Producer’s note: Someone on Quora asked: Do you have any true demonic stories/encounters to share? Here is one of the best answers that’s been pulled from the thread.
I was a young man, in my mid 20s. I frequently chose to work graveyard shift wherever I was. During a widely transitional period of my life I was working at a service station.
Around 3 AM one Wednesday morning, an older vehicle exited the highway, tires screeching, and pulled into the self-service fuel stop. I prepared myself for the robbery, made certain the doors were secured and waited. A disheveled blonde lady, in a black dress ran toward the building, bag in hand. She stopped at the window. “You have to help me,” she started, and before I could utter, “Ma’am I can’t leave the building”, she produced an old black AT&T table phone from the bag. “They’re after me, they won’t leave me alone, they keep finding me. This has to be how!”
Mind you, on overnight, I’d seen my share of crazies, scam artists and criminals, she was different though, she was obviously certain this phone was the source of her woes, and she was legitimately petrified.
“Okay Miss, just leave it here, I’ll get rid of it for you.” It was a quality phone, one of those old 10 pounders you could hear ringing three doors down, and well she was obviously crazy, so what could it hurt, right?
I kept and used the phone, probably for a month or so until I decided I’d be moving on. Continuing with the adventure of my life, I decided I needed a change of scenery, and departed for my boyhood hometown. I’d stay with my older brother until I established myself. The third floor of his home wasn’t being used. I’d stay up there.
I’d been there three days, hadn’t really even unpacked yet. I had a job waiting for me up there, and I’d get things in order when the weekend came around. I got home one evening, my brothers wife met me.
“Al, how did you get the phone company here so fast? I didn’t even see the truck!”
“Phone company? They won’t be out till next week, why?”
“Well… Your phone has been ringing all day.”
Hmmmm. Well, I’d only brought one phone with me, and yeah you guessed it, Black AT&T table phone. Two problems. Problem one, it hadn’t yet been unpacked. Problem two, even if it had, no wiring or phone service to that floor.
“Are you sure it was my phone, not something on the TV, or maybe next door?”
“No, she answered. “It’s your phone, I could hear it on the stairs to the third floor.”
I’d showered, waited for my brother to get home and when he did, we sat down for dinner. Ten minutes into the meal, the ebony princess started ringing. I ignored it, and after a dozen or so rings it stopped. Five minutes later it started again, and I couldn’t pretend I didn’t hear it again.
“Go answer the damned thing,” my brother said. Musing at his choice of words, I took the two flights of stairs, and saw the phone sitting on the nightstand next to my desk. There it sat, no wires attached, ringing away. Putting aside the question of how the hell it got unpacked, and what static electrical phenomena was making it ring, I answered the phone. What I heard was mostly static, crackling on the line, and off in the distance something like low moaning from multiple sources. Right before I slammed the handset down, I swear I heard a low guttural voice ask me, “Where are you?”
That was the last night I ever saw the phone. I picked it up off the table, took it down to my car, drove to the Genesee River and promptly threw it in.
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