The Midnight Phone Call

I work as a night shift operator at a small customer service center. The job is rather monotonous and dull, but the salary is quite good, especially with the night shift allowance. I usually work from 11 p.m. to 7 a.m., answering all kinds of consultation calls.

It was an ordinary Wednesday early in the morning. I was the only one in the office. The fluorescent lights were emitting a faint humming sound, and the blue light from the computer screen was particularly glaring in the darkness. I was idly flipping through the work manual when suddenly, the phone rang.

"Ringling——"

I glanced at the time. It was 2:47 a.m. Hardly any calls came in at this hour.

"Hello, this is the customer service center. How can I help you?" I said as usual.

There was a burst of沙沙的 static on the other end of the line, as if the signal was very poor. After a few seconds, a woman's voice came through, very soft and slightly trembling, "I... I want to check my account balance."

"Okay, please provide your account number information." I opened the query system.

The woman reported a series of numbers. As soon as I entered them into the system, I found that this was a closed account, and the closing time was... 1998?

"Sorry, this account has been closed," I said.

"Closed?" The woman's voice suddenly became shrill. "Impossible! I used this account just yesterday!"

I frowned slightly and patiently explained, "Ma'am, this account was indeed closed in 1998. Are you sure you didn't remember the account number wrong?"

There was a sudden silence on the other end of the line. I could faintly hear her slight breathing, and also... the sound of dripping water?

"Ma'am?" I called out tentatively.

"I'm at home," she said abruptly. "I've been at home all the time. Can you... can you help me check the electricity bill of my house? I always feel... I always feel that there's someone else in the house."

I looked at the system. This account was indeed associated with an address. Out of professional habit, I still helped her check.

"The electricity bill of your house has been paid normally for the past three months," I said. "There's no abnormal situation."

"No... that's not right..." Her voice started to tremble. "I haven't paid the electricity bill for... for three months already..."

I suddenly felt a chill down my back and asked quickly, "Ma'am, are you in some kind of trouble? Do you need me to call the police for you?"

"The police?" She suddenly laughed. Her laughter was soft, but it made the hair on my body stand on end. "It's no use... They can't find me... They'll never be able to find me..."

"Hello? Hello!" I shouted anxiously, but all I got in return was the dial tone. The call had been hung up.

I sat there with cold sweat on my palms. I remembered that address. It was in the old residential area in the west of the city. After hesitating for a long time, I still dialed the police station's number.

The next morning, I saw the news. The police found a female corpse in the basement at that address. The time of death was approximately three months ago. Beside the body was an old-fashioned telephone, with the handset taken off and placed aside. The most spine-chilling thing was that the forensic doctor said the posture of the deceased was as if she was making a phone call.

I thought this matter was over, but early in the morning a week later, the phone rang again.

"Ringling——"

I instinctively looked at the time. It was 2:47 a.m., exactly the same time as last time.

"Hello, this is the customer service center. How can I help you?" My voice trembled involuntarily.

"It's me..." The woman's voice came again. "I'm calling again..."

I stared fixedly at the computer screen, my fingers ice-cold. "Ma'am, you... aren't you already..."

"I know," she interrupted me. "I know I'm already dead. But... but I have to tell you something."

I swallowed hard, my throat parched. "What is it?"

" That night," her voice suddenly became urgent. "I heard some noise in the basement. I thought it was a thief, so I went down to check. And then... then I saw him..."

"Saw who?" I asked nervously.

"That man," her voice trembled even more. "He was wearing a black raincoat and a mask. Before I could even scream, he just... just..."

There was a burst of noisy sounds on the phone, as if someone was struggling desperately.

"Ma'am? Ma'am!" I called out in a panic.

"He's still there," her voice suddenly became clear. "In the wall of the basement. He... he bricked me up in the wall..."

I felt a chill shooting up from the soles of my feet. "You mean... the murderer is still there?"

"Yes," her voice suddenly became very soft. "Can you... can you call the police for me? This time... this time, you must catch him..."

The call was cut off again. Without any hesitation, I immediately dialed the police station's number. This time, I described the address in detail, as well as the wall in the basement.

The next day, the news caused a sensation in the whole city again. The police found a male corpse in one of the walls of that basement. After identification, he was exactly the murderer of a series of homicides that occurred three years ago. He died in the wall he had built himself, and the body had already decayed.

Since then, I never received that call again. But I can never forget that woman's voice and the words she said. Sometimes when I'm on night shift late at night, I would involuntarily look at the phone, always feeling that it would ring again at any moment.

Until one day, when I was sorting through old files, I found a record from 1998. It was a complaint record, and the complainant was exactly the resident at that address. The record showed that she had repeatedly reported problems with the telephone line and often received strange calls in the middle of the night...

I stared at that record, and a flash of light suddenly came to my mind, as if I understood something. Perhaps that call was never meant for me. Perhaps she had always been waiting for someone who could hear her voice. And I just happened to pick up that call from another world that night.

Since then, I never worked the night shift again. Whenever it's quiet in the dead of night, I would always think of that voice and every word she said. Sometimes I can't help but wonder if there are still other secrets hidden in that basement, and if there are still other voices quietly waiting to be heard in the darkness...