“I’m bored, Emma,” I whined to my big sister. 

She was sitting at her desk studying for an exam while I lay in her bed, bored. She slammed her hand on her desk, which made me flinch.

“Go for a walk or something,” she said. 

I groaned.

“I’m too lazy!” 

I yelped when she started pulling my legs, dragging me out of her room. She dragged me all the way to my room and slammed the door on the way out. I sighed. I turned on my phone, and started scrolling through the numbers of who I could call. Suddenly, an idea popped into my head. What if I call my own number? I thought to myself. I laughed, thinking of how stupid it was. But, I was bored so tried. 

I went back to Emma’s room, and she groaned when she saw me.

“Get out, Emily!” she yelled. 

“Oh, I’ll get out, but can I have your phone first, please?” I asked. She looked at me.“Why?” She asked.

“I wanna call my number,” I replied. She laughed. I rolled my eyes. “It’s stupid, I know, but if you give me your phone, I’ll leave you for thirty minutes,” 

Instantly, she threw her phone at me, and shoved me out, and slammed the door. I stuck my tongue out and walked to my room. I sat on my bed and began dialing my number on Emma’s phone. I put my phone in front of me. Emma’s phone started ringing, but my phone didn't. 

“It should be ringing,” I whispered, looking for any sign that my phone would ring.

“Hello?” I stared at Emma’s phone. “Hello? Is there anyone there?” I kept staring at it. Someone is answering the phone. And it wasn’t me. I looked at my phone again, and no sign of any ringing.

“What the,” I muttered. Terrified, I put the phone close to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hi, who are you?” a boy ask, around his young twenties. My eyes widened, and I yelled. I ended the call, and threw Emma’s phone on the other side of the bed. I breathed heavily. Terrified of who answered the phone. 

“Emily, on second thought, I want my phone back,” Emma said, opening the door. She stood still, looking at me with worried eyes. “Emily?” She came close and sat next to me. She shook me. I hugged her, trembling. 

“Emily, what’s wrong? Ugh, did Mike call you? I swear, if he said, anything bad about you, I’m gonna—,” 

“Someone answered,” I muttered. 

“What? What do you mean, someone answered?” She asked, pulling me away, looking at me. I took a deep breath.

“When I called my number on your phone, someone else answered, and it wasn’t me,” I said. Emily’s eyes widened, then she laughed. 

“If this is one of your pranks, it's very terrifying,” She said. Then she stopped laughing. “You're serious?” She asked. I nodded. She grabbed her phone, and started dialing my number. She grabbed my phone, and checked if it was ringing. It was not.

“Hello?” The voice answered. Immediately, both of us looked at each other, and at the phone.

“Your phone’s not ringing, but someone is answering,” She whispered, obviously feeling uneasy.

“Okay, whoever you are, I don’t know how you got my number, but—”

“Who is this?” Emma answered. I looked at her, as if she was crazy. 

“You answer first. You were the one who called me,” The voice said. She took a deep breath.

“My name is Lila,” She said. I sighed, thankful she didn’t say her real name.

“Well, Lila, my name is Charles, and I would like to know how you got my number, please,” He answered. I looked at her, and she looked at me.

“From Instagram, you posted your number,” She replied. I smacked her head.

“Instagram? What’s Instagram?” Charles asked.

“Oh, what? You're gonna pretend you don’t have an Instagram account, Charles? Come on, we used to go to elementary school together, What year do you live in?” She asked, laughing, but it died out fast when Charles answered.

“1958?” He answered. Our eyes widened.

“Hahaha, hilarious Charles,” Emma said, scared.

“I’m not kidding,” He said, serious.

“Wait, you're saying you live in the year 1958?” 

“Yes, isn’t that the year you live in?” Emma looked at me, stunned. I gestured for her to turn it off.

“Where do you live?” She asked. My eyes widened. 

“Woah there! I don’t even know you, and you're asking where I live?” 

“Yeah, I am, ‘cause I don’t believe that it’s 1958 And remember, we used to go to elementary together!” She yelled, masking the terrifying thing that she’s feeling. He laughed. 

