Creepy - Day 10 - Voicemail Transciption [Beta]

Episode Date: October 10, 2018

Don't answer that call...***Written by: Justus Burkitt and guest narrated by Danielle Hewitt***Check out more from the Enoch Saga podcast at:  https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/bad-movie-night-podcast/id1176160601?mt=2***Please consider supporting the podcast at Patreon.com/Creepypod or creepypod.com/support***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQ3SrH_3fsROXFAjomKcUtw***Produced by Pacific Obadiah***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

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Whether these stories truly happened or our simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy Presents The 31 Days of Horror. Day 10. Voicemail transcription beta. Written by Justice Burkett with guest narration by Danielle Hewitt.

Creepy Presents Voicemail Transcript Beta by Kill Your Masters Narrated by Daniel Hewitt If you're an iPhone user, you're probably familiar with voicemail transcription. I don't know if other smartphones have this as well. I've been an Applegirl since day one.

I wanted to share a weird experience I've had with this feature in the past few weeks. It started just after Thanksgiving. I was feeling a little down on myself after picking out on pie and mashed potatoes, so I shamed myself into checking out a local gym. I got a free trial, which I used for a couple days, but I ended up not buying a membership. Money's tight enough as it is, and my temporary motivation had faded. If you've ever done a free trial at a gym before, you know that they nag you constantly after the trial ends to try to get you to sign up for a full membership.

I was getting three calls and two emails a day from the gym, and no matter how many times I told them to stop calling me, it never worked. The calls would come from a variety of numbers. Some were just from the gym's main office line, others from cell phones of competing employees who get paid commission for selling memberships, and still others from the corporate headquarters of the gym's parent company. I got so sick of it after a few days that I downloaded an app, which detects calls from unknown numbers. Cross references them with a user-submitted database of spam numbers, telemarketers, and other callers one might want to avoid. It doesn't block the calls, but it alerts you if the number is listed in their database. From then on, when I'd get a call from anyone working at the gym, it would be displayed on my screen like this.

Right caller ID, Valley Fitness. I could then ignore the call and usually they'd leave a voicemail, which I would delete. Occasionally, I'd get other spam calls which would be flagged by the app. Overall, it proved very useful. A few days after installing the app, I got the first of several strange calls. The number was blocked. The display simply said anonymous. below which there was an alert generated by the app.

Write caller ID. Do not answer. Now, as I said before, the database which the app utilizes is based on users submitted information. Each user can submit a phone number and a description of the caller to the database. And other users will see that description displayed if the same number calls them. It struck me as odd that someone had entered this number simply as, do not answer, rather than listing the company name or just writing spam. But I shrugged it off easily. I ignored the call. A few minutes later, my phone chimed to let me know I had a new voicemail.

I opened up the voicemail box. The anonymous number had left me a message over two minutes long. I didn't feel like listening to some robocall rambling on about how I'd won a Caribbean cruise for two minutes, but I also wanted to make sure that the call hadn't been incorrectly flagged and it was actually important. I tapped the message once and the voicemail transcription box opened up. Transcription beta. Here I am. I am looking. I know what. Don't. I want. Um. As many of you know, the underscores are used by the transcription feature as a placeholder for words that are unintelligible. Wondering what the voicemail could be about and a little confused that the transcript was so short for a two-minute voicemail, I decided to listen.

The message was just soft static, with a few clicks and thumps in the background. It sounded like someone had pocket-dialed me. I listened to the whole thing. There was no voice, no words. A little confused, but unconcerned, I deleted the voicemail and went on about my day. The next day, I had just gotten home from work when I got another call. Anonymous. Right caller ID. Do not answer. I let the call go unanswered. Figuring the same person who accidentally dialed my number yesterday must have done it again. I wasn't surprised when the phone alerted me of a new voicemail. This one was only six seconds long. Out of curiosity, I opened up the transcript.

Transcription beta. I can, I can, I can, I can, I can, I can see you. I can feel you. I can, I can, I can, I can. and taste you. At this point, I was still sure that the transcript was just picking up random sounds and mistakenly interpreting them for words. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little freaked out. I warily hit play and listen to the voicemail. Nothing.

Just static and a couple of little bumps. I was relieved. It was just the transcription feature glitching out after all. The next call I received was a couple days later. In the middle of the night, grogly I awoke to the sounds of my phone ringing, staring bleakly at the screen. Anonymous. Right caller ID. Do not answer. I sighed in irritation and rejected the call. A few seconds later, the voicemail arrived. Transcription beta. Come out and play. Here. Come out.

A chill ran down my spine. It didn't help. that I was in bed, in the pitch dark, all alone. I listened to the message. I'm not sure if it was my sleep-addled mind playing tricks on me, but this time, under the static, muffled background noises, I thought I could almost hear a low whispering voice. It was barely audible. I couldn't make out the words. Maybe it was all in my head, but it was enough to keep me from sleeping for a couple hours. I kept thinking I heard soft footsteps and creaking of the floorboards in the hall outside my bedroom. I got up and check the doors. All locked.

No sign of anything amiss. I went back to bed feeling silly. Eventually I fell into a shallow and restless sleep. I didn't get another call until last week. I had just left the office, and even though it was only five o'clock, it was already pretty dark. Snow was falling slowly, and with it descended that muffled. quiet that snowstorms often bring. My ringing phones sounded jarringly loud in contrast.

