unknown caller had predicted. And also like he had predicted, it didn't look like Blaine would be able to help her. He informed her that an autopsy was currently being performed on the body of Shane Dixon, but that he was confident it would not reveal foul play. There had been no signs of trauma on his body and no signs of a break-in at his house. His wife just confirmed that nothing was stolen. A lot of stuff was destroyed, yes, but Mrs. Dixon said he had started breaking stuff even before she left the house when he refused to get help.

Based on his behavior in the days leading up to his death, Blaine felt 99.9% certain that Shane had had a mental breakdown and his deteriorating mental health had led directly to his death. As far as the calls went, he told Naomi that unknown caller calls were very difficult to trace and do anything with. He also asked her if maybe she had imagined most of what she said had happened. He pointed out how the receptionist had only heard her father. Her coworker and boyfriend had only heard robocallers.

He wondered if maybe seeing the condition of the man's house freaked her out so badly she was now having some kind of breakdown of her own, and he recommended she contact a therapist. He did say he would look into it, but Naomi highly doubted he would, and even if he did, she doubted he'd find anything.

Naomi left the precinct feeling much more worried than she'd felt when she'd walked in, more convinced that whoever had made Shane go crazy, or rather, whoever had made everyone else think that Shane was crazy, was after her now and doing the same thing, playing the same game, she thought, as she heard the unknown caller's distinctive laughter in her head. She chose not to share any of this with Dennis at work. When he asked, she said that she hadn't been called again, that it was just that one time.

She didn't tell him that she'd left her phone at home either. She wanted a break. She needed a break. While she couldn't stop thinking about the unknown caller, he was nearly all she could think about. She didn't want to add even more fuel to this already raging fire that she felt like was about to completely consume her. Naomi was also able to keep an incident that occurred outside of Starbucks from Dennis. It happened when they had stopped to grab coffee early in their shift.

Dennis had went inside to use the bathroom and pick up their drinks, and when he did, Naomi heard what looked like a homeless man's cell phone start to ring. The guy was sitting at a table outside, and directly after answering his phone and looking shocked and upset, he had started to walk towards her. He yelled, He asked her wild-eyed, He shouted,

Naomi did not like the way this guy had said he or how he knew her name. She got full body chills and felt her heartbeat start to quicken. After she looked around to see if anyone was watching them, she took the phone from the man who'd aggressively pushed it within inches of her face, and she heard the same distinctive laughter she had been hearing from the unknown caller. "'Peek-a-boo,' he said excitedly, like a child playing their favorite game. "'I see you, Naomi.'"

Getting rid of your phone won't stop this. It won't help you, just like it didn't help Shane. He still died in terror, you know that. You saw his face. And soon someone will see your dead, terrified face as well. Won't that be something? And then the game starts over, and I'll win again. It would be so boring to keep winning if it wasn't so much fun to watch you pathetic creatures unravel.

And then without Naomi pushing any buttons, the phone switched over to speakerphone, and the unknown caller commanded, Ronnie! Ronnie, get over here and take your fucking phone back now before I end her! Ronnie then snatched the phone away in a panic, put it to his ear, and after a few seconds, he started screaming wildly. No, no, you can't, don't hurt her! And then he threw his phone into the wall, sprinted away, and screamed some words Naomi couldn't make out.

What the hell happened to that guy? Dennis had asked as he walked out with two lattes, just in time to have heard the man start running after smashing his phone. I have no idea. Naomi had lied. Well, she had half lied. She knew the same man harassing her had said something to terrify this poor guy, Ronnie. But she truly didn't understand what the hell was happening. After a fairly normal day, other than that terrible incident that had left Naomi looking at virtually every man she didn't know and wondering if he was the unknown caller,

Naomi went home to an empty house. She had some chicken pad thai delivered from Uber Eats, was relieved to see a woman and not a man drop it off at her door. And she watched another episode of The Crown before she decided to check on her phone. She hadn't heard it ring at all since she'd been home.

She told herself that it had to be dead by now. The battery was already really low, somewhere around 30% the last time she checked it the previous night right before she put it in the box after those robocalls. Or rather, right before the unknown caller had impersonated some robocallers. She thought about plugging it in and turning it on, but she decided that it wouldn't be worth the risk of having her night ruined by more harassing calls or texts or videos or whatever else this insane but also very smart bastard could do.

How had he been doing everything, she'd been wondering. How did he make that sex video? Was AI and deepfake technology really that good? How had he mimicked her dad's voice, continually tracked her and been able to get the numbers of people she just happened to be near and called them as well? While Naomi pondered that, the lights in her house flickered off and back on. And then the TV flickered. And the episode she was watching changed.

With growing horror, Naomi now saw a shadowy entity in the back of the scene. Standing behind a young Princess Di in Buckingham Palace as she and Queen Elizabeth had a tense discussion. As the actresses continued to talk to one another, oblivious to the moving unnatural shadow behind them, it kept walking closer to the camera.

and the score changed. The dramatic instrumental music grew dark and heavy. The lighting began to change as well, steadily growing dimmer. Naomi was dumbfounded, mesmerized, and stared at the screen with her mouth wide open. Finally, Olivia Colman, the actress playing the Queen in Season 4, turned her head towards the camera, towards Naomi, and spoke directly to her. Where are your manners, you daft cunt? Are you not going to pay your respects? The unknown caller would like a word with you.

