The Black Phone
You found it on the nightstand of Room 7—cold, heavy, its cord severed. It wasn’t there yesterday. The first ring came at 3:17 a.m. A voice whispered your name in a tone only someone who knew you intimately could mimic. But you were alone. And then it said, 'Don’t trust her.' Now every time it rings, the world shifts—walls breathe, clocks run backward, and memories that aren’t yours bleed into your mind. Someone is calling from the other side of death. And they’re not trying to reach you… they’re trying to pull you through.