Creepy Phone Numbers Novels & Stories

“I don’t have much. Actually, all I have is a phone number.” Julie slides forward on her chair and rests her arms on the table. “I would be the first one to march over to Dale and put him in his place, but I don’t know if a phone number is enough. Where did you get it from?” Zack pipes up. “From the rogue’s call log. Somehow the phone and any information on it have gone missing, but I have excellent memory. I had scrolled through it before handing it over to my brother. I provided Bry with all the numbers on it, including the one number which was called the most. The last four digits are 9912.”

He scrolls to where the document is and opens it. All I see is the financial dashboard of SPECTRA TECH INC. “What am I looking at?” “Look at this—” Rings from my phone on my desk interrupts. “Why did you leave your phone in your desk? It has been ringing.” Scott passes me my phone. “Thank you.” 6 missed calls from an unknown number. Who the hell is this? The number calls again and I answer immediately. “Hello.” “Hello, please is this Miss Selena?” “Yes it is. How may I help you?”

After he'd fallen asleep earlier, exhausted from patrols, I'd slipped into his room and taken it from his jacket pocket. Guilt gnawed at me but it wasn't enough to stop me at least not anymore. I locked my bedroom door and sat on the floor. The phone's screen illuminated the darkness. A list of recent calls appeared. Most were numbers without names. But one contact stood out. "CR" The same initials that had haunted my thoughts ever since I'd found them. My pulse quickened. Slowly, I pulled the Kingshade letter from my pocket. At the bottom was a contact number.

I still had mysophobia, but I'd learned to make peace with myself. One day, I was sitting in my studio, sketching out ideas for a new collection, when my phone rang. It was an unknown number. The caller identified himself as someone from a police station in one of the suburbs. "Is this Mr. Bruno Keaton? We have an unclaimed body here. We found your contact information among her personal effects." My hand stilled, and the pen dragged a long, dark streak across the paper.

Anna walked out as she impatiently stared at her. "What on the earth are you reading not answering your phone ?", Ann shouted as Adi closed her book and stared at the phone. She didn't have any notification. "I don't have any notifica...", Before she completed her sentence she stared again at the phone something felt odd. she unlocked the phone to see the phone was same. She still felt something was amiss she pressed the contact list to see some Alien list of names and Numbers. The list was unique had unique names. "Stupid 1, Stupid 2, Restricted Number, Don't answer...", This way the names of the contacts were written.

In an isolated hallway—he is stepping up to the nursing station to bring the requested medicines. As of the moment, his phone is vibrating. He blinks twice because no one knows his number except his Mom and Grandmother. His body is trembling in fear. . . fear that he never felt this time around. He breathes deep and exhales loudly. He pulls out his phone from the pocket, and his eyes widen when he reads a message from an unknown number. From: Unknown [Hello, would you like to join my newly launched application named CAM?] His head is confused and full of uncertainty. His hands are shaking when he doesn't know what to reply.

Feeling defeated, I pulled out the bills and started counting it up. A small piece of white paper floated from amongst the green. I easily picked it out and opened the folds, studying it carefully. I stepped into the car headlights to read the paper. Nothing is as it seems. 6415554895. A shiver read down my spine as I stared at the number. It was ten digits… a phone number? What kind of person would leave that behind in the place a map was supposed to be? But more importantly, how did they know it was there?

And that’s when I saw it. Sitting on a small dresser near the bed: a landline phone. Black, old, with a rotary dial. My heart raced. My legs buckled, but I walked towards it. I grabbed it, as if it were the last buoy before drowning. My fingers trembled. I still remembered the number by heart. How could I forget? I had dialed it my whole life. 0-2-2… 91… 38… 06. One beep. Two. Three.

“Tell me why downtown suddenly feels like the world’s most haunted Apple Store.” No one answered. My phone buzzed violently again. Unknown Number. A cold feeling settled into my stomach instantly. I declined the call. The phone rang again immediately. Unknown Number. Then again. Again. Again. Five consecutive calls. Jade glanced back. “That seems deeply unhealthy.” I answered before I could rethink it. Silence greeted me. Then breathing. Slow. Measured. Not human breathing. Too steady. “Who is this?” For a moment, nothing. Then a woman’s voice spoke softly:

I sit up and frown at the screen. No contact photo. Just a grey circle and a random number I don’t recognize. **Me: you again? Who’s this? A few seconds pass. **Unknown Number:Someone who noticed you’re always online around this hour. Weird. **Me:Okay… creepy much? **Unknown Number:Sorry. Not trying to be. I just thought you might want someone to talk to. I hesitate. For all I know, this could be some troll, but something about the tone feels different. Calm. Soft.