I just moved in to the new house on Likini street. I was alone one night when I received a text message. It wasn’t coming from a specific number with the 808 area code, it was a bunch of gargled numbers instead. 39013901390139013901.
“Help,”
“Help what?” I replied.
“You,” the text answered.
“Me, ?” I asked.
“In your room,”
I called the number and a second later there was a muffled ringing coming from underneath the floor boards. I followed the sound and from the corner of my room through the cracks beneath my feet, I could see a pulsating light.
“Is this you underneath me?” I texted.
“Yes ” It replied.
“What do you want? ” I texted back.
This time it sent a picture. In It was something bloody and broken. It’s jaw was disconnected from it’s head and hung to one side. The hair was matted with sweat and brain matter and one arm dangled from its socket while the rest of it hung from the ceiling above me.
“Run,” came the text.
….
I could not have left the old house fast enough. It was late at night but thank goodness for the ambient noise from one street over. I felt like I was somewhat safe, I happened to glance at my mail box for some reason and it hit me, 3901 is my address.
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