The House That Called Collect

They say the house on Briar Hollow Road doesn’t just creak or groan like other old farmhouses.

It calls.

And it calls collect.

The locals of Windmere never talk about it directly, but everyone knows someone who’s heard the phone ring inside the old Whitmore place. No cell reception, no electricity—but the dusty rotary phone in the hallway still rings. Always after midnight. And always, they say, with a voice on the other end that shouldn't be there.

Liam Rourke had made a name for himself in the dark corners of the internet with his podcast “Static Signal.” Each week, he chased unsolved mysteries, haunted places, or electronic phenomena that blurred the line between science and something... else.

But he wasn’t a true believer.

Not yet.

It was an anonymous email that brought him to Windmere.

Subject Line: The House That Called Collect

If you’re brave, come alone. Spend one night.

I guarantee it will ring.

—A Friend who’s already answered.

The house was exactly as described—abandoned, sun-bleached, half-swallowed by tall grass and ivy. It leaned a little to the left, as though it remembered standing straighter in better times.

Inside, everything was coated in a fine layer of dust and silence. A few broken chairs. Torn curtains. A Bible facedown on the floor.

Liam set up his recording gear—digital voice recorder, EMF meter, thermal cam. He even brought a battery-powered ring light for effect. At the center of it all, he placed a directional mic near the old black rotary phone on the wall.

By 11:30 PM, Liam was already yawning. Nothing had happened. No sounds, no whispers. Just creaks, the occasional scratch of wind through rotten wood. He thought of going live, but decided to wait for midnight. Just in case.

Then, at 12:07 AM, the phone rang.

Three long, shrill rings.

Liam froze. The house held its breath.

He pressed record, walked slowly to the phone, heart thudding against his ribs. He stared at the dial. Dust had gathered in the finger holes. No electricity. No dial tone.

The phone rang again.

He answered.

“Hello?” he said.

Static.

Then—

“Liam?”

The voice was weak. Familiar.

“Liam, it’s... it’s Dad.”

His blood ran cold.

His father had been dead for six years.

“Who is this?” Liam asked. He wanted to believe it was a prank. Some elaborate hoax.

“I’ve missed you, son. There’s so much I didn’t say... I didn’t want to go. I didn’t mean to leave like that.”

Liam felt his knees weaken. He pressed the phone tighter to his ear.

“You need to get out of the house, Liam. It wants something. You hear me? It used me to bring you here. Don’t let it keep you too—”

The line cut.

He stared at the phone.

It didn’t ring again.

He staggered back into the living room, trembling. The recording equipment was still running.

Replaying the file, he heard his own voice clear as day. “Hello?”

Then silence.

No static. No voice. No Dad.

He slept in the van that night.

When he returned home, he uploaded a heavily edited version of the episode. He didn’t mention the voice. Just said it was “interesting, but inconclusive.” His listeners could decide.

But the next night, the phone rang again.

His cell this time.

Blocked number.

12:07 AM.

He let it go to voicemail.

When he played the message, the voice was clearer than before.

“Why didn’t you listen, Liam?

You brought it with you.”

He smashed the phone.

Bought a new one.

It rang the next night.

“It’s part of you now.”

Emails from fans started rolling in.

Some were excited.

Some horrified.

“Dude, you were in my dream last night. You were in the house.”

“I heard breathing in your podcast—behind your voice.”

“Ever since I listened, my landline rings at midnight. I don’t even have a landline.”

He stopped sleeping.

He tried to stop recording.

But Static Signal still updates weekly—on its own. New episodes. New voices.

He listens. Every week.

So do millions of others.

And always—at 12:07 AM—the house calls again.

Final Line:

Would you pick up, if it was someone you loved on the other end?

Because the house?

It’s dialing you next.