Ethan wasn't much of a talker, especially not with strangers. But tonight was different. It was pouring rain, and he had missed the last bus home. So when he saw a lone phone booth on the corner, he decided to make a call.
He dialed his friend Ben's number, hoping to ask for a ride. But the call didn't go through. After a few seconds of static, he heard a voice he didn't recognize.
"Hello, Ethan," the voice crackled, sounding oddly familiar.
Startled, Ethan responded, "Uh? who is this?"
"Does it really matter?" The voice was calm, almost amused. "I know you're trying to get home. But don't rush - you've got plenty of time."
Ethan's pulse quickened. "Who are you? And how do you know my name?"
"Don't you remember me? I'm someone from your past, Ethan. I've watched you for a long time."
Ethan's mind raced. He thought of everyone he'd known, anyone who might play a prank like this, but no one came to mind. "What do you want from me?" he whispered.
The voice chuckled. "Just a conversation. Tell me, Ethan, do you believe in fate?"
Ethan didn't respond, but a strange feeling crept over him. He looked down the dark, empty street, then back at the booth. It was as if he were being watched.
"You know," the voice continued, "we often cross paths with people we're meant to meet. It's inevitable. Some even say it's destiny."
Ethan shivered as a chill ran down his spine. "Enough of this. I don't know who you are or what you want, but this isn't funny."
"Oh, but it is. It's actually quite ironic."
With a surge of anger, Ethan slammed the phone down, ending the call. As he stepped out of the booth, he pulled up his hood and decided to walk home. But just as he took hisfirst step onto the wet street, he was blinded by a pair of headlights.
The driver, not seeing him in the rain, swerved too late. There was a flash, a jolt of pain - and then nothing.
---
Hours later, a police officer inspecting the scene picked up the fallen phone from the booth. Strangely, it seemed to be ringing. Curious, he lifted the receiver to his ear and heard a crackling voice say, "Hello, Ethan. It's time to come home."
He dialed his friend Ben's number, hoping to ask for a ride. But the call didn't go through. After a few seconds of static, he heard a voice he didn't recognize.
"Hello, Ethan," the voice crackled, sounding oddly familiar.
Startled, Ethan responded, "Uh? who is this?"
"Does it really matter?" The voice was calm, almost amused. "I know you're trying to get home. But don't rush - you've got plenty of time."
Ethan's pulse quickened. "Who are you? And how do you know my name?"
"Don't you remember me? I'm someone from your past, Ethan. I've watched you for a long time."
Ethan's mind raced. He thought of everyone he'd known, anyone who might play a prank like this, but no one came to mind. "What do you want from me?" he whispered.
The voice chuckled. "Just a conversation. Tell me, Ethan, do you believe in fate?"
Ethan didn't respond, but a strange feeling crept over him. He looked down the dark, empty street, then back at the booth. It was as if he were being watched.
"You know," the voice continued, "we often cross paths with people we're meant to meet. It's inevitable. Some even say it's destiny."
Ethan shivered as a chill ran down his spine. "Enough of this. I don't know who you are or what you want, but this isn't funny."
"Oh, but it is. It's actually quite ironic."
With a surge of anger, Ethan slammed the phone down, ending the call. As he stepped out of the booth, he pulled up his hood and decided to walk home. But just as he took hisfirst step onto the wet street, he was blinded by a pair of headlights.
The driver, not seeing him in the rain, swerved too late. There was a flash, a jolt of pain - and then nothing.
---
Hours later, a police officer inspecting the scene picked up the fallen phone from the booth. Strangely, it seemed to be ringing. Curious, he lifted the receiver to his ear and heard a crackling voice say, "Hello, Ethan. It's time to come home."
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