Haunted Numbers Novels & Stories

The error tone sounded almost like mockery. I clenched my fists, feeling frustration and fear twist together in my chest. Everything had worked perfectly when I registered my fingerprints in the admin department. Why did it fail the moment I reached the clock-in machine? Was I really about to relive the same nightmare as my last life? While I stood there frozen, several coworkers glanced over. A few even stepped forward kindly, asking if I needed help. As I watched them gather, an idea formed in my mind. I apologized timidly. "I am the new hire, Emma Lane. I'm sorry to bother you, but the fingerprint scanner just won't recognize me."

The visual image of tears only fuelled their sadistic hearts. When the super chat counter went down by three, the hidden patrons started surfacing, adding additional minutes of post-orgasm torture as their form of support to Queenie, who was finally forced to tie both hands to the reins of her rocking horse. Fully bound to the customised swing and entirely at the mercy of virtual sugar daddies, London briefly glanced at the super chat counter at the bottom left of her screen that indicated twenty-three. Five minutes have passed since the stream was meant to end. However, London didn’t feel optimistic as the number rose again on the counter.

This wasn’t just someone trying to scare her. Whoever was behind this… They were watching her closely. And they were dangerous. — Across the city. Inside the Hale mansion. Adrian stood in his study while Daniel waited beside the desk. “Sir, we traced the numbers that contacted Mrs. Hale.” Adrian looked up. “And?” “They’re all unregistered prepaid numbers.” Adrian’s expression darkened. “Disposable phones,” Daniel added. “Someone is being careful.” Adrian slowly leaned back in his chair. His mind immediately started connecting pieces.

And at the top of the screen, a new, unwelcome addition blared in stark, scarlet numerals: a countdown timer. 71:39:17 Each descending number was a silent, mocking heartbeat, a testament to the Auditor's chilling efficiency. Lorian hadn’t declared war with a roar; he had done it with a quiet, irrefutable mathematical formula, turning the very lifeblood of the city into a weapon aimed at its own heart.

The real nightmare would begin when the greater haunts came. I could not waste a second, so I floored it downtown. The streets were a horror show of limbs and shattered skulls. Bloated haunts, stuffed from their feasts, snored as they floated in the air. When my car suddenly died, I stepped out and, with a wave of my hand, summoned the nearest haunt, slapping a cool million in gold coins into its palm. "Get me downtown, pronto." The haunt, grinning ear to ear, nearly lost its head, literally. It slapped its head back on and, turning into a dark mist, whisked me away to the city's heart.

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His voice pulsates in excitement. At once a man appears in front of him out of no where, as soon as Benjamin opens the gates of the haunted house. "Do not go there. It is just an illusion." A man in a long coat with no limbs flying in air appeared in front of him. "It is the evil spirit which is calling you." He warned him. But Benjamin did not care for his words. On a trance he continued to walk ahead towards the mansion. "Our phones are dead. I need to call somebody for help. My wife is laying there unconscious." He points to his broken car.