CALL FROM MY DEAD GRANDMA

I didn’t believe in ghosts. Not in messages from beyond. Not in any of that stuff people post online when they’re bored or grieving. That changed the night my phone rang at 2:13 a.m. The caller ID lit up with a name I hadn’t seen in months: Grandma Rose. I froze. My grandmother had been dead for six months. I had stood at her burial. I had thrown soil on her coffin with shaking hands. I had watched them lower her into the ground while my mother sobbed beside me. Dead people don’t call. But the phone kept ringing. Against every instinct screaming in my chest, I answered. For a moment, there was only silence. Then— “Lina…” Her voice. Soft. Raspy. Familiar in a way that made my stomach twist. I dropped the phone so hard it hit the floor. The call ended. My heart hammered like it wanted out of my chest. I told myself it was a prank. A recording. Some twisted scam. But then a message appeared. Unknown Number: Don’t trust your uncle. I stared at the screen until my vision blurred. My uncle? The only family member who had been helping us after Grandma died? The one who paid the bills? I laughed once—sharp and nervous. “This is insane.” I turned off my phone and went to bed. But sleep didn’t come. At 3:07 a.m., my phone turned itself back on. And rang again. Grandma Rose. This time, I answered immediately. “Who is this?” I demanded. “This isn’t funny.” Silence. Then her voice again, closer this time. “You’re in danger, Lina.” My throat went dry. “Grandma?” A pause. Then— “They lied about my death.” My blood turned cold. I sat up in bed. “What are you talking about? You had a heart attack.” “No,” she whispered. “I didn’t.” The line crackled. A strange static filled my ears, like wind through broken glass. Then another message came through. Unknown Number: Go to the attic. Now. I shouldn’t have listened. But I did. The house was silent as I climbed the stairs. Every step felt heavier than the last. The attic door groaned open like it didn’t want to. Dust. Old boxes. Forgotten memories. And a locked wooden chest I had never seen before. My hands shook as I forced it open. Inside were hospital records. Police reports. And a flash drive labeled in shaky handwriting: “If anything happens to me — show Lina.” My phone rang again. Grandma Rose. I put it on speaker without thinking. “This is what they didn’t want you to find,” her voice said. My knees weakened. “Grandma… how is this possible?” A long pause. Then her voice cracked slightly. “Because I didn’t die, Lina.” I stopped breathing. “They made it look like I did.” The room suddenly felt too small. “Who?” I whispered. Static filled the line. Then one final message appeared on my phone: Unknown Number: Your uncle is coming upstairs. From downstairs, I heard a door open. Slow footsteps. Coming up. I stared at the attic door, heart pounding so hard I thought it might give me away. Grandma’s voice came one last time, softer than ever: “Run.” The line went dead. And the stairs creaked again.