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ARCHIVIST: Statement of David Cross, regarding a series of phone calls and the resulting effects. Original statement given January 4th, 2016. Statement begins.
ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT): I don't really know where to start here. Did it begin when I was a child? That lingering sense of incomprehensible emotion I could only label as fear after observing a fly getting caught in a spider's web. Or maybe in high school, when my friends hosted some sort of party at an old shack covered in cobwebs. Or perhaps it'd always been there, a part of my soul that wasn't really mine. Just.. waiting to emerge.
That's besides the point, though. I know you're more focused on the accuracy of the here and now than the speculation of the how and before. I'll just tell you what I know- and let me make this clear to you- I /know/. Do what you like with this, dismiss it as another insane rambling, but either way I will /know/ it happened to me. I just want to get my thoughts down, honestly.
It was the payphone that began this specific encounter, of that I am certain. I was down at a ski resort by myself, during a time not many people were staying, but when there was still a fair amount of snow. I wanted a break of sorts from my typical dull office job, so I took one. Simple as that.
On my first day there, I got stuck on one of the ski lifts. Pretty typical for this place, I figured, since I'd seen many hostile comments about this on the place's reviews. It was so typical, in fact, that the company had put a payphone inside the lift to try and make some profits off of people calling about their delays. I disproved of the idea, but they had to make money somehow, I guess. I didn't need to use it, of course, and didn't plan on it, as it was rather dilapidated and covered in cobwebs. And by covered, I mean /completely/ wrapped in dozens of those intricate designs. I could barely even tell it was a payphone- wouldn't have, honestly, if it weren't for the decaying and rusted sign above it. What I'm trying to say, is, this wasn't at all the type of phone to spontaneously start ringing.
It was a horrible, discordant sound. More like a siren than a phone ringing. I wondered who could even be calling, and why they would take the time out of their day to call a random ski lift- Is it even possible to call a payphone? I don't know. Don't care, really. The rest of my story is impossible enough that I'd rather not bother with the little details. It's inaccurate enough as is, probably.
I picked up the phone. Didn't really see any other option at the time. I brushed the cobwebs off of my fingertips and gave a simple "Hello?" to the caller.
I couldn't really pick up a response, but there was definitely someone on the other end. I could make out the faintest rustling sounds, almost like someone making their way through a trail thick with snow- or maybe the crackle of a small forest fire. I wondered if it was some sort of test to see if the ski lift still worked, and if they assumed no one would be able to use the phone. I hollered another "Hello?" into the device, and the pace only sped up. No actual response.
I was getting rather tired of this by now, and the ski was coming close to its destination, so I just set the phone down. Didn't want to hang up or anything, and the cobwebs hadn't gone anywhere since I picked it up, so it seemed like the best possible option.
It was.. "normal" for the next few days. I sensibly went about the skiing trip and enjoyed myself, nothing odd about that. I would've forgotten about the phone completely if it weren't for the first day I returned to work.
My boss had wanted to see me. He had called me into his office in the middle of the day for seemingly no apparent reason. I asked him what was wrong, if he needed anything, and he just shook his head. It was a janky movement, almost as if he had a bunch of tiny strings on him all being tugged at once to make him move.
He gestured to the phone in his office and asked me if I knew anything about "this". I was reasonably confused and requested him to elaborate, but I got no response. He just.. stood there. Still as a statue.
It was at that moment that the phone started ringing. The same, awful sound I'd heard in the ski lift, blaring at a painfully high frequency. My boss just looked at me in anticipation, not seeming to pay much mind to it, that distant expression still plastered across his face.
I didn't ask him why it was ringing. I didn't ask him what I was meant to do. I didn't have a clue- yet I somehow must have, since I started walking towards the phone- No, no. That doesn't describe it well enough. My muscles were certainly moving, sure, and I was definitely walking, but it wasn't /me/. I was watching myself step slowly towards the phone, but I wasn't the one deciding to do so.
