It rings at 3:33 AM.
Always.
Same time.
Same number.
UNKNOWN CALLER
No area code.
No ID.
No sound when you answer — just breathing, slow and steady, like someone's trying to decide if you're worth speaking to.
And then a word.
Just one.
Different for everyone.
But once you hear it,
your life begins to unravel.
For Mina, it was "DROWN."
She laughed, hung up, shrugged it off.
Two days later, they pulled her body from the bathtub.
No sign of struggle.
Just wide eyes.
And a faint smile.
For Rowan, it was "WAKE."
He hadn't dreamed in years.
After the call, he started sleepwalking.
Writing things in languages he didn't know.
One night, he didn't come back.
The note he left just said:
"The dream woke up first."
For me, the word was:
"REMEMBER."
And ever since, I've been remembering things that never happened.
A boy crying in a burning hallway.A room full of mirrors with no reflection.A voice counting backward in a tongue I don't speak.A fourth door in my apartment that I never noticed before.
Every time I try to focus on the present,
the past shifts.
And sometimes, I remember being someone else.
People say the calls are a hoax.
A shared hallucination.
An urban legend stitched from fear.
But those who get the call… change.
They disappear.
They break.
Or worse — they become open.
They hear the voice.
They see the room.
They write the story.
Or get written into it.
Last night, my phone rang again.
3:33 AM.
Same number.
I answered.
And this time…
the voice said:
"YOU'RE NEXT TO SPEAK."