This story was just adapted into an audio drama by ‘The NoSleep Podcast’ for the debut of their 22nd season. As a side note, I’m glad I changed my mind about using Keith Loser as a pen name lol
In a small home office sits a man at a desk. The house is empty and motionless, save for the occasional clacking of a keyboard. The man at the desk dials a phone number, each digit entered breaks the silence with small robotic chirps. The phone begins to ring in the headphones he is wearing. An unfamiliar voice answers a question that hasn’t been asked,
“Yes.”
“Hi, this is Keith calling on behalf of the Pennsylvania Blood Bank. I’m trying to-”
The phone beeps and then is silent.
“alrighty…”
The line goes dead with a prolonged tone, the flatline of the cellular world. In the space that follows, a few keyboard strokes punctuate the silence. A number is dialed, and the short robotic tones are heard again. The phone begins ringing and is answered without a word,
“…”
“…Hi, this is Keith calling on behalf of the Pennsylvania Blood Bank. I’m trying to reach Vince?”
“Yeah, that’s me?”
“Hi, Vince. The PA Blood Bank is experiencing an unprecedented shortage of blood due to a decrease in donations. Our records from your last visit in… 1981, it looks like, indicate that you are O-, which is a universal donor: meaning your blood can be used in substitution of any other blood type. We are calling to see if you would be interested in scheduling a donation appointment?”
“Uh, no. No thanks.”
“Alrighty, well you have a good day, Vince. Mhm. Thanks. Bye.”
The man at the desk sighs softly, like a slowly deflating balloon. Soon the keyboard clacks away at the silence. The soft clicking sounds seem loud amid the quiet - like hail on a window. The typing stops, replaced by the chirps of a number being dialed. The phone rings in the man’s earbuds,
“Hi, this is Keith calling on behalf of the Pennsylvania Blood Bank. I’m trying to reach Brian?”
“Are you serious? Why in the hell are you callin’ me right now?”
“Uh, I’m calling to see-.”
“I don’t give an actual rats ass. The only reason I’m still on the line is to tell you to take me the hell off whatever call list you got.”
“Okay, well-“ The phone beeps.
“-Sheesh. Asshole…”
Another, louder exhalation follows the abrupt end to the call, like the compression of bellows. The man at the desk rubs the back of his neck, then clicks away at the keys on his computer. As he is typing, he feels a sticky substance on his fingers. When he looks down, there is a dark red liquid congealed on the keys. It seems to be blood, yet he checks his fingers and finds no injury. He leaves the room and returns with a damp paper towel. He begins methodically wiping down the keyboard, following the trail of sticky substance with a protracted swipe. He sighs once more before dialing the next phone number. It sings it’s robotic song and while it does, the man notices something. The place where his blinking cursor was is filled with the jumbled letters that were pressed when he cleaned the keys. What’s strange is the fully formed phrase in the middle of the nonsense, “pllokjggh it lies in wait bbmbccfg”. He stares at it while the phone rings in his ear. He must’ve somehow hit control-p and pasted whatever was on his clipboard. Yes, that’s the only explanation. It’s strange though, he doesn’t remember copying that text.
Despite himself, he feels a shiver crawl up his spine as he deletes the text. The phone stops ringing in his ear and he is met with a robotic voice saying mailbox full. He moves down to the next caller on his list and enters the phone number. As it rings, he hits control-p just to see what’s on his clipboard and a link gets pasted. Very strange… he deletes the link before the ringing in his ears is interrupted by a single word,
“Hello.”
“Hi, this is Keith calling on behalf of the Pennsylvania Blood Bank. I’m trying to reach Susan?”
“This is she.”
“Hi, Susan. I’m calling because there is an extreme shortage in blood donations, and our records indicate from your last visit to us that you are O-, which is a universal donor type. That means that your bloo-“
“Yes, I know what it means. I’m a registered nurse, don’t your records indicate that?”
“No, ma’am we don’t keep that kind of personal information in our-“
“Could you please take me off your call list?”
“Of course, ma’am. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”
“Sure you are.” The phone emits a familiar beep.
“Sure you are - god, what a…”
The man sighs a long exasperated breath, and then opens the desk drawer. He removes a bottle of medicine, and shakes out several pills, swallowing them dry. He sits the bottle on the desk and again rubs his eyes and temples. Finally, he enters a new phone number. The grainy ringing in his headphones conjures up a low quality voice on the other end,
“You’ve reached Derrick, can’t come to the phone right now so just leave a message and lie in wait - thanks.”
The phone beeps a slightly different tone. “Uh, Hello, this is Keith. I’m calling on behalf of the Pennsylvania Blood Bank. We are currently experiencing an all time low in donations, so we are calling all universal donors in our records. According to your chart, you last donated… a few months ago. So if you are able to donate again, it would be a huge help. Just call us back at (800) 771-0059 to make an appointment. Thank you, have a nice day.”
The phone beeps as he hangs up.
