Night Caller — Daniel Ransom

The antique telephone sat in darkness in the attic. Dust and cobwebs obscured its once gleaming surface. Wires hung limply from its rusted innards. It should have been nothing more than an interesting piece of junk. Except that sometimes, late at night, the occupants of the hotel rooms below swore they heard it ringing. At first, thirteen year old Jamie wasn't sure what had awakened her. Then she heard it again. A telephone ringing. Slowly, she crept up the attic stairs. She had to answer the phone. She had to listen to the voice that whispered through the receiver. And then, she had to do its horrifying bidding.