The Call That Came From My Own Number:

It became a quiet nighttime, the kind Karachi not often offers. The metropolis’s regular chaos — honking cars, stressed vendors, and the hum of generators — had softened into a unprecedented lull. I sat by using the window, scrolling through my cellphone, when it rang. nothing uncommon, besides for the caller identity.

It turned into my personal wide variety.

at first, I thought it changed into a glitch. Networks here are notorious for bizarre hiccups. but the longer I stared on the screen, the chillier my hands became. My variety. My call. My telephone calling me.

I hesitated, torn between interest and dread. towards my better judgment, I replied.

Silence.

Now not the sort of silence you get when a name drops, but a heavy, deliberate silence. I ought to pay attention faint static, like a person breathing via a broken radio. My coronary heart pounded. I whispered, “howdy?”

That’s after I heard it.

My personal voice.

It wasn’t a recording. It wasn’t an echo. It changed into me — speakme from some other place, somewhere I couldn’t see. The voice stated my call, slowly, as though trying out it. Then it laughed.

I froze. The chuckle become hole, stretched, almost mocking. It become my snigger, but twisted.

“Why are you answering?” the voice asked.

I couldn’t reply. My throat tightened, my thoughts racing. became this a few cruel prank? A hacker? A glitch? however deep down, I knew it wasn’t technical. It was something else. something that shouldn’t exist.

The voice persisted, “You shouldn’t be here tonight.”

I slammed the phone close, my palms trembling. but the name didn’t give up. The display stayed lit, the timer ticking. The voice whispered once more, “you can’t hang up on yourself.”

I dropped the phone onto the table, backing away as though it had been alive. The room felt smaller, the shadows heavier. I wanted to scream, but fear pinned me down.

Then the lighting fixtures flickered.

The whole condo plunged into darkness. I stood frozen, the glow of my smartphone the most effective mild. the decision became nevertheless active. My voice — or something it turned into — hummed softly, like a lullaby.

I forced myself to pick out up the phone again. “What do you want?” I whispered.

the answer chilled me. “To remind you.”

“ring a bell in me of what?”

The voice chuckled. “Of the night time you forgot.” reminiscences I had buried clawed their way returned. Years ago, throughout any other blackout, I had ignored a name from a chum. Hours later, I discovered he were in an coincidence. He didn’t live to tell the tale. I had carried the guilt quietly, never speaking of it.

Now, my personal voice changed into dragging it again into the light.

“You didn’t solution then,” it stated. “so that you ought to answer now.”

Tears welled in my eyes. “who're you?”

“I’m the a part of you that recollects,” it spoke back. “The component you may’t silence.” the road crackled, and , I heard footsteps. no longer thru the smartphone — in my rental. sluggish, planned, drawing close. I spun around, however the room become empty. still, the sound grew louder, closer.

I pressed the phone to my ear. “forestall!”

The voice whispered, “you can’t forestall yourself.” The footsteps halted. Silence lower back, heavier than before. Then, with out warning, the call ended. The display screen went black.

The lights flickered back on. The condo was normal again. No footsteps. No voice. just me, status on my own, clutching a cellphone that felt heavier than it need to.

I checked the decision log. There it became: a 17-minute call from my own number. No neglected calls, no information of outgoing. just that one not possible entry. For days, I couldn’t sleep. each ring made me draw back, every shadow felt alive. i finished answering unknown numbers, terrified that in the future, it would be me once more. but the strangest component?

Sometimes, when I scroll via my contacts, I see a replica access. My call, my wide variety, indexed twice. I delete it, however it usually returns.

And on every occasion I study it, I keep in mind the voice: you can’t cling up on yourself.