The computer screen displays a list of names, each one with a small entry written beside it. The keys clack away and the resulting phrase appears on-screen, one letter at a time: left message. Something tickles at his subconscious mind, vying for his full attention. He isn’t sure what it is but he feels slightly uneasy, and he’s not sure why. The man rubs the back of his head and his hand comes away red with blood. Confused, he glides his fingers carefully over the back of his head and neck and finds a sensitive spot. There is a fine vertical cut just at the bottom of his skull. It hurts now that he is aware of it, yet he has no idea where or when, or even what it is from. He leaves the room for more paper towels and washes his hands.
Once cleaned up and convinced he is okay, the man again presses down ten digits and then listens to the phone ringing in his ear. It splits the air like an alarm, and somehow the silence between rings seems quieter than before. With each ring, the man’s anxiety heightens, until it is finally interrupted by a voice,
“Hello?”
“Hi, this is Keith. I am calling on behalf of the Pennsylvania Blood Bank, and I’m trying to reach Michael?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“Hi, Michael. I’m not sure if you are aware but blood donations are at an all time low right now-“
“Yeah, I think I saw something about that.”
“Well, we are calling because you donated with us previously and you are a universal donor, so we-“
“I actually just got a tattoo, that’s why I didn’t donate this month.”
“Ah, that’s understandable. I’m sorry to have taken your time.”
“Yeah, that’s alright. I’ll just lie in wait until I’m able to donate again, then I’m sure you’ll see me.”
“Okay, yeah… Yeah, hah, thank you very much for your time.”
“Everything alright?”
“Huh, what? Oh yes, fine. Thanks. Mhm. Bye.”
The phone beeps again, sending the voice away into the digital aether.
The man stares at his computer screen with a confused expression on his face. A minute passes in total silence, until he slowly begins typing again. When he finishes his entry, he stares blankly at the screen for another few minutes, not really seeing anything. The computer shows a list of names with phone numbers beside them followed by short entries such as, “remove” or “left message” or “made appointment”. Before he has time to think better of it, he is dialing the next number and listening to the same old purgatorial ring,
“Hi, this is Keith. I am calling on behalf of the Pennsylvania Blood Bank. I’m trying to reach Sharon?”
“Hey, you reached me. What can I do you for?”
“Uh, hi. We are calling all of our previous donors who have a universal blood type and asking them if they could make an appointment to donate. Due to the, um, the unprecedented shortage we are experiencing, we are calling you to see if you might be able to donate?”
“Yeah I think I could be enticed into donating. I may have time next week.”
“Oh, great. That’s great news. We will actually have a donation bus in the Ephrata Walmart parking lot, I believe - let me double check. Yes, the Walmart parking lot. If that is near you, you could go there anytime next week from 8:00am to 5:00pm. If not, we can schedule an appointment for you?”
“No, that should work. The Walmart parking lot though? Seems kind of… sketchy to me. You fellas aren’t gonna jump me are you? Lie in wait and then kidnap me?”
“Wait, what did you just say?”
“Hah nothing, I’m just messing with you-“
“No, no I mean what did you say after the ‘jump me’ bit?”
“I said, you’re not gonna lie in wait for me are you?”
“Yeah, that’s so weird. The last two people I called used that phrase… why is everyone saying that?”
“…”
“I’m sorry, that was a strange thing to say.”
“…”
The phone beeps.
At the sudden sound of dial tone, the man rubs his eyes until he sees fireworks. He drags his hands down over his face and lets out a muffled groan from beneath his palms. He pushes away from his desk and the chair scrapes back across the old wooden floor. His footsteps recede from the room and into the kitchen. Returning moments later with a glass of water, he slumps back into his chair. The weight of each vapid rejection and irate caller is almost visible on his shoulders. He sits for a few minutes before dialing the next number on his endless list,
“Hi, this is-“
“Keith.”
“Uh, yes? My name is… Keith, and I’m calling on behalf of the Pennsylvania Blood Bank. I’m trying to reach John?”
The only sound on the other end is that of breathing, not heavily or labored, just breathing.
“Hello?”
No answer except the breaths, which become heavier now.
“… are you still there?”
“… Always…” a voice croaks through his headphones.
“Well, we have records indicating that you are a universal donor. With our current shortage we are wondering if we could get you to schedule an appointment to donate?”
The breathing again.
“…Hello?”
There is a final breath, then an absolute silence which the whole world seems complicit in.
“Okay, well I’m going to hang up now. Just call us back if you want to make an appointment.”
“… it lies in wait, Keith.”
The phone beeps in his ear.
The man’s heart is pounding so loud he can hear it in his ears, and he can feel his anxiety climbing higher. A look of wide-eyed fear spreads across his face before he closes his eyes, and rubs fiercely at his temples. Slowly, the rapid thumping of his heart recedes and slows. He opens his eyes and stares straight ahead blankly, trying to convince himself he accidentally dialed a previous number. One of the angry customers probably just wanted to mess with him as payback. Yes, that’s all it was - a redialed number and a cruel prank. His slow and measured breathing is the only sound in the room, until he hears a creaking in the hall. He goes still and listens. There it is again, the wooden floorboards groaning under the weight of feet. He calls out and his voice wavers,
“He-hello? Is someone out there?”
