The following is my submission to a prompt from the r/WritingPrompts subreddit. The full Reddit post can be seen here.
Prompt: You were on a call with a friend when you started hearing the voices, screaming, and laughter of children playing in the background. Upon asking your friend who's voices you were hearing, your friend went eerily silent. After a moment, they shakily asked "...you...you can hear them, too?"
____________________________________________________________________________
All of a sudden, the line went silent and the call dropped.
What the hell was that? I stared down at my phone, making sure that I had not accidentally hung up. A knot of dread twisted in my stomach. I frantically dialed my friend back.
“Please pick up, please pick up,” I begged as the line rang three times. Finally, someone answered.
It was the voice of a child, “Jenny can’t play right now, she’s busy.” The line went dead again.
“No, no, no!” I shouted into the phone. I scrambled to find my car keys and a jacket and ran out of the house. I hopped into the car and reversed quickly out of the driveway, knocking over one of my trash cans. I put the car in drive and sped away towards Jenny’s house.
The roads were empty. A light misty rain fell from the sky, creating a hazy fog as the last light of day disappeared.
“This can’t be happening,” I said in an effort to calm myself down. Eleven years had passed. I was told they would never return.
I raced down the highway, pushing the speed limit, knowing that every minute counted. Just as I was about to get off of the exit, my phone rang. The caller ID said Jenny. I picked it up.
“Hello, Jenny is this you?”
The child’s voice answered back, “We told you Jenny’s busy. Don’t try to come here. There’s nothing you can do now.”
“You stay away from her!” I demanded, a panic now started to set in. I pressed on the gas pedal, pulling into the neighborhood where Jenny lived.
Everything seemed to happen in a blur. Houses, trees, and streetlights raced past as I rushed to get to Jenny’s house. I pulled into her driveway and hopped out of the car, leaving the car door open.
With blind urgency, I stumbled to the front door, pushed on the handle, but it didn’t budge. Locked. I pounded on the door, yelling, “Jenny, if you’re in there let me in!”
I waited about 20 seconds, then decided to try the back door. I ran around the side of the house, onto the back porch. The back sliding door was slightly ajar.
Terrified, I stepped into the void of the unlit house, my eyes strained to pierce the darkness, feeling my way forward in the shadows.
“Hello,” I yelled, “Jenny, are you here?” Nobody answered.
I cautiously entered the kitchen, searching for the nearest light switch. When I flipped it on, nothing happened, leaving me in the dark.
I took a few more steps into the hallway connected to the kitchen. Finally, I heard a loud thump coming from the basement.
I turned my phone’s flashlight on, opened the basement door, and started down the steps. I breathed in short, shallow gasps. Fear enveloped me.
When I made it to the bottom of the steps, what stood before me sent chills down my spine.
Three small children stood staring back at me. Finally, the child in the middle, a boy of maybe ten years of age, spoke first.
“We’ve been waiting for you…”
.png)
The following is my submission to a prompt from the r/WritingPrompts subreddit. The full Reddit post can be seen here.
Prompt: You were on a call with a friend when you started hearing the voices, screaming, and laughter of children playing in the background. Upon asking your friend who's voices you were hearing, your friend went eerily silent. After a moment, they shakily asked "...you...you can hear them, too?"
____________________________________________________________________________
All of a sudden, the line went silent and the call dropped.
What the hell was that? I stared down at my phone, making sure that I had not accidentally hung up. A knot of dread twisted in my stomach. I frantically dialed my friend back.
“Please pick up, please pick up,” I begged as the line rang three times. Finally, someone answered.
It was the voice of a child, “Jenny can’t play right now, she’s busy.” The line went dead again.
“No, no, no!” I shouted into the phone. I scrambled to find my car keys and a jacket and ran out of the house. I hopped into the car and reversed quickly out of the driveway, knocking over one of my trash cans. I put the car in drive and sped away towards Jenny’s house.
The roads were empty. A light misty rain fell from the sky, creating a hazy fog as the last light of day disappeared.
“This can’t be happening,” I said in an effort to calm myself down. Eleven years had passed. I was told they would never return.
I raced down the highway, pushing the speed limit, knowing that every minute counted. Just as I was about to get off of the exit, my phone rang. The caller ID said Jenny. I picked it up.
“Hello, Jenny is this you?”
The child’s voice answered back, “We told you Jenny’s busy. Don’t try to come here. There’s nothing you can do now.”
“You stay away from her!” I demanded, a panic now started to set in. I pressed on the gas pedal, pulling into the neighborhood where Jenny lived.
Everything seemed to happen in a blur. Houses, trees, and streetlights raced past as I rushed to get to Jenny’s house. I pulled into her driveway and hopped out of the car, leaving the car door open.
With blind urgency, I stumbled to the front door, pushed on the handle, but it didn’t budge. Locked. I pounded on the door, yelling, “Jenny, if you’re in there let me in!”
I waited about 20 seconds, then decided to try the back door. I ran around the side of the house, onto the back porch. The back sliding door was slightly ajar.
Terrified, I stepped into the void of the unlit house, my eyes strained to pierce the darkness, feeling my way forward in the shadows.
“Hello,” I yelled, “Jenny, are you here?” Nobody answered.
I cautiously entered the kitchen, searching for the nearest light switch. When I flipped it on, nothing happened, leaving me in the dark.
I took a few more steps into the hallway connected to the kitchen. Finally, I heard a loud thump coming from the basement.
I turned my phone’s flashlight on, opened the basement door, and started down the steps. I breathed in short, shallow gasps. Fear enveloped me.
When I made it to the bottom of the steps, what stood before me sent chills down my spine.
Three small children stood staring back at me. Finally, the child in the middle, a boy of maybe ten years of age, spoke first.
“We’ve been waiting for you…”
