Stolen Memories

A guy finds an old phone in his locker with memories that don't belong to him, or do they. My name is Edwin and here's a scary story. An old, dusty hoodie was at the bottom of my locker. I stretched it out in front of an old friend of mine, who was more excited about it than I was. It was a sweater I took off in missus Burson's class because she said it was going to catch on fire. During chem lab, Paul, my best friend, was trying to get some help in opening his locker. The guy always forgot his combination, and it was probably his fourth or fifth lock that year. Fortunately, we wouldn't have to worry about it for a while. We were about to be seniors and it was about to be summer break. So there I was cleaning out my locker as I had to do, and everyone else was doing old candy wrappers, sheets of paper with big red circles and numbers notes we had passed in class, and stuck at the bottom of the corner, almost wedged against the bottom of the locker itself, was a cell phone. I didn't remember ever having it or borrowing it from anybody. I thought that maybe someone had gotten the wrong locker and placed it in there, but the lock was mine and no one else had been sharing it with me. Had it been somewhere in between my books one day and it just stayed there? My stuff was set on the floor. Now when I inspected it, an iPhone, an older one, maybe the eight or ten. I think they had skipped nine for some reason. I couldn't remember it either way. It didn't look familiar. Its screen was scratched. It looked like it had been damaged from where you put the cable to charge it. The hallway was becoming empty now, and I wasn't even halfway done with separating the trash from what I was going to be taking home that day. So I did what I always do it and instead stuffed everything in the grocery store plastic bag, and then I put that into my backpack. I would deal with it later, but the phone, that thing was going to stay with me. I needed to find out who it belonged to, or at least was in it, And so I gave the locker one last look, and I held the phone and the combination lock in the same hand, and then I slammed the locker shut one last time, and I knew something was weird about it. Maybe it was the faded out color of the phone, how it felt it was so much lighter than the phone's today. An actual button was on it, but beyond that, I kept wondering what it was doing in my locker. Part of me seemed to remember it, holding it and putting it away, and the other part knew that I had never lost a phone, and there was nothing that would have gotten my parents to replace it for me. The curiosity was killing me. No one was home when I got there. I called out to my mom since her car was out in the front, but my voice echoed down the hallway. It was completely empty. I went straight to my room to connect the phone to the cable next to my bed. The screen was still completely black and no signs of it turning on. I figured it needed some time for it to charge up. I mean, there were some devices that needed that, so I left it. I went to the fridge and made myself a sandwich. I kept getting a strange feeling, though, like long forgotten secrets being told to me again. I heard a sound from my room, the distinct buzzing of a phone, so I rushed back there and watched the phone screen turn on. I pressed the button and the main screen actually showed up. There was no lock screen, no password. My stomach twisted. Behind the old app icons, there was a photo a birthday party, candles glowing against the lens of the camera that took it. There was a little kid, me grinning at the camera. I felt my chest tightened. It was my phone. Although nothing made sense. I had never used it. My phone was the one that had gotten recently. I never had this other one, and I couldn't even tell what version it was. But still, why was there a picture of me? I wouldn't do that myself even now. I went straight for the photos app to find hundreds of family moments, pictures of get togethers and vacations, random school days, some from a long time ago and others from the same month. And then I spotted another photo from yesterday as I scrolled, although I was in all of them, but then I noticed something. The dark image as the most recent one I could see it. It was my bed, a half felt bottle of water on the night stand, the green alarm clock showing two forty two am on it. Someone had been in my room last night. My hands went cold even as I gripped that phone, but then I felt it. It vibrated through my hands and of my arms, transforming into a chill that ran from my shoulders and down my back. A message had popped up on the screen, an old style notification from the Messages app. You shouldn't have turned it on, it read. I stared at it before it vibrated again, to look at the videos. Then I heard the sound that beeps when you plug in your phone, likely from a loose connection. And then, without even thinking about it, I went straight to the video album. My heart was hammering so hard I could hear it in my ears. The video album loaded and a row of thumbnails appeared. There were dozens, no hundreds of them, all with vague, unhelpful preview images. Some were just darkness, and others were blurry streaks of movement. The most recent one sat at the top, the timestamp two forty two am, the exact same time as a photo. I swallowed. My throat was dry, my finger hovered over the screen, a cold sweat forming on my palms. I didn't want to press play, but I did. The screen out to black for a moment before it started. It was my room. The dim glow of my alarm clock cast a faint green light across the walls. Everything was still and silent, and then there was movement. At first, it was subtle, the slightest shift in the darkness, and then slowly something stepped into frame. My breath got caught in my throat. A figure stood at the foot of my bed. It was hard to make out. The shadows clung to it unnaturally, like it wasn't just standing in the dark, but made of it. Its shape was vaguely human, but not Its limbs were too long, its head tilted at an