A girl finds a phone in her couch while cleaning when it starts ringing…who is calling her?

            I brushed a strand of my bangs away from my face as I slid my arm across my forehead to get rid of the sweat that had slowly been collecting. I looked about the room and pulled at the bottom of my raggedy shorts and too big white tee-shirt that had bleach stains all over it. Now to tackle the couch, I thought with a grimace. I headed forward and then plucked the cushions out of the seats and froze for a second my head tilting to the side.

            I dropped the cloth and the duster to lean down and picked up the shiny black Motorola i1 and looked at it. I looked closer at the cell phone my thoughts spinning in my head and I turned around. Where had this cell phone come from? Why was it in my couch? I stood there gazing at the technology. I hadn’t invited anyone over for at least two weeks and then if someone had left the cell phone they would have called to see if I had found it, so why was it in my house?

            I nearly jumped out of my skin, my heart speeding as if sprinting to the finish the race first right from the get go and let out a squeal as I stepped in the bucket and tripped, the hot water burning my leg and spreading out on the carpet around me. With a loud thump, and much pain, I landed on my butt as I glanced at the phone which was now playing a snippet from a song I couldn’t quite recognize.

            Who was calling so suddenly? What if it was a serial killer who was calling me, playing cat and mouse just like from those shows on T.V? He was calling to tease and sneer and to give a little warning to the unsuspecting girl that was his next victim. Then in the middle of the night or at a time that the girl would be unsuspecting, he would sneak in and do whatever he wanted to his heart content.      

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