Haunted by the Old Phone

Warning: what I'm about to tell you is absolutely real and it still haunts me.

Last week I found an old phone in my attic. Dead battery, cracked screen,

nothing special. I charged it up just out of curiosity. The moment it powered on,

it started ringing. No caller ID. I answered. Silence. Then breathing.

Heavy, wet breathing. I hung up immediately. But here's where it gets terrifying.

The phone rang again. This time, a voice whispered my full name. My childhood nickname

that only my dead grandmother used. The screen flickered and showed a video. It was me.

Sleeping. In my current bedroom. Filmed from my closet. Last night. I checked the closet.