“Are you guys friends with Rose?” Charles asked. Again, my eyes widened. 

“R-rose? What’s her last name?” I stuttered.

“What’s her last name?” Emma repeated. 

“Heath. Rose Whitney Heath, you should know this if you're friends with her. I mean, are you friends with her?” He replied. 

“Of course we are,” She said. Charles gave a sigh. It sounded like a happy sigh.

“It’s 865, West Crossroad Street,” He replied. I inhaled sharply. Emma looked at me.

“Thanks, bye Charles!” She ended the line, and started looking around my room. “Okay, I felt as if someone was staring at—Where are you going ?” She asked, as I slipped, my coat on and ran downstairs. I got out of the house and started walking toward West Crossroad Street. 

It’s not possible, I thought. I kept walking, until I saw it. I started at the porch. I didn’t look anywhere. Only on the porch. Two minutes later, Emma caught up. 

“Why are we here?” She asked, trying to catch her breath. “I should’ve joined cross-country, back in high school, geez,” She stood next to me, still trying to catch her breath. 

“Please tell me there are people around us,” I whispered to her. She looked around.

“There are kids playing and adults talking. And wow, there are a lot of people here!” She exclaimed. 

“Emma!” I looked towards my right and saw Luisa, Emma’s high school friend.

“OMG, Luisa, I missed you so much!” She said, as she hugged her. “What are you doing here?” 

“Oh, my grandparents live here, I’m just visiting for a while,” She smiled, then looked at me, then at the house.

“I noticed that you were staring at the house, Emily,” She said.

“D-does anyone live here?” I asked. I already knew the answer, but I wanted to be sure. She laughed.

“I already told you no one lives here, remember?” She replied.

“Why are we here, anyway?” Emma pondered. 

“865 West Crossroad Street,” I repeated. Emma looked at me, then at the mailbox.

“No way,” She muttered. I nodded.

“Uh, you girls are scaring me,” Luisa said. “I feel that I’m missing something. Am I—”

“Do you know who Rose Whitney is?” Luisa, looked at me.

“Yeah, I do. This was her very own house. She lives here, with her family,” She replied. “Do you want me to tell you her story, again?” I nodded. “Okay, Rose’s parents were very rich, they had a lot of money, which made them live in this luxurious house. Now, Rose wasn't only rich, but she was also, really, beautiful. A lot, and I mean, a lot of boys, liked her, especially—”

“Charles Porter,” This time Emma looked at me. “Charles Porter, was the only boy that Rose had a crush on. They both talked over landlines,” I stopped, scared of what I was going to say next. But Luisa thought I forgot the next part, because she continued the story.

“But, Rose's parents didn't like Charles, they thought that he wasn’t rich or handsome enough to marry Rose. So, they well, actually I don’t remember, what happened, to him, but the last time Rose, and Charles talked, it was on Rose, fifteenth, birthday,”

“And you know this, because?” Emma asked.

“My great, I don’t know how many greats, grandma was friends with Rose, and they told the story to their children, and grandchildren, and eventually, came to me, ” 

“H-has anyone been inside the house?” I asked, looking back at the porch. 

“No one actually,” Luisa replied. “Some say it’s haunted. Can’t blame them though, it looks like a haunted house, to me,” I looked around the house and saw what she meant by haunted. The windows, had cracks in it, there were ivys, growing all over the house, the house is losing it’s colors, the stairs to the porch, was broken, the grass is growing a lot taller. I stared looking through all the windows. I kept looking, until I saw a silhouette of a male.

“What happened on her birthday?” I asked, a knot forming in my stomach.

“I don’t know,” She replied. “If I remember correctly, my great-grandmothers said that Rose was crying on her birthday. I’m assuming that her parents probably said they can’t be together,” She shrugged. 

“You saw it, didn’t you?” Emma asked, looking at me. I nodded. Me and Emma, can sometimes figure out what the other one is thinking, and I don’t think she likes what I’m thinking, because the next thing she did was grab my arm and start pulling me away from the house. Luisa caught up with us, but my eyes were still on the window. I feel like if I turn away, it’ll appear right in front of us. When I couldn’t see the house anymore, I finally looked at Emma, who was breathing heavily. We reached our house in complete silence. Once we reached our porch, Emma waved goodbye to Luisa, and I sat down, at the steps of the porch, hugging my knees, preventing myself from crying. 

