It Calls Me And No One Knows Novels & Stories

Perhaps the biggest one yet. Who sent the message? I reached for the phone. Checked the number. Nothing familiar. No saved contact. No identifying information. Just a number. Anonymous. Which immediately made me uncomfortable. Elara apparently felt the same. "Can you call it?" I nodded. Already trying. The call connected. Rang once. Twice. Three times. Then voicemail. No name. No personalized greeting. Nothing. Just a generic automated message. I hung up. The silence returned. Heavier now.

Went crazy? I replied, "No way. They don't actually care about me." My friend responded almost instantly. "Right? But from what I heard, they've been desperately trying to reach you." I nodded, finally realizing the reason behind the flood of unknown calls I'd been receiving lately. I never had the habit of answering calls from unknown numbers, so I always just ignored them. Had those calls been from Brandon and my family? Just as I was mulling it over, another call from an unknown number popped up on my screen. I hesitated for a moment but decided to answer it.

A peaceful sound sleep. The next day I have been to busy to even give anything a second thought, I kept recieving a call from an unknown number, which I never picked up. So when Keegan came over that same night, my phone were still ringing off the hook with the same unknown number, I told Keegan the person have been calling me since this morning and it might be a spam. But he felt there's only one way to find out, so he picked it up.But the moment he picked up the call and said his name the person ended the call. So I had no idea who this person was, I put it out of my mind the rest of the night as me and Keegan watched a comedy movie and I couldn't stop laughing.

I walked toward the kitchen to get a glass of water. A loud ringing sound broke the silence. The sharp noise startled me. It came from the pocket of my jacket. Reaching inside, I pulled my phone out. I stared at the bright screen. The display did not show a disconnected signal. It did not show Michael's normal contact name or his official team picture. Large white letters flashed across the glass. Unknown Number. My thumb hovered over the green button. People rarely called from unknown numbers unless it was a campus emergency or a spam call. The ringing continued, demanding an answer.

My brows were furrowed as I looked at the unknown number on the screen but nevertheless, I answered the call. “Hello?” I placed my phone by my ear. But no one replied. “This is Ms. Knights speaking, may I know who’s on the line please?” I tried once more, thinking that the person who might be calling me right now had something important to tell me. Only a few people knew my number and of course it included staffs in our company. So it was possible someone was calling me for business matters. But seconds has passed, and no one still answered from the other line, I only heard a grunt before the call ended.

It originates from an account that has no profile image, no username—just a sequence of random digits. A shiver travels down my back. The message isn't aimed at anyone in particular, yet there’s something about it that feels… intimate. Could it be connected to the text I received? Before I can think, my phone buzzes. An incoming call. Unknown number. My heart skips a beat. For a second, I consider ignoring it. But then my curiosity—and paranoia—wins. I press answer. Silence. “Hello?” I say, my voice careful. More silence.

I ignored it again, grinding the cigarette out against the balcony railing, flicking the butt over the edge. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. I growled under my breath. The only person stupid enough to keep calling me was either my mother or Jonas. Neither option appealed to me enough to answer… Still, reached into my pocket and pulled the phone out with irritation. Unknown Number? There was no name, no contact photo, and digits that I didn't recognize. A chill crept down my spine. Who the hell…? Another buzz. A message came in this time. I opened it.

Today I'm thankful for the opportunity to keep doing the things I wasn't physically able to right after the surgery. Just as I finish, the phone on the counter rings. It's not often customers place call-in orders, but I'm happy for anything I can get today. Rushing to the phone, I notice it's an unknown number with a Chicago area code. That's odd, but it could also be one of my friends or a member of my family. "A Whole Latte Love, Eden speaking." No one says anything. "Eden speaking, can I help you?" "No." Just the one word and then the call disconnects.

Just then, a notification pinged on my phone—a message from an unknown number. My heart raced as I opened it, revealing a single line: "You don’t know the whole story about Ryan." My breath caught in my throat. Who was this? What did they know? I felt a chill run down my spine, and my instincts screamed that I was on the brink of uncovering something monumental. I quickly texted back, demanding to know who they were, but the response was immediate: "Meet me at the café on 5th at noon. Bring no one." The clock ticked ominously as I weighed my options, torn between fear and the desperate need for answers.

The first call came three days after Clara went off-grid, and she was in the bunker's command center when her secure phone buzzed with an unfamiliar number. The caller ID showed a local area code, but the number wasn't registered to anyone she knew. She let it ring once, twice, three times, watching the screen with cold curiosity as the name "UNKNOWN" flashed in bright white letters against the dark background. On the fourth ring, she answered but said nothing, waiting in complete silence.