The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings - Lot 097 : Death Date

Episode Date: October 17, 2025

Lot 097 : Death Date Written by Quincy LeeStarring Trevor ShandJeffrey Allen SneedDee QuinteroRomy EvansMelanie Rose https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/13irivz/theres_a_secret_number_you_can_text_to_find_out/ Featuring Stephen Knowles as The Antique Dealer Theme music by The Newton Brothers Additional music byCO.AG ([e-mail]) Vivek Abhishek Kevin MacLeod SUBSCRIBE to them on YOUTUBE: / vivekhsihba  LIKE them on FACEBOOK:  https://rb.gy/nhgn0iFollow them on Spotify/ iTunes/ Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/rxdcjqt Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Mind your step, friend. The reinsman playing the fool with the cobblestones again. Now then, we've just cataloged this curious pair of spectacles. Note the fracture through both lenses. Clean, even. As if something struck them from the inside. They were found on the stoop of a townhouse in New Jersey. The owner was nowhere to be found.

Only his recording. remained. He was quite fond of technology, I'm told. Texting, videos, those glowing rectangles everyone carries about. Sometimes, though, the wrong message finds its way back. Lord 097, there's a secret number you can text to find your death date. Before we begin, I want to point out some of the customers whose names have been etched in brass on this beautiful plaque I had made above the front desk. These are some of the members

of the inner circle of the antiquarium. We go by the Obsidian Covenant. Recent initiates include Taylor Pyle, Debbie Farber, Chantal Rockman, Kristen Evans,

Jason Harrison, Deborah, Lollipop Torid, and Electra livery. We are ever appreciative of your devotion to the order. Go to the obsidian covenant.com to receive the sacrament. Now, where were we? Oh yes. Welcome to the antiquarium of sinister happenings. and odd goings on.

There's a secret number you can text to find out your death date. Just texted the number. My brother, June, his wife May, our cousins, Clara, and Phil, and their partners, and me. The only single among the couples at our backyard barbecue.

I was turning the dogs on the grill when June brought it up, claiming to have overheard some of the tech bros at work discussing it. You just text, what is my death date, and it'll tell you when you're gonna die. No way. You're shitting me.

Bullshit. June's been a champion bullshitter since we were little. He and I were notorious in school. The brothers Gin and June. Famous for pranking our teachers and classmates and even the principal ones when June unleashed a science classroom strantula on her desk. Yeah. I often got dragged in, but it was really my diabolical little brother who came up with the schemes.

When he met May in college, whose name I like to think is short for, Mayhem. The two hit it off like firecrackers. each trying to one up the other with their shenanigans. So this death date business? Yeah, classic June bullshit. He was showing off his phone screen. His death date was tomorrow.

Coincidentally, his birthday. In rapid succession, we all texted the number and compared responses. June, 1159 a.m. October 13th, 2025. 11th, 2035. And me. 9.49 p.m. October 16th. And so forth. May was apparently June's accomplice for this death date prank. She handed it up, pretending to be freaked out asking him, wasn't he worried about dying tomorrow? June declared he would lock himself up in his room until his time was up at 11.59 a.m. Of course, he made a big production of it the next day. Texting updates all through the fucking morning.

10 a.m. Still here. 11 a.m. 59 minutes to go. Stuff like that. And then, after the clock struck noon, June's texts just stopped. When everyone arrived later that evening for his birthday, May was fluttering around like a lost bird,

claiming she'd come home from work and couldn't find June anywhere. My parents insisted I call his work, and honey, we know it's just June being June, but find out if he clocked in. Just then he waltzed through the front door, cackling about how he'd gotten messages from so many people worried about him. Even his boss at work, and how funny it was that his prank spread so far. All so completely fucking staged. You know, sometimes I wanted to strangle my little brother.