I felt myself grasp the phone as I held it up to my ear.
I don't think I need to tell you what I heard.
The paces were louder this time, though. I could definitely tell it was someone walking, now, and it sounded like they were stepping through wet concrete. Not snow.
I snapped back to my senses and hung up the phone. Whatever weird prank this was, I did /not/ want to be involved.
My boss gave me this confused look and asked why I had been talking to myself. I answered him with equal confusion, as I hadn't said a word to the caller. He seemed to have gone back to his usual self, now, and coherently explained how his office had kept getting calls from my phone number.
I understood now. Someone had taken my phone and they were using it for some kind of a joke- but then I reached into my pocket. I reached into my pocket and felt the cold, metallic phone case. I took my phone out of my pocket and checked my call history- no strange calls I hadn't made. I explained this to my boss, who just told me to speak with my phone provider in case it was some sort of glitch. He seemed to believe me about the things I told him, at least.
I did speak with my phone provider- nothing useful, lots of "Block the number," "Change your own number," "Just a glitch, you'll be fine,"- Useless blabber like that. But once again, when I talked to the man at the counter- it wasn't /me/ talking. It felt like I had put myself on autopilot and I was.. watching someone else live my life for me.
I couldn't say I was pleased when I returned home and my cell phone immediately began to ring.
I tried so, so hard to sit still, to ignore it. Yet the sound wasn't getting any quieter and I still didn't quite feel in control of myself. I hopelessly watched my hand tap my phone and heard myself speak "Hello."
No steps on the other end this time. Just some odd clicking noise- kind of like scuttling? I continued to speak into the phone. I don't know what I said, something in Latin, maybe? Maybe.
I talked on that phone for two hours straight, hearing so many words I would never imagine saying coming out of my own mouth. Finally, after so many moments, I stopped and felt like myself again. I immediately hung up the phone, unsubscribed from my cell service provider, and bashed the thing in with a hammer.
I stopped quickly after, though. I stopped when I noticed the patterns in the shattered glass on my phone. When I thought back to the ski lift, to the hundreds of intricate cobwebs.
Somehow, the broken phone /still/ began to ring. Calling from my number. Through the shattered glass I could hear the ringtone and once again watch myself answer the call. I didn't feel it, but I certainly saw the tiny glass shards inserting themselves deep into the flesh of my palms. The phone cracked itself open in my grip, like a newly-hatched egg. Out came dozens and dozens and piles and piles of spiders, pooling out almost like a collective liquid. They burrowed, deep into the cuts on my hands where the glass had made its marks.
I passed out, either from blood loss or pure fear, and woke up at the hospital. They obviously didn't believe me, chocking it up to me breaking my phone, getting some glass stuck in my hands, and a spider infestation in my home. Psh. Sure.
Oddly enough, it was my boss who suggested I come to you with my story. He knew. Partially, at least. I knew he'd felt it, too, watching someone else move for him.
He fired me.
"Didn't want you to get any more calls," he had said, but I knew it was the reverse of that. He had wanted his own calls to stop.
So, with the experience fresh on my mind and nothing better to do, I thought this didn't seem like a bad idea. Like I said, do whatever you want with this. I don't get any more phone calls, yet sometimes when I leave my window open I swear I can hear those same footsteps. And whenever I get a papercut or something- I swear I can still feel them. Weaving their stupid webs inside of me.
ARCHIVIST: Statement ends.
This statement appears to be rather self-explanatory. David declined the offer for a follow-up, explaining that nothing of note has happened since. I got Martin to check with his phone provider for any related details, and he came back with nothing. I checked with the company myself, just to make sure the work was adequate, and I additionally came back with nothing.
Sasha did visit his flat to check if the "infestation" was still prominent and could not find much. One thing she told me stuck out as odd, however. Upon leaving David's flat, Sasha immediately received a phone call from her own number. If the calls are still occurring, then I'll have to check again with Martin on this.
Recording ends.
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