unnatural angle, and it didn't move. It just stood there, watching. And then the worst part, the camera moved. I barely registered the sound that escaped my lips, a choked, horrified gasp, because this wasn't just security footage. This wasn't some hidden camera in my room. Someone was holding the phone. Whoever or whatever was standing there had taken this video, and that meant I'd been here, right here in my room. I scrambled off the bed so fast my knee hit the nightstand, sending the water bottle crashing to the floor. But I didn't care. My eyes darted around the room, the phone still clutched in my shaking hands. I turned on the lamp. The sudden light burned my retinas, but I didn't care. Nothing. The room was empty. The closet was opened to crack, but it had been like that before. The shadow sat still, undisturbed. I turned back to the video. The footage was still playing. I could see the figure at the foot of my bed, and it was stepping closer. A sound crackled through the speaker, a low, distorted breathing. I was in the video, fast asleep, completely unaware. The camera angle shifted slightly, like the person holding it was adjusting their grip, and then it moved, not fully awake, but shifting in my sleep, like I sent something standing there, and the breathing stopped. The camera held steady, and for a moment nothing happened, and then, just as I settled back into stillness, the figure lunged forward and the screen went black. I threw the phone across the room. I hit the wall with a sharp crack, and landed face down on the carpet. My whole body was trembling, my breath coming in ragged gasps. That thing, that thing had been in my room last night, inches away from me, watching recording, and I never woke up. The thought made my skin crawl. My instincts screamed at me to get out of this house, to run, to burn that phone and never touch it again. Something else, something deeper, kept me rooted in place, the question how long has this been happening? Because if there were hundreds of videos on that phone, that meant last night was not the first time the phone vibrated. I jumped so hard I nearly tripped over myself. I lay motionless on the floor. It scratched, screen, glowing faintly. Another message appeared, you shouldn't have done that, and then a second message followed, you can't erase what's already taken. The room suddenly felt too small. My head was spinning. I didn't want to check the phone again, but I had to. I picked it up, my hands still shaking, and I pressed the button to unlock the screen. The messages were still there, but something else had changed. A new album had appeared in the gallery, and it had a name, my name Thomas, and in parentheses previous owner. My breath hitched previous owner. My fingers trembled as I scrolled down. There were more names, Eric previous owner, Daniel previous owner, Megan previous owner, Dozens and dozens of them. Some names felt vaguely familiar, like classmates I hadn't thought about in years. Others meant nothing at all but my name. Why. Something cold settled in my stomach. My fingers felt numb, but they moved on their own. Hovering over the folder, every part of me screamed, don't open it. But at this point I needed to know, and I tapped it and it opened. Inside were hundreds of videos, more than in the main gallery. The thumbnails were the same, dark, grainy, motion blurred, but once stood out. The title wasn't a date or a timestamp like the others, It was a single word. Watch. My body felt frozen, locked in place. Put my thumb pressed down anyway, and the video started. It was in my room. It was a different bedroom, but similar, plain walls, messy bed, a lamp casting a dim yellow light. The camera was shaky, like whoever was recording had unsteady hands. A boy sat on the bed, his head down, gripping the sides of his face like he was trying to hold himself together. I got chills again, because the boy he looked exactly like me, same face, same build, same nervous habit of bouncing his knee when he was stressed. But it had never never seen this room before, had no memory of this video. The camera zoomed in slightly, and the boy, my double, looked up straight into the lens. His eyes were hollow, rimmed with dark circles. His face was thin, sunken, and he looked off. And then he spoke. His voice was horror, barely above a whisper. If you're watching this, it's already too late. My stomach clenched. It takes them the memories, little by little. His fingers dug into his temples. You won't notice at first a detail here, a face there, But then one day you wake up and you're just gone. I felt something tightening in my chest again. I don't know how long I have left. His voice cracked. He looked around the room as if something was lurking just out of sight. I try to stop it, I try to warn them, but it just and he turled off, his eyes locked onto the camera again. You have to pass it on. A chill rushed down my spine. Destroying the phone won't work running won't work. It would always find its way back to you. The only way to escape is to give it to someone else. And then his voice became urgent, desperate, Do it before it takes everything, before you forget who you are. The screen flickered. The boy suddenly jolted, his body stiffening. His mouth opened, but no sound came out his eyes. My eyes widened in terror, and then something pulled him back. A dark, twisting shadow burst from the edges of the frame, wrapping around his limbs and dragging him out of view. The camera tilted wildly. The screen got blurry. The brightness went up and down, flickering. Just before the video cut out, a final frame flashed across the screen, A new shot, A new bedroom, my bedroom. A dark figure stood at the foot of my bed, watching, waiting. The phone slipped from my hands. I staggered back. My breath was shallow, my body numb with shock. This was real. That thing had been watching me, taking my memories, just like I had taken his. I tried to think back, tried to remember things I knew should be clear, my locker combination, my old home address, my mom's favorite