So who were we actually texting to get those made-up death dates? Turned out, we'd been texting Aisha, the girl he'd met and was planning to set me up with. Nice of them, though these kind of dates rarely worked to. my favor. So while everyone was cutting the cake, I added the number to my contacts and went ahead and messaged her. Hey, death date girl. Aisha, right? Gin here. So my little bro dragged you into one of his evil schemes? 49 p.m. October 16th, 2025. L.O.L. Good one, but he already came. I frowned, as I noticed something that I hadn't the first time around. I showed the group my phone.

Guys, I don't think this is Aisha. General scoffs all around. Because, of course, they thought I was kidding. But then I opened the contact so they could see the number. Turns out, I'd been one digit off this whole time. Everyone else had been messaging the real Aisha and getting made up death dates from her for June's prank. but I'd messaged someone else.

When they realized this, the group sobered up pretty quickly. Well, well, well, who did you text them? I have no idea. Ask them who they are. So I did. 9.49 p.m. October 16th, 20, 25. Ooh, let me try. May tapped a mystery number into her phone and whizzed off a text.

And almost immediately a bell chime. with the response. 12.33 a.m. October 16th. 2025. The same day as mine, but hours earlier. Oh my God, you guys. Chills. That is creepy.

You set this up. No, no, I swear. As I was heading back home later, June approached me. He seemed annoyed, convinced either I or someone else was copying his idea, which he claimed wasn't funny since he'd already done it. Apparently, he really wanted to know who was. behind it. I told him I had no clue. But just as asking, set a cold pin of anxiety in my brain. If it wasn't someone in our family group, whose number was that?

Imagining some stranger texting back sent icy fingers tracing the flesh of my neck. June grumbled that it was probably May, then smiled and encouraged me to give Aisha a ring. Try to be cool and less of a stick in the mud? I think the word you're looking for is responsible, serious, mature. All synonyms for boring. I flipped him the bird. And then I forgot about the whole death date thing for a couple of days.

I didn't even remember it until today. When I went to message Aisha and got that same response. 9.49 p.m. October 16th, 20, 25. Shit. I'd forgotten to delete the death date number from my contacts after putting her name it. I did so now.

I was about to message the real Aisha when curiosity brought me back to the death date number again. Now just coming up as unknown on my phone. Today was the 16th. Supposedly my death date. I messaged. Who is this? 9.49 p.m. October 16th.

2025. Fuck it. I borrowed a co-worker's phone. asking if I could send a quick text, and I sent the original question again to that same unknown number. When is my... 949 p.m. October 16th, 20, 25. Ah. The hairs on the back of my neck. How the hell had this number responded with the same exact date and time to a completely different phone?

How did it know was me? The sudden, icy grip of fear was impossible to ignore. I called June, but it went to voicemail. Moments later, my phone buzzed. Sent a rapid series of texts explaining. October 16th, 2025, seven minutes before yours. RIP us. It's probably man-praking us.

A few hours later, June met me at my townhouse. He told me flatly that he couldn't figure out who owned the number. And it struck me that, given he works at a tech company, he'd probably tried all sorts of tricks to track it down. annoying as he could be, he's incredibly smart. The fact he hadn't figured out where it came from made the knot in my gut. Titan. A horrible dread settled over me.

I'm sure it's just May. She's been out all day and hasn't been responded in my text. Bet she set this whole thing up just to freak us out. June spoke casually, rolling his eyes as he took off his glasses to clean them. When did you last see her? Wasn't her death date supposed to be this morning? Not since last night. She left her work early.

But it's all part of her prank. He didn't like to admit when something got under his skin, ever. But fiddling with his glasses was something he often did when he was nervous. As he wiped away some imaginary speck of dust, I could spot the tension around his eyes. The way his smile didn't reach them. I called May's phone. Straight to voicemail.

She's out of show with Clara and her mom. Been going on about it all week. No coincidence, the show ends just a half an hour before our death date. give her enough time to rush over and scare us. It's part of the whole thing. Trust me, she'll be here soon enough. And then he grinned, pointing at my laptop. Oh, you got the camera on!

