The Disconnected Voice: Short Creepy Story

David’s phone buzzed on the table next to his bed, shattering the silence of the early morning. The screen lit up, flashing an unknown number. He rolled over, groaning, and swiped the notification away. The voicemail icon lingered on the screen, but he ignored it, turning his attention to his morning routine.

It wasn’t until that night, when he finally collapsed on the couch after a long day, that he remembered the message. With a sigh, he opened the voicemail app, playing it through the speaker as he leaned back, rubbing his temples.

“Hey, David.” A pause. “You had eggs for breakfast this morning. Scrambled, with a little too much pepper.”

David froze, his eyes darting to the phone. He didn’t recognize the voice, but it was calm, almost familiar. He hadn’t told anyone what he ate for breakfast, not even his girlfriend, who was out of town for the week.

“You stopped by that little coffee shop on 7th Street after work. Ordered a black coffee, no sugar.”

His heart rate picked up. The day had played out exactly like that. But how could anyone know? His phone was always on him, and he hadn’t been followed. His mind raced for an explanation, but before he could think further, the voicemail ended with a soft click.

Shaking it off, David went to bed, convincing himself it was a strange prank or some kind of coincidence. But as the days passed, the messages kept coming—each one more unsettling than the last.

The second voicemail described his interactions at work in eerie detail, from mundane small talk with his colleagues to the exact words he’d muttered under his breath when his boss reprimanded him for being late. The voice, though still unknown, carried a tone of familiarity that sent shivers down David’s spine.

He listened to another message while driving home a few days later. The voice, calm and measured, spoke directly into his ears.

“You’re wearing that old jacket you haven’t worn in years. The one your mother gave you. Do you still miss her, David?”

The sound of his mother’s name hit him like a punch to the gut. She had passed away years ago, but this voice knew things no one else could. David’s hands trembled as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

“And you were thinking about calling her today, weren’t you? Even though she’s gone, you still feel that urge. That loneliness.”

David pulled over, his breath coming in short gasps. He fumbled for his phone, his hands shaking as he tried to delete the message. But the voice kept going, creeping into the very corners of his mind.

“She used to tell you everything would be okay, that you were strong enough. But you don’t believe that anymore, do you?”

The voicemail ended abruptly, leaving only the sound of David’s ragged breathing filling the car.

That night, he didn’t sleep.

The next day, he went straight to the police, clutching his phone like a lifeline. The officer behind the desk listened politely as David explained the situation, but the look in his eyes told him everything. There was no real crime here. Just some unknown number leaving eerie messages. They told him to block the number and try to relax.

So, David blocked the number.

But the messages didn’t stop.

The next one came from a different unknown number, and this time, it was worse. The voice was darker, more sinister. David sat at his kitchen table, staring down at his phone as the words echoed through the speaker.

“I’m watching you right now. You’re sitting alone, eating takeout from that Chinese place around the corner. And you’re wondering who I am.”

David’s heart hammered in his chest as he scanned the room, his eyes darting to the windows. His blinds were drawn, but that didn’t ease the panic creeping up his spine.

“I can see you, David. I’ve always seen you. Every moment, every mistake.”

David jumped from his chair, pacing the room. His thoughts were spiraling, frantic. Who could know this much? Who could be this close without him realizing?

“And I think it’s time you understood something.” The voice paused, and for the first time, David noticed something—something that made his skin crawl.

The voice sounded like his own. Not exactly, but close. Close enough to make his chest tighten with dread.

“I’m not just watching you, David. I am you.”

David froze, his mind reeling. It wasn’t possible. This was some elaborate joke. But deep down, he knew. He could feel it, a gnawing certainty that this voice, this presence, was something more than just a prankster.

“You’re confused, I know,” the voice continued, a mocking edge creeping into the tone. “You’re wondering how this could be. But here’s the truth: I’m you, from somewhere else. A different life. A different world.”

David’s mouth went dry. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think straight.

“In my world, things are darker. You… you didn’t make the right choices. You let things fall apart. But here’s the thing, David. Our worlds—they’re coming together. They’re colliding.”

David stumbled back, knocking his chair over. This couldn’t be happening. It was insane. But the voice didn’t stop.

“There’s only room for one of us, David. Only one of us can survive.”

David’s knees gave out, and he collapsed against the wall, shaking his head in disbelief. He had to be losing his mind. This was impossible.

But the messages kept coming, each one more twisted than the last. The voice began describing events before they happened—predicting his every move. When David turned to lock the door, the voice would calmly state, “You’re locking the door now, as if that will keep me out.”

When he tried to leave town for a few days, the voice followed him, taunting him with chilling accuracy about his surroundings, the people he passed on the street, even the thoughts that flickered in his mind.

The final message came late one night, when David was at his breaking point. He hadn’t slept in days, the constant barrage of messages fraying his nerves to the edge. He played the voicemail with trembling hands, knowing it was the last straw.

“David,” the voice whispered, softer now, almost soothing. “It’s time. You know what’s coming. Our worlds are merging, and only one of us can make it.”

David’s breath hitched, his mind racing. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t run, couldn’t hide. This… other version of himself was everywhere.

“I’m close now, David. So close. But you can still fight. You can still try.”

David stood, his body trembling, as the voice continued.

“But here’s the thing. The only way to survive this… is to destroy the other.”

The weight of the words hit him like a sledgehammer. The only way to live was to kill the other version of himself. His heart raced, and the room seemed to close in around him. He wanted to scream, to break free from this nightmare.

But then, from the shadows of his apartment, a figure emerged.

David’s breath caught in his throat as he stared into the face of his other self—a twisted, hollow-eyed version of him. The same face, the same features, but darker, broken, with a malevolent grin stretching across its face.

“Only one of us gets to stay,” it whispered, voice matching the one on the phone.

David lunged for the kitchen, grabbing the first thing he could find—a knife. His hands shook, heart pounding in his chest, but he knew what had to be done. It was him or this… thing.

The figure moved closer, slowly, with deliberate steps. “Do you think you can win, David? Do you really think you can stop me?”

David screamed and charged, the knife raised high.

The last thing he heard before everything went black was his own voice, laughing—low and cold, echoing through the empty apartment.

When David awoke, he was standing in the middle of his apartment, covered in blood. The other version of himself lay on the floor, motionless.

But when he looked into the mirror, he didn’t recognize the man staring back at him.

The voice on the phone had been right. Only one version could survive.

And it wasn’t him.

Want to read a bit more? Find some more of my writings here-

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