song. But the answers wouldn't come. It was like they'd been erased. Panic surged through me. My skin felt too tight and my mind unraveling. I remembered before you forget who you are. I knew I had to do something. I had to A vibration jolted through my hand, the phone a new message. I didn't want to look, but I did the same, unknown number times up. I stared at it, my whole body locking up. The air in my room felt wrong, heavy, pressing in from all sides. My thoughts were racing, but I couldn't grasp onto anything solid. I needed to move. I needed to do something. But then the lights flickered. My entire room dimmed, the warm glow of my bedside lamp smothered by a creeping darkness that spread like ink. I knew I wasn't alone anymore. A sound filled the space, a slow, wet clicking, like something with too many joints, shifting in the dark. I turned my head, but my body felt sluggish, like I was wading through syrup. My eyes landed on the mirror across the room. My reflection was not right. I was standing in the middle of the room, phone still in my hand, but the me in the mirror wasn't holding anything. He was smiling and I wasn't. I felt something cold press against my shoulder and I spun around, but nothing was there. The mirror me tilted his head, the grin stretched wider, and then his lips moved. I couldn't hear the words, but I understood them, Give it to someone else. I stumbled back, my legs shaking. The room was growing darker and the shadows were stretching and reaching. I could feel something behind me, close, watching and waiting. The phone vibrated again, violently, this time like it was demanding my attention. It was a new message, that same number, last chance. I was losing time. I could feel it like sand slipping through my fingers, Memories flickering away, details vanishing. My mind was breaking. I had to pass it on, and that's what the boy in the video had said. That's the only way to escape, the only way to survive. My hands were slick with sweat as I gripped the phone, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Who who could I give it to? I thought of my friends, my classmates, my mom, and then a spike of guilt stabbed through my chest. I couldn't do that. I couldn't let this thing take someone else. But if I didn't, the lights flickered again, and this time they went out completely. The darkness was absolute. My heart beat was the only thing I could hear until I heard the breathing, not mine, but right next to me. It was slow, shallow, Then the whisper you're mine. Oh. Something cold wrapped around my wrist. The phone screen became brighter and brighter before I couldn't bear it anymore, and I shut my eyes tight. I tightened them so much my ears were ringing with the pressure of my own blood rushing through my head. It was all I could feel. It was all I could sense. Nothing else mattered because there was nothing left to remember. Then the ringing in my ears faded. Silence swallowed me whole, stretching into a heavy, suffocating void. I couldn't feel my body. I couldn't remember what I was just thinking about the pressure in my skull. The burning fear was gone. Everything was gone. I could dream, slipping from my grasp. The moment I opened my eyes, I blinked. The hallway was buzzing with voices, lockers slimming, shut, footsteps echoing, the end of the year. Chaos filled the air, but it felt distant, muffled, like I was just standing outside of it. I stared ahead at my locker, a combination lock in my hand. What was I doing? Oh right, I was cleaning it out. Paul, my friend, was a few lockers down, struggling to open his own. He always forgot his combination I smirked, watching him wrestle with the dial. The guy had probably gone through five locks this year already. Huh de javaus. We wouldn't have to worry about this for a while. We were about to be seniors. Summer was finally here. I think I thought of this already. I sighed and pulled open my locker. Old candy wrappers, crumbled papers, a half empty water bottle that had probably been there since midsim Yes, I started tossing everything into a plastic bag, barely paying attention. The routine was muscle memory. And then my fingers brushed against something, something smooth, something cold. I frowned and reached deeper, pulling it free. A phone, an older model, scratched near the charging port, slightly faded from time. A strange sensation crawled up my spine. Something heavy, settling in my chest. The phone felt familiar, like I had held it before, like I had found it before. I turned it over in my hands, my stomach twisting, My pull suddenly too loud in my ears. The hallway noise dulled, like the world had taken one step back, leaving me standing in the empty space between a thought and a memory. Had someone left this year, had it always been in my locker, I should have thrown it into the lost and Found bin, But instead I slipped it into my backpack, not knowing I had already done this before that I was going to do it again. My thoughts were interrupted just as I was stepping away from my locker. Russ, the janitor holding a large set of pliers or cutters, stepped in front of me. You see, Paul, Paul, my friend though, yeah, I answered, still lost in thought. Okay, well tell him I just bust open his combination lock fifth times a charm, right, he said, chuckling as he walked away. I looked down the nearly empty hallway and found his locker on the top row. The broken lock was stangling on the latch. I started walking toward it. My fingers dug into my backpack, the phone was waiting. Scary Story podcast has written and produced by me Edwin ko Uyaz. Thank you for your ratings and reviews. By the way, you really came through for me on this one. I noticed it on Apple Podcasts and Spotify, and if you haven't done so, i'd appreciate it if you'd left some stars or comments or whatever you can on there. As long as they see some interaction, I think it really helps. Anyway, if you're following the show, I will tell you another story next week. Thank you very much for listening. Keep it scary everyone, See you soon.