“Scared?” Emma asked, sitting beside me. 

“A little bit,” I said. 

“I asked mom if we could change your phone number. She asked why, and I told her, Some kids keep pranking you, and you get annoyed by it, that you want to change your number,” She said. 

“Did she say yes?” I asked. Emma nodded. “I probably won’t be able to sleep for two weeks,” 

“You can stay in my room, if you want, because in my opinion, my room is a little less creepy than yours,” She said. 

“Yeah, maybe. But, it won’t make a difference, you’ll be gone, in the next two weeks,”

“You’ll get over this phone number thing, after two weeks!” She exclaimed. “You never hold onto things, that long,” 

“Yeah, but this will haunt me forever, maybe even when I’m sixty,” I pouted,“Or maybe, until I die,” Emma flicked my forehead.

“You will be fine, now come on, mom’s making brownies. It’ll get you over, this whole entire phone thing,” She pulled me back up, and started dragging me inside. When I came  inside, the thought disappeared when I smelled the brownies. Emma must’ve noticed too, because she started saying anything to get my mind off it. After we ate, I washed the dishes, while my parents helped Emma pack. After that, I went upstairs to my room, when my dog, Casey, bit on my pants and started pulling me away. 

“What is it, girl?” I asked. But, it kept pulling. I tried to let Casey get off biting my pants, when I saw something in the corner of my eye. I stopped resisting, and started walking towards my room. When I reached inside, Casey didn’t follow, instead she ran down the stairs. My room suddenly gave me the creeps. My bed was neatly folded, which I remembered, it wasn’t. The lights were closed, and papers started blowing away. I put my arms around me, because it was starting to get cold. The window was open. I stared at it. Then, the door slammed behind me. Instead of looking back, I just keep staring at the window. I already knew what was behind me. Creaking noises came up, and footsteps came walking closely at me. I inhaled sharply. My heart started beating faster. 

“Emily?” My eyes widened. Emma.“Emily, why do you have your door locked?” She asked, twisting the knob. I started walking backwards slowly. I know that it’s just my imagination, that there is someone behind me. I know it. I kept walking backwards slowly, until I felt something cold brush through my hand. I stopped. Pounding came on the door.

“Emily! Open this door right now!” It was my father. “Emma, stay here!” My father yelled. His footsteps receding. 

“Emily?” Asked, my sister. “Open the door, please,” She pleaded. 

“I can’t,” I whispered. I stopped breathing, when I felt something cold, intertwined, with my hand. 

“Emily?” asked, a voice. “Won’t you help me?” 

“Emily? Who’s in there with you? Emily!” I couldn’t take it anymore. I screamed, turned around and ran for the door. In a glimpse, I saw a figure standing next to my closet. Charles Porter. I opened the door and Emma came crashing down. 

“Emma! Are you okay?” I asked, helping her up.

“Am I okay!? You have been in your room for six minutes, acting all weird, and you ask me if I’m okay?” She yelled. She opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off.

“Charles Porter was in my room,” I blurted out. She looked at me with wide eyes, and started looking around my room. 

“How, could you tell it was him?” She whispered.

“Because, I saw him in Rose’s window, remember?” She looked at me uneasily. Then, she grabbed my hand and dragged me outside my room. When we reached the bottom floor, I saw my mother arguing with an old lady. When the old lady saw me, she pushed past my mother, and put her hand on my shoulder. 

“Christine,” My mother said, rubbing her forehead. “Our daughter Emily, is fine, so quit with your—”

“Emily!” The lady said. “You are his next target,” I looked at her weirdly.

“What?” I asked, taking her hands off me.

“You are Charles Porter’s next target,” She replied, with frantic eyes. My eyes widened, my knees felt weak. My mother started yelling at the old lady. Emma put her hand on my shoulder. I looked at her. And behind her was him. Staring at me. I inhaled sharply. 

“Emily!” was all I heard, before, passing out in the darkness.