Anonymous. Right color ID. Do not answer. My heart skipped a beat. I don't think I realized how afraid I was of these mysterious calls until this one arrived. So unexpectedly, so long after the last, I scolded myself. They were just pocket dials being poorly transcribed by a beta smartphone feature. nothing to get worked up about. I checked the voicemail when it arrived, consciously composing myself. Transcription beta. Behind you. I can see you. Come, come, come, come, come.

Involuntarily, I looked over my shoulder. At first, all I saw was a couple of my co-workers in the distance, also leaving the office. Then my eyes were drawn to the left of the building, where there was a figure standing just outside of the street light. shrouded in shadow. It looked like a tall man wearing a long coat with the hood up. He was too far away for me to make out any features. But his body was angled in such a way that it was clear he was facing my direction. The longer I looked at him, the more sure I became that there was something threatening about his posture.

I quickly got in my car and locked the doors. Once there, I looked back to the spot where he had been. But he was gone. I listened to the voicemail as the car wore. warmed up. Static, clicks, and unmistakably, a voice. The words were still too hard to make out,

covered as they were by the static. There was no doubt in my mind that there was a person speaking this time. I drove home and locked the doors right away, peeking out through my curtains occasionally, but there was no sign of the man. I ate dinner and watched TV, but my anxiety didn't go away.

My phone rang. And I jumped. I looked at the screen apprehensively. There was a number. It wasn't anonymous. Right caller ID, Valley Fitness. I sighed. How would I let myself get so wound up over a few weird calls?

I began to wonder if someone was pranking me. I decided the next time the anonymous number called, I'd pick up and confront them. I got the chance that weekend. When I was at a friend's Christmas party, I could barely hear my ringtone over the happy clamor of the party, but I could feel the vibration in my pocket. I looked at the screen and in spite of myself, I shuddered. Anonymous. The right caller ID cannot answer.

I excused myself from the room, went outside and answered the phone. Hello? I said angrily. Who is this? On the other end, I heard the familiar static. I waited for a response. Nothing. Listen, I continued. I don't know who you are, but this isn't funny.

Over the phone, I heard a slow rattle. It was someone breathing. It got angrier. Stop calling this number, I said, raising my voice. There was a long pause. Just as I was about to hang up, a raspy whispering voice cut through the static. It spoke chopily, with long pause. between each word. With that, the line went dead. I was shaken, but I still thought it was just

someone messing with me. I went back to the party and tried to forget about the whole thing. I'm not going to lie, I overindulged in the eggnog a little bit after that. The alcohol helped push the creepy calls out of my mind. As the party began to clear out, I realized I was in no shape to drive home. The friend of mine who was hosting the party graciously offered to let me sleep on the couch, an offer which I accepted in part due to the little lingering fear of returning home. The next morning when I went back to the house, head pounding from the previous night's revelries, I found a piece of paper on the floor that had been shoved under my door. I picked it up and unfolded it. There was a short message scrawled in messy black ink. Next time. That was the last straw.

I was really starting to get freaked out. I called the police and gave them a statement. They took the note as evidence and went through the voicemails on my phone that I hadn't deleted and assured me they'd let me know if they found anything. I asked if they thought if it was safe to stay in my home, and they told me it should be. More than likely, it really was just one of my friends or co-workers pulling a break. They advised me to lock the doors in windows and to call immediately if anything strange happened. That night as I slept, I kept thinking I heard scratching and tapping at my window. But each time I checked, there was nothing there.

Once, I almost thought I saw a tall, dark figure across the street, just out of the illuminating glow of the street light. But when I blinked, it seemed to vanish without a trace. That brings me to today. I got another call a little while ago, and another voicemail. I don't know what to do. I told the police about it, but they told me they haven't seen any convincing evidence that I'm in any danger.

They told me I should just stay put and not answer any more calls. Eventually the prankstool get bored and stopped, they say. I want to believe them. But there's two things that are scaring me more and more now as I sit in my house alone and the daylight slips away into darkness. The voicemail was just crackling static and faint whispers, but the transcript picked up a single word. Transcription to you know.

More disturbing than the same. More disturbing than that, though, was what showed up on my screen when I received the call. Anonymous. Right caller ID. Run. Kizzy stared at the northwest horizon. The crows were coming again. I can do this. Kizzy's stomach twisted and her brow began to sweat. It was her job to kill the crows. We need to talk about this. Kizzy froze. Hey, geez. You scared the hell.

out of me. What are you doing? Kizzy's spine was tingling as she approached the house. Hello? A strange smell floated out from the house. Kizzy couldn't see very far inside. It was too dark. She stuck her head in over the threshold. Hello? Is anyone home? I'm worried my mom is getting suspicious. I think we should be going. On the back of the record here, there's a map of some sort. So where in the woods are we going to bury this? Just wait a second. What is it? Come on. I don't think it's such a good idea to go out into the woods tonight.

Why not? There's something out there. Gets out! Kizzy's heart gets to beat when she laid eyes upon it. Though all this be okay here? My mom never comes out here. So every living person owed their life to Dr. Enoch, and they were reminded of it every day when they took their pill.

Well, I just hate to see your family lose your farm. What do you want me to do? We'll wait until the time is right, Kizzy. We have all the time in the world now, don't we? The Enoch saga. Become a mortal. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast, or to suggest stories for future episodes, please visit us.

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