And then laughter. Not Queen Elizabeth's, but the shadow's. The shadow who was clearly the unknown caller. And after stopping laughing, with both Olivia Colman and Emma Corrin, the actress playing Princess Diana, now silent and staring at Naomi, the shadow began to speak. I told you, Naomi. I told you that you getting rid of your phone wouldn't stop this. It just annoys me. This is not how I'd prefer to play.

I think I'll just have to speed things along and be done with you if this is how you're going to behave. Naomi wanted to scream, but she couldn't. She wanted to shout, who are you? But now she knew that wasn't the right question. What are you would be correct. But did she really want to know what this thing was?

She'd started to cry without even realizing the tears were running down her cheeks. She couldn't have felt more helpless. All she could do was wait for Brian to come over. But really, what could he do other than just think she was crazy? What could anyone do? As the entity now on screen continued to taunt her, she noticed the sound of the microwave running and quickly stood up and walked into the kitchen where she saw that all of her stovetop burners were red as well. She turned them all off after stopping the microwave, but they just turned back on.

She turned them off again, and they immediately turned themselves back on again. Same with the microwave. So she unplugged them both. She then screamed in both fear and frustration when the cords started to move on their own and plugged themselves back in. She could hear the unknown caller laughing from the TV. She almost screamed, fuck you! But she was afraid to. What more could this thing, this obviously not human thing, do to her if she truly made it angry?

The microwave started to run again, as did the stove. She unplugged them both once more, and then she tore the microwave off of the wall and threw it onto the floor. She pulled on the stove and rocked it back and forth and moved it further away from the wall until she could rip out the cord.

All the while, she heard continuous laughter from the TV. The actresses were laughing now as well, and the music had swelled until the volume was maxed out. She ran back into the living room, and then even though she was afraid to go near the entity on or in the screen, she unplugged it. And when that cord tube began to snake its way towards its socket, she ripped on it and ripped on it and was able to tear it from the TV. After a few moments of silence, she could now hear laughing from her bedroom, from her laptop.

She ran in there and the shadowy unknown caller was on her screen. "Go ahead, Naomi," he roared. "Break it all! I'll still have plenty of more tricks up my sleeve." She slammed her laptop shut and ran with it into the kitchen, grabbing a big roll of masking tape out of a drawer and wrapping it around and around so it couldn't open and turn itself back on. She thought of anything else electronic this thing could access and nothing came to mind.

Then her lights started to flicker again. Off and on, off and on, off and on, over and over and over. She tried turning off all the switches, but just like she worried, that didn't help. She tried turning off the breakers, but that didn't help either. The thing tormenting her could just turn them back on. So she grabbed the baseball bat she kept under her bed, the one that had made her feel a bit safer living by herself, but didn't make her feel any safer at all now, and she started smashing out her lights. And as she did, now she started laughing.

But not a normal laugh. Of course not. The laugh of a person who was losing their fucking mind. How could she not be? And also the laugh of a person who knew that everyone else would be thinking that she'd already totally lost her mind when she hadn't. Not quite yet, anyway. She thought of Shane as she smashed things. How everything was busted up at his place. She wondered how many times this thing had done all of this before.

When all her lights were destroyed and her house was now completely dark, she went to the box and pulled out her phone. She fumbled her way into the bedroom, found the cord, plugged it in, and just sat there in the dark for a few minutes before it turned on. She wanted to talk to it now, to at least try and understand what it was, what it wanted. Was there anything at all she could give it to make it finally stop?

She thought of all the horror movies she'd seen over the years and hoped that if she could maybe find out what its name was, she could give that name to a priest or a spiritualist or someone. And then she laughed at the fact that this felt like an actually reasonable plan to her. She kept nervously laughing as she reflected on how quickly her life had become so insane and how much crazier it might still get. And then her phone came back to life.

Once it was on, the text notification button started to chime over and over and over and over and over in rapid succession. And as it kept making that noise, the number of unread texts she had kept climbing so many. The number quickly passed 100, then 200, then 300, and it continued to rapidly climb.

She opened her texting app and started to scroll. As she did, her laughter turned to crying. That motherfucker had sent odd, threatening, or otherwise concerning texts to literally everyone she knew. To acquaintances, to family, to coworkers, to friends, everyone in her contact list. It

It had told her friends horrible things she had said about them in text threads with other people they both knew. It had created more fake pictures and videos, some of them sexual and humiliating, and sent them to people like her brother and her parents and her grandparents. She had over 50 voicemails. She would have more if her mailbox hadn't have filled up. She had almost 200 missed calls.

My life is over, she told herself. My life is over. I'll never come back from this. How could I ever come back from this? She was beginning to feel truly hysterical, consumed with fear and panic. She was damn close to having a full psychotic break. And then her phone rang. Unknown caller. Naomi answered immediately and screamed as the thing laughed. What the fuck are you? What do you want from me? Ah, the thing mused after it stopped laughing. What, not who?

