The Device That Didn’t Belong—And the Call From the Djinn

We didn’t plan to get lost.

It was just a weekend forest hike with friends.

Laughs, photos, snacks, and the thrill of being away from the noise of city life. But by nightfall, the trees looked less friendly. The trail signs disappeared. And the silence… started to feel unnatural.

That’s when I found the device.

A strange object, unlike anything I had seen before. Small, black, and warm to the touch. It looked like a phone, but with no buttons, no screen, no symbols.

We thought it was weird.

We didn’t know it was dangerous.

We had no idea it belonged to something not of this world.

🌒 The Forest’s Secret

It was around 10:45 p.m. when we realized we were off the map.

Phone batteries were dying. GPS was frozen. We tried retracing steps, but every tree looked like the last.

That’s when I spotted something glowing near a fallen log.

I dug a little — and there it was.

A black, seamless device. One small red light blinking like a heartbeat. I picked it up.

It vibrated once.

The red light turned blue.

And for a second… I heard a whisper.

Too quick to understand.

Too real to ignore.

ل

🏠 Home Again

We eventually found our way out.

No one wanted to talk about the device. They joked about it, nervously, but deep down, we all felt something was wrong with it.

I brought it home. Why? I still don’t know. Curiosity, maybe. Or something more.

I placed it on my desk.

For hours, nothing happened.

Then, at 2:03 a.m., it rang.

No ringtone. Just a low, vibrating hum that shook the table.

There was no caller ID — just a strange string of numbers, long and distorted, like it belonged to nowhere.

I answered.

📞 The Prisoner’s Voice?

“Finally,” the voice said.

Male. Calm. Deep.

With a strange accent that felt old, yet familiar.

“You picked it up. That means it’s begun.”

I asked, “Who is this?”

A pause.

“You have the device. That means I can reach you. I’ve been trapped too long.”

“Where are you calling from?” I asked.

“Middleton Correctional Facility. Cell 43-B. But don’t trust that.”

Then, a low chuckle.

“They think I’m a prisoner. They think they can hold me.”

His voice dropped to a whisper:

“But I’ve never been one of them.

🫥 The Shift

Something in my stomach twisted.

His words… were calm. But unnatural. Like they echoed inside me.

“I used to live in the forests,” he said. “Before they built their roads. Before they gave names to things. I belonged to the winds and the shadows.”

My mouth went dry.

“What are you?”

Another silence.

Then:

> “Some call us djinn.

Some call us watchers.

Some never live long enough to call us anything.”

🔗 The Warning

“You weren’t supposed to touch the device,” he said.

“But now you have. And now the veil is thinner.”

“What do you want from me?” I asked.

He laughed — soft, bone-chilling.

“I already have it. Your fear. Your attention. Your belief.”

The blue light turned red again. The device grew warm in my hand.

“You’ll start seeing things now,” he whispered.

“In reflections. In dreams. In the corners of your room when you think you’re alone.”

Then the line cut.

🕯️ After the Call

I stared at the device.

Then it… faded.

I don’t mean it turned off.

I mean it literally faded — became transparent, then vanished like dust.

I tried to sleep, but I kept waking up every hour, certain someone was standing at the foot of my bed.

No one was there.

But the room smelled faintly… of smoke and earth.

👁️ What Came After

The next few days were worse.

I began hearing footsteps in my hallway — soft and wet.

Whispers from inside my closet.

My phone rang once — with no number — and when I answered, I heard breathing.

That same inhuman breathing.

I tried looking up “Middleton Correctional Facility.” It exists — but there is no Cell 43-B. And no record of any inmate who spoke to me.

Because, of course… he wasn’t an inmate.

🎯 Final Thoughts

We all think djinn belong in stories.

In fire. In ancient deserts.

Not in cold, blinking technology.

But what if they’ve evolved?

What if they’ve found new ways to reach us?

Through the very things we trust the most?

That device wasn’t a phone.

It was a gateway.

And I… was the one stupid enough to answer.

If it calls again…

I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to ignore it.

But I know one thing:

It’s not done with me.