Very slowly, he moves towards his office door. When one of his steps causes the floor to squeak, he suddenly hears heavy footsteps running away from the door. The running sound trails off further into the house and then there’s the sound of a door slamming. He is in a full blown panic now and grabs his phone to dial 911. His heart is pounding relentlessly as the phone rings. Someone picks up and almost immediately, he begins sobbing,
“911, what is your emergency?”
“Please help! please, there’s someone in my house. There’s-…”
“What is your location, sir?”
“I’m in my house and there’s someone inside! I’m at 42 East Richland Drive - please send someone.”
“Please stay on the line and remain calm - I will stay on the call with you until help arrives.”
“Okay, thank you- thank you.”
“Are you in a safe place?”
“Yes, well, I think so. I’m in my office and the person is outside in the halls somewhere.”
“Can you lock the office door and hide anywhere in the room?”
“Uh, yes I think so, yes.”
He locks the door and scampers back as though it is hot.
“Okay, I’m hiding under the desk now. Please hurry.”
“Okay, Keith. Just lie in wait there - we are on our way.”
“…”
He stares at his phone screen as the length of the call ticks higher. The number at the top shows 911. He hangs up and feels a new kind of fear, a sort of disbelieving horror. He stares at his phone in shock until more thumping can be heard through the ceiling, rousing him from his stupor. He listens to the sounds and trembles underneath the desk when suddenly his phone, still clutched tightly in his hand, begins to ring.
His pulse immediately spikes at the unexpected ringing in his earbuds. He looks at his phone’s screen and the ID simply says “Unknown”. The sound of his heart is like a sloshing pressure in his ears. He doesn’t answer the call, but stares helplessly at the screen as it rings. The screen finally shows “missed call” but almost as soon as the buzzing stops, it begins again. He can scarcely breathe now as he answers the call with shaking hands. He doesn’t say anything, just simply accepts the call. The voice that greets him is a deep droning whisper, and it seems to struggle at forming words,
“… wait… “
He frantically hangs up the phone, and he hears the tell-tale beep, and his screen shows the call has ended, yet the voice still whispers in his ear,
“… it… lies…”
He can taste bile in his throat as his heart pounds on the back of ribs. He tears the headphones out of his ear and throws them across the room. Yet the croaking whisper continues inside of his skull, unceasing. He holds his ears closed with his fingers and screams with closed eyes, but he can’t stop the whispers,
“…it… lies… in… wait… it… lies… in… wait… it… lies… in… wait…”
He screams and pounds at the side of his head, hoping to stop the recitation. Suddenly, it ceases, as inexplicably as it began. In place of the voice and ceaseless noise, there is left a total silence. When he opens his eyes however, he is greeted with an almost entirely different scene. His office is darker somehow, and the shadows are so dark as to seem tangible. He stares out into the room from below the desk and the darkness in the corners appears to crawl and reach toward him. Somewhere outside his office door, he can faintly hear the whispers getting closer,
“… it lies in wait…”
There are creaking footsteps and the sounds of heavy chains dragging on the hardwood floor. He can feel an encroaching presence, drawing nearer yet unseen. He is so far beyond panic now, into the realm of unadulterated terror and horror, that he doesn’t know what to do. He simply sits, curled up under the desk, staring out toward the office door. The creaking steps halt outside the door and the sound of heavy chains drags to a still. The man’s breathing is heavy and labored until the door knob begins to turn, then he holds his breath completely.
The door slowly swings open into the room, revealing nothing but a rectangular abyss of black where the hall should be. The darkness is impermeable, like a physical wall. From out of the void, there appear two disembodied arms, extending into the room, reaching, spreading. They are wrapped in pale white skin, with sores and wounds spreading up and down them. Each arm bears a shackle around its wrist, with a chain receding into the dark. They reach into the room opening wider, as if seeking an embrace. A deep groaning noise reverberates through the room, like the swaying limbs of an ancient tree. The whispers drift in from that black absence, repeating the same four words as before. He stares in abject horror as the gaunt limbs reach impossibly far into the room.
Suddenly, they begin swinging together and clanging the chains against each other. The chains ring out hollowly, then the arms open and swing back together again. The chains continue to ring out louder and louder until the man wakes up and the whole world shifts. The ringing of the chains becomes the irritating ring of his phone in his earbuds. He realizes he fell asleep at some point and is still sitting at his desk. His phone sits on top of the desk and displays the caller as, ‘Central PA Bl…’. He rubs at his eyes and forehead with one hand, and then answers the call with his other hand.
He answers with his typical greeting for the boss, while opening his eyes. It’s then that he sees the repeating text beside every name on his call list. Just like his crazed fever dream, every entry has been replaced by that horrid phrase. He stares in shock, then looks around with unease settling into his gut. Everything is as it should be. Yet he swears that he faintly hears deep whispers, and his boss hasn’t said anything yet, has she? There is only a faint static hiss in his earbud, and maybe, far off, the sound of chains dragging.
Nice one!
This is so intense! And congrats on getting it on the NoSleep Podcast!