You're starting to figure things out a little, Naomi. Not that it'll help you. What do I want? Why, I want you to die. But first, I'm going to give you a chance to save your mom and dad's lives. What did you do to them? She hissed. You'll have to come talk to me to find out. The real me, Naomi. In person, so to speak. Naomi's blood ran cold. What was this thing going to do to her? Where are you? She asked.

Across the street, underneath the large oak tree, where it's nice and dark. Peek out and you can see me. Naomi walked over to the window in her living room and looked outside. Sure enough, she could see a shadow, a little darker than the darkness around it, standing underneath the tree. Hurry up, Naomi, the unknown caller said with a disturbing amount of glee in its voice. This offer won't stand for long. Come over and talk right now, or I'll make sure your parents are dead before you can warn them.

Naomi hesitated. She knew she shouldn't trust this thing, couldn't trust this thing. But what if it wasn't bluffing? Ten seconds, Naomi! It roared, and then it immediately began to count down. Ten, nine, eight. Okay! Naomi yelled as she began to quickly open the front door, and then, nearly getting run over in the process, she ran across the street. Four, three, two...

The thing continued to count. She arrived on the edge of the road, right next to where the shadow stood before it had reached zero. But then it disappeared. It just flickered out of sight. She worried she hadn't quite made it in time. She thought she for sure made it before it said one, but had she? Had it all been just a trick? She spun around in a circle as cars sped past her. And then there he was, right in front of her face, mere inches away. He had form, human form, but was virtually featureless.

He looked like he was composed of black tendrils of thick, swirling smoke. Suddenly, the thing roared, and as it did, a face formed in the smoke. A devil's face minus the cartoonish goatee and cheesy grin. The face of a horned monster. A thin, human, skullish face. A face of death and horror, but with wide, alert eyes that were so very, very alive. Naomi instinctively backed away from the monster, and before she...

The driver of the Range Rover never even saw her before he ran her over. She'd been standing in front of a parked car, out of sight in the dark beneath the tree. And then right as he was speeding past her, she had jumped directly in front of him. And within seconds, her mangled body was behind him. The force of the initial impact had slammed her into the ground, fracturing her skull and breaking her neck amongst several other bones.

And if that wouldn't have killed her, which it did, she would have died when her head and neck were then run over by his front tires. The driver, again, never saw her before he hit her. And he never saw the shadowy thing that scared her, not at all. He never heard it either. By the time he stopped and got out of his car, it had stopped laughing, and it was hiding, watching, and waiting nearby. About 45 minutes later, Detective Blaine McGrath showed up at the scene. Naomi was wrong.

He hadn't thought she was crazy. Not necessarily. He was more concerned about her harasser than he had let on. He just didn't want to risk tipping his hand to whoever was possibly tormenting her. Something was going on. Blaine just didn't quite understand what it was yet.

Shane Dixon had spoken with him shortly before he had died, and he had said a lot of the same kinds of things. And before Shane, another detective he knew had spoken with Marissa Lynn, a woman who had drowned in the river a day after saying she was being harassed in ways that didn't seem possible. Shane had been the one to find Marissa's body.

And Marissa, just a few days before she died, had been one of the first few people to find the dead body of her sister, who had taken her own life after making the same kinds of claims. Blaine was starting to think maybe she hadn't killed herself, or at least not in the way her family thought. All these deaths were connected. Someone was harassing them, of that Blaine was certain. But were they also killing them in a way he could prove?

That was what he was currently working on when Naomi had spoken with him. And now she was dead too. And now... Unknown Caller. Blaine got a few spam calls every day and ever since he had been looking into the string of deaths, they'd begun to make him very nervous. He sent it to voicemail. And it started to ring again immediately. Unknown Caller. He sent it to voicemail once more. And set his phone to do not disturb. Unknown Caller. Shit. Yet again, he sent it to voicemail.

and now put his phone into airplane mode. Unknown caller. He stared at his phone with a mixture of disbelief and dread. Could everything these people had been saying before they died be true? The phrase, curiosity killed the cat, floated into his mind as he answered the call. And then just like countless others before him, he heard the sound of laughter before the unknown caller spoke. It's your turn, Blaine. Are you ready to play?

And that's it for this edition of Nightmare Fuel. Maybe we'll do a sequel to this one if you guys want it. I think there's more story here to tell. I hope you were horrified by today's tale of Unknown Caller. Today's tale was written by me, Dan Cummins, and scored by Logan Keith. If you enjoyed this story, check out the rest of the Bad Magic Productions catalog. Time Suck every Monday at noon Pacific time, with little short sucks on some Fridays, and these Nightmare Fuel episodes on some Fridays as well.

and new episodes of the now long-running Paranormal Podcast, Scared to Death, with my excellent co-host, Lindy Cummins, every Tuesday at midnight. Please go to badmagicproductions.com for all your bad magic needs, including all show-related merch, and stay scared. Bad Magic Productions.

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