For a couple weeks one summer, between my sophomore and junior year of college, I stopped answering my home phone.
If anybody wanted to get ahold of me, I was willing to turn on the cell phone I only used for work and long distance calls.
Unlike now, where I just HATE talking on the phone, that summer I avoided the phone because of some weird calls I started getting.
The calls started one weekend evening after I had gotten off work. Puttering around my hot, little apartment, debating between treating myself to pizza or settling for instant noodles, the phone rang. I still remember reaching for the phone thinking, "Maybe someone wants to buy me dinner."
"Hello?" I said into my purple, plastic, cordless phone.
Static. It sounded like someone was clearing their throat.
"Hello, hello?" I asked again, thinking it was a bad connection.
Static. What sounded like wind blowing across the speaker.
Then unintelligible mumbling and what sounded like CHUCKLING.
It sounded like a high-voiced man chuckling over static, but nothing maniacal or sinister. Perhaps the predecessor of what the world would later come to know as a "butt dial"?
I'd hear chuckling and mumbling, then a pause where I'd just hear a crackly-windy-static sound, and then more chuckling and mumbling.
I said "Hello? Who is this? Can you hear me?" a few times into the phone then hung up. It was either some sort of accidental phone call or a prank, right?
At the time I was a little creeped out, but more than that I was hungry, so I put it out of my mind. I ended up getting a pizza.
A few nights later, this time around 11 p.m., I got another call. Same thing — static or what sounded like wind, and a high-voiced man mumbling and chuckling.
"WHO IS THIS?" I demanded. Chuckle, mumble, crackle. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
The strange calls came two more times over the course of a week. I didn't have caller ID, so I didn't know who was calling. And the one time I had the guts to *69 the caller, the caller could not be identified. My imagination started going a million different directions, from ghosts to serial killers to aliens.
Eventually I went back to answering my phone, and the strange calls never resumed. Thinking about it now, it was probably some toolbag screwing around with me. But toolbag or not, the whole thing sounds like an "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" episode — "The Tale of the Cackling Caller."
Phones can be scary, y'all. Aside from the fact that you have to TALK TO PEOPLE ON THEM, creepy stories involving phones run the gamut from touching to chilling.
So unplug your landline, turn your cell phone to silent and check out these eerie instances involving mysterious phone calls. Do you ever REALLY know who's on the other end of the line?
"It was such a strange call."
In 1988, bestselling author Dean Koontz received a phone call he couldn't explain.
While in his office, his unlisted phone rang. When he picked up, a woman's voice that sounded "far away" was on the line. He told author and biographer Katherine Ramsland:
She spoke with a sense of great urgency. “Please, be careful!” she said.
A bit startled, Dean asked, “Who is this?”
He received no response. The woman repeated the warning three more times, and each time she said it, her voice became more distant.
When the line fell silent, Dean sat there listening for a while, uncertain what to make of it. The voice had sounded eerily like his mother’s, but she had been dead for nearly two decades.
“A voice is much harder to remember than a face,” he said, “so I thought I was being melodramatic.”
Two days later, Koontz went to "visit his father at the facility where he lived." Koontz's father was suffering from some "behavioral problems" at the time, the severity of which would take Koontz by surprise.
His father had used his allowance to purchase a small knife, and when Koontz entered his room his father lunged at him with the weapon.
Koontz was able to get the knife away from his father, but someone had called the police, and when Koontz went into the hallway with the knife in his hand he was met with several armed policemen.
With guns aimed at him the police yelled, "Drop the knife!" Koontz tried to explain the situation but they kept yelling, "Drop the knife!"
Dean froze. “All of a sudden,” he recalls, “I realized that they were going to shoot me if I didn’t drop the knife. They thought I was the perpetrator. So I dropped it and obeyed them. That was one of the worst moments of my life. My own stupidity almost got me killed.”
The situation was eventually resolved without further violence, but in thinking about his "mysterious phone call," Koontz couldn't help but wonder if it was a warning from beyond the grave.
In September of 2008, Charles Peck was killed when his Metrolink commuter train collided with a freight train in the Chatsworth area of Los Angeles.
Despite being killed upon impact, Peck's phone made 35 phone calls to his closest friends and family in the 12 hours before his body was found in the wreckage. The signal coming from the calls actually made it possible for search crews to find Peck's body.
And if you think (like I did) that the phone must have been damaged and was just making random phone calls from the people in his contacts list, only those nearest to him received calls — "his son, brother, sister, stepmother and fiancée."
Peck's fiancée, who learned about the crash from a radio news report, said that while there was only static on the line when she picked up his calls, she'd still shout, "Hang in there baby. We're gonna get you out. You're gonna be OK."
When friends and family tried to return Peck's phone calls, their calls would go straight to voicemail.
Was Charles Peck's cell phone simply malfunctioning in the best possible way? Was someone playing a cruel joke? Or could it be that Charles Peck was showing search crews where to find his remains, while at the same time reaching out to his loved ones one last time?
Oh George, It's Your (Dead) Friend Konstantin on the Phone
Raudive and his merry band of researchers, one of which was a fellow by the name of George Meek, spent much of their lives proving the existence of EVPs.
So of course, when Raudive died in 1974, he set about trying to make contact with his EVP posse. Supposedly he was quite successful, making contact numerous times via phone, computer, even fax.
In 1994 Meek claimed that he recorded a telephone conversation between that feisty Raudive and himself. Give it a listen here.
While there's understandably a lot of controversy over the authenticity of this and other recordings of Raudive's disembodied voice, you've got to admit that it's a pretty darn creepy recording.
And who knows? Maybe I'll get a courtesy call from Konstantin Raudive granting Creepy Corner an exclusive interview.
Have you or anyone you know, ever received a creepy, unexplainable phone call? Text message? Fax? Has Konstantin Raudive ever called you?
Tell us Creepy Corneristas!