Late Night Pitstop

It was just sitting there, so I had to pick it up. Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same. Tell me with a straight face and I’ll try to believe you. It was just there, sitting on the side next to the sink. Underneath the soap dispenser with just a few droplets of water sitting on the screen. I dried it straight away and turned it on, the battery was still good, and it just had one of those generic background lock screens. It looked like a brand new phone, straight out of the box. How could someone just leave it there? Didn’t they have pockets? That’s what I was thinking when I picked it up. It’s not like I saw anyone go in or leave the toilet at any point, I would have chased after them if I did, to give it back to them.

I don’t know how to unlock the phone, and I don’t have a clue how to get around that. So, it’s not like I was planning on keeping it. It’s just you see a gadget on the side with no owner, you have to take it. It was a small service station, and it was quite late, so there was barely anyone around. Just a few people getting a late-night snack at the never closing McDonalds. I rushed past them and got back to the car, turned the engine on to get rid of the chill and by that point I’d already forgotten about the phone in my pocket. Then it buzzed.

I pulled it out and lit up the screen, there was a message. I pressed the little icon so the preview would come up and pulled it down to read it:

“Thanks for picking up my phone” it read.

Another buzz

“Now you get to decide” replaced the first message.

At that point my heart was already racing. It was some kind of joke, a prank, or experiment to see who would pick up the phone. I was going to be filmed and put online on some clickbait rubbish with my face blurred out, I could sense it. Then the phone buzzed again.

This time it was a picture, and when I pulled the preview down, I could just about make it out. There was a man tied to a chair, a gag in his mouth with dried blood dripped down his face like fangs. He was looking directly into the camera. His eyes pleading with me.

Another buzz, and the next text came through.

“Does he live or die?”

This must be a joke, it has to be. There’s no way this is real. Why did I pick up that phone? why did I? I should have just left it on the side. Saw it and ignored it.

“Well?”

Should have just left it there. I can’t even do anything with it, it’s useless to me.

“Yes or No?”

Little quick responses popped up with the two options underneath it, before the message was replaced again.

“10…”

“9…”

“8…”


Thanks for reading my little story. I hope you enjoyed it!

When I first started this blog, something I used to do was to give myself a word target and just write a story or at least part of one. I decided I was going to do that again today and gave myself 500 words as the limit. Once I started I just carried on and wrote it in about fifteen minutes, gave it a once over and now it’s out there. Maybe I’ll do more in the future.

About ashleymanningwriter

Young Adult Fiction writer. Horror and fantasy blended together.
This entry was posted in Short Stories and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Late Night Pitstop

  1. mongo1970 says:

    Die is the right answer ha ha ha ha ha

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: Mid-December | Ashley Manning

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