Script
Voicemails from the Past
The Story So Far… Hira's new life in Ridge Town has unraveled into something twisted. Strange voices. Photos of her taken in secret. A man — or a presence — living in apartment 7B. And now, her own image staring into the camera while she sleeps. She no longer knows who to trust. Not even herself. The Missed Call It started at 3:00 AM. Her phone buzzed — a call from an unknown number. At first, she didn’t think much of it. She turned it over and went back to sleep. But it rang again. And again. When she finally answered, all she heard was static. Then a voice. Low. Raspy. Familiar. “Hira?” She bolted upright. “Who is this?” she whispered. The voice hesitated. “It’s me. You.” Then the call dropped. She stared at the screen. The number was strange — a format she hadn’t seen before. Curious, she dialed her old number. The one she had when she lived in Karachi. The one she canceled years ago. It rang. Someone answered. But no one spoke. The First Voicemail Later that morning, she noticed a new voicemail. She pressed play. It was a recording of her own voice. But the words she heard… she didn’t remember saying. > "They think I’m dead. But I’m not. I’m still here. He’s keeping me… inside the mirror." She dropped the phone. The Mirror That night, unable to sleep, she stood in front of the long mirror in her bedroom. She stared into it, half-expecting it to shatter. Or to see another version of herself looking back. Nothing happened. But when she turned to walk away, her reflection didn’t move. She froze. Slowly, the reflection lifted its hand… and pressed it against the glass. Hira turned back sharply. It was gone. Just her own reflection again. Her breath fogged up the glass. In the condensation, a sentence began to appear — letter by letter. “HELP ME.” The Man in the Recording The next morning, she called the phone company and asked about the number that had called her. The operator hesitated. “There’s no record of that number being active. It’s not in any database.” “But it’s my old number,” Hira said. “I used it for years.” The operator paused. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but that number was never issued to you — or to anyone else in the last decade. It doesn’t exist.” The Hospital File Determined to find answers, Hira visited the town records office. She requested files on the previous tenants of her building — especially apartment 7B. At first, they refused. But a sympathetic clerk finally handed her a dusty folder, marked “Unresolved — Ridge Complex.” Inside were faded photos, handwritten reports, and a patient record. Name: Hira Saeed Status: Declared mentally unstable. Admitted to: Ridge Town Psychiatric Facility Diagnosis: Delusional dissociation. Claims of multiple realities. Alleged sightings of “herself” inside mirrors and windows. Hira’s hands shook. “I’ve never been to a psychiatric facility,” she muttered. Or had she? The Second Voicemail Back home, another voicemail. This time, a child’s voice. A little girl. > "He told me you forgot. You promised you’d come back. But you’re not her anymore, are you?" Hira screamed and threw the phone across the room. The Note on the Window She tried to calm herself, made tea, sat by the window to think. Outside, across the street, in the fog — something caught her eye. A figure. Standing perfectly still, staring up at her window. Even from this distance, she recognized it. It was her. Again. She ran downstairs. But when she reached the street, the figure was gone. In its place, taped to the outside of her building, was a single piece of paper. Written in the same handwriting from the photo frame in Part 1: “You left her behind. Go back before she forgets you completely.” The Box Beneath the Floor Hira remembered the basement — the old storage area beneath her building. Something was calling her back there. She grabbed a flashlight and descended the narrow, creaking stairs. At the far end of the basement, hidden behind loose bricks, she found a small wooden box. Inside: An old SIM card. A photograph of her holding a child. A cassette tape labeled "Session 3 – Hira’s Therapy." She inserted the SIM into her phone. Immediately, a message popped up. New Voicemail – July 18, 2015 She played it. This time, there was no voice. Just breathing. Then, a scream. Then, silence. The Tape Back in her apartment, she played the cassette. The voice of a doctor came through, clear but cautious. > “Hira suffers from severe delusional breaks. She believes she has lived multiple lives — sometimes simultaneously. She believes one of her realities is trapped inside a phone. The other... in a mirror.” Then her own voice. > “But you don’t get it. I am both of them. And one of us… is going to die.” To Be Continued... Next in Part 4: "Beneath the Basement Floor" The truth was buried deep — literally.
By Abid Ali Khanabout a year ago in Fiction
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