You're recording this! Yeah, I figure why not captured on video. I also took screenshots of all the messages about my death date. Documenting. Just in case... Well, just in case. That's great, man. Oh, you should put it on TikTok.

There's a big audience for the spooky stuff and pranks. Zero interest. 939. Still no answer. from May. Suddenly, my phone vibrated. June always kept his on silent, but his eyes darted to it when the screen lit up. He blinked, showed it to me. We both had the same text. Knock, knock. You'll forgive me. There's someone at the front door. I don't recall locking it,

and yet, please don't answer any knocks while I'm gone. please do so with the town and have a great spot a dog collar from you guys you had said the last person that brought it in was acting real stir crazy and going just absolutely off the walls and i think i'm starting to understand why they were like that you see i got home and i put that dog collar right on my dog's neck do this little thing in the entire world now everything was going smooth fine you know i didn't think too much of it but Then I lived by myself, and then I heard a voice. And this voice sounded like real low and guttural.

Kind of freaks me out a little bit. And I was like, okay, who's in my house right now? Somebody break in? And I go around the corner, and I see my dog. And he's just talking to me. He's saying some really weird things, though. That was, I think, the biggest problem is, yeah, he was saying, we are Legion. Hell will take over.

And afterwards, he started, I guess, like, speaking Latin. I'm not, like, proficient in the language by any means, but he was speaking a very interesting new language that I was not familiar with. And should I be concerned? Like, there's a... Every now and then I'm hearing some scrapes along the walls. Don't see anything, but the scrapes are still there. My couch called on fire, too.

I was able to put that out. I had a bucket of water. so I'm on pot of water, but yeah, should I be concerned? Just want a heads up. You know what I'm getting into. Thank you. All right, then. False alarm must have been the wind

or something that wished to be. Now, shall we? Suddenly, my phone vibrated. June always kept his on silent, but his eyes darted to it when the screen lit up. He blinked. Showed it to me. Both had the same text.

Knock, knock. Oh, May is good. I take it back. She's giving us a good scare. May, that you? I was too freaked out to say anything. I just really hoped it was May. There was tension in his frame as he called again.

Then he pulled out his phone, rang May. Put the phone to his ear and snickered. I heard it too. May's ringtone. She was outside. June set his phone down and called out Gotcha, May! We know it's you! Be back in a sec. My phone buzzed again.

Knock. From downstairs, the click of the front door latch. I looked at the time on my phone. 9.41. June's time was almost up. May really did plan it all perfectly so she could arrive right when he was supposed to meet his end. I heard June calling out the front door from May. Probably hiding somewhere to pounce on him. A moment later, I heard the scuff of him putting his shoes on and stepping outside. My phone buzzed.

I waited, tapping my fingers anxiously on the desk. I was about to get up and go after him when my phone buzzed again. This time it wasn't June or the unknown number. It was Cousin Clara. Hey, have you heard from May? Yeah, why? Thank goodness. She was supposed to meet me and mom.

the big show, we got really worried. All our calls went to voicemail. Can you ask her why she didn't come? The show. June had mentioned the show, too. And now I remembered May talking about that show at the barbecue, how she'd spent weeks trying to get those tickets. And she'd missed it? A sudden sickness twisted in my stomach. The dread dialing up from a tingle to a horrid lurch like the floor had just been ripped out from under me. I hollered. Joan! Did you find her?

Knock, knock. It wasn't down the steps at the front of the building. But right outside, my living room door. I hadn't heard any footsteps come up the stairs. Uh, hello? Let us in. Relief fluttered me at the sound of his voice.

I got up from my laptop and reached for the knob. I don't know why I hesitated suddenly. I just the feeling of dread was like a noose being pulled around my neck, cutting off the hair. A warning. Some primitive instinct. Why hadn't there been footsteps? I called June's phone. It rang for a while, then went to voicemail.

Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message. Why aren't you answering your phone, man? Because I'm right outside the door. How do I know it's you, man? His refusal to answer his phone stuck in my mind like a chicken bone caught in my throat. Explosion of my phone's ringtone made me jump. I picked up the call, and June's voice said into my ear. Happy now?

Yes. And I can almost hear his smile. Let us in. No, my phone buzzed. Let us in. I quickly tapped back after 9.50 p.m. Seriously? He knocked on the door.

Let us in, you're being ridiculous, bro. Where's May? Open the door. In five minutes. October 16th, 2025 at 9.49 p.m. The message had said, it was currently 9.45 p.m. You seriously want us to just stand out here in your hallway for five minutes? Come on!

Open the door! Let us in! But the more they demanded, I opened the door. The more my pulse raced and my hands slicked with sweat. I was genuinely afraid, and I refused to open that door. The shouting and pleading continued, and my phone suddenly began vibrating so much that I had to snatch it up to prevent it from falling off the desk. The texts were coming nonstop as the door kept rattling. At 9.49 p.m., the sounds suddenly ceased.

I waited several minutes, frozen in terror, and finally went to the door, dirty tracks. Strange. June always removed his shoes before coming up. The front door was wide open, a cool breeze blowing in. I wandered down and peeked outside. Something cracked under my shoe, June's glasses, back upstairs and called his phone again, hoping he'd pick up. There was no answer.

I called and called. Nothing. I was just about to go out and look for him again when I noticed something face down on the sofa. His phone, he must have left it in my living room when he went down to get May. I picked it up and saw my missed calls, as well as a bunch of texts from Clara asking about May in the show. So he knew May was missing before he arrived.

Anyway, it was so tense, but he didn't want to admit it, thinking she was just one-uping him on his prank. That also explained why he'd been so relieved in such a hurry to go meet her when he'd hurt a ringtone. I also checked his text history. None of his knock-knock messages came from this phone. It's now near 10.30 according to the analog clock on my bookshelf. And I freaked out. Because my phone and laptop are both frozen at 9.49 p.m. and have been for the past half hour. I tried calling mom, calling dad, or cousin Clara, or anybody. But the line has been. No matter who I ring.

It's busy. We're sorry you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. Like all the frozen technology isn't working, except for the camera still recording this. So that's what I'm doing, documenting. Praying, I'll be able to share this and just bust. And now the phone slips out of my fingers. An icy claws right down my spine because the knocking came from inside the room. I remember how I peaked out the door earlier before I realized the clocks were frozen.

And tabs are opening up on my laptop and now the recording is uploading. And let me help you go viral flashes on the screen as June's voice chuckles like he always did. When he landed a really good prank back when he was alive. And he whispers right in my ear. Thanks for letting me in. Thank you for your patronage. Hope you enjoyed your new relic as much as I've enjoyed passing along its sordid history. It does come with our usual warning, however.

Absolutely no refunds, no exchanges, and we won't be held liable for anything that may or may not occur while the object is in your possession. If you've got an artifact with mysterious properties, perhaps it's accompanied by a history of bizarre and disturbing circumstances, Maybe you'd be interested in dropping it and its story by the shop to share with other customers. Please reach out to Antiquarium Shop at gmail.com. A member of our team will be in touch. Till next time, we'll be waiting for you whenever you close your eyes. In the space between sleep and dream. During regular business hours, of course, or by appointment, only for you, our best customer.

The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings, Lot 097, Death Date, Written by Quincy Lee, starring Trevor Shand, Jeffrey Allen Sneed, D. Quintero, Romney Evans, and Melanie Rose. Featuring Stephen Knowles as the antique dealer. Engineering, production and sound design by Trevor Shand. Theme music by the Newton Brothers. Additional music by Coag, Vivek Abacheck, and Kevin McLeod. The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings is created and curated by Trevor and Lauren Shand. Follow us on Instagram and Twitter at Antiquarium Pod. Call the Antiquarium at 646-481-7197.