This is the first story in my collection of short stories called A Very Dark Place. Very soon I’ll be launching a crowdfunding campaign to get my book of short stories published. I’ll keep you all posted on when it starts and if you like The Midnight Caller then you can help get me published!!

The Midnight Caller

Dylan Mullerhan was parted from his slumber courtesy of Ripples, his iPhone ringtone. Half conscious and in complete darkness, Dylan fumbled for the bedside cabinet.
Ripples continued to tell Dylan that someone was trying to get hold of him.
Dylan told Ripples to shut its mouth. He then felt his fingers touch the slim metallic body of the iPhone. With his eyes slightly narrowed at the brightness of the screen, he looked at who was ringing him at exactly 12.00 am.
The midnight caller was unknown.
Dylan tapped the green accept button.
“Hello.” Dylan’s voice croaked with tiredness.
“Call me,” the midnight caller said in a surprised tone. They had a slight rasp to their voice.
The line cracked with static. Dylan sat up in bed. The iPhone’s screen illuminated the left side of his face.
“Come again?” Dylan said.
“Call me. That's you, isn't it?”
“What are you talking about? Who the hell is this?”
The midnight caller sighed and rasped, “I'm here looking at your phone number. It says Call Me For A Good Time.”
Dylan was tempted to end the call. He was too tired to deal with some prank call. Before he hung up, though, he wanted to know something.
“How did you get this number?”
The midnight caller chuckled down the line. He seemed to find Dylan’s question hilarious. “Coz I’m looking for a good time, Call Me.”
“Then I suggest you find it elsewhere.”
The midnight caller fell silent. Dylan heard something clicking in the background. The midnight caller then inhaled sharply. They had just lit a cigarette.
The way he sounds, he needs to quit the cancer sticks, Dylan thought.
The midnight caller exhaled ever so slowly. “Are you familiar with Compton Heath, Call Me?”
Dylan was. He had spent much of his youth down at the heath with Alec and Christo. Mainly playing football. Mainly getting drunk. Mainly trying to get into girls’ knickers.
“Me and the heath have crossed paths once or twice,” Dylan said.
The midnight caller inhaled deeply. As he exhaled, he asked, “Ever used the men’s room there?”
“Yeah, suppose I have.” Dylan yawned and closed his eyes. “What are you? The toilet police? Have my past transgressions in the heath’s toilets finally caught up with me?”
“I suppose they have, Call Me.”
Dylan's eyes shot open. “Will you stop calling me that?”
“Then you should have made your name pretty clear when you advertised your services.” The midnight caller paused. He let the silence grow.
Then it happened. A spark. A distant memory from Dylan’s youth.
It was the dying weeks of school summer holidays. The month of August had been extremely kind weather-wise. Just for once, summer had been summer.
Three boys sat under a tree on Compton Heath. They were steadily drinking themselves into an alcoholic paradise. They were just starting on their third two-litre bottle of Mr Jack’s White Cider as the city sun started to disappear beyond the skyscrapers.
“I'm going for a piss,” Christo said to his friends. He came back five minutes later with a smug grin spread across his face.
“Nature calls,” Alec said moments later. He too returned just as smug as Christo did.
When Christo and Alec exchanged glances, they both burst out laughing. Dylan drunkenly took to his feet and went into the heath’s toilets.
Dylan returned. Not with a smug grin like his drunk friends. But a smile of satisfaction.
“I can't believe it’s still there,” Dylan explained. “That was nearly ten years ago. I'd have thought somebody would have replaced the cubicle doors.” It may have ten years ago since Dylan and his friends had written sexual profanities about one another, but just like the cubicle doors of Compton Heath, Dylan Mullerhan’s phone number also hadn’t changed. “Thanks for the call, buddy,” Dylan said. “But I really need to catch up on some beauty sleep.”
The midnight caller clicked his teeth and exhaled nasally. “That's not how this works. You have to honour your advertisement. You must show me a good time.”
“Go screw yourself!” Dylan snarled back. He ended the call.
He lay back down and drew the bedcovers around his shoulders. He closed his eyes. He couldn't shake the midnight caller’s raspy voice from his mind.
That guy was a freaking nutcase! Dylan thought as the motions of slumber began to consume him. Wait till I tell Christo and Alec about...
The hallway phone began to ring.
And ring.
And ring.
It can't be him, Dylan thought. There's no way it could be Mr Nasally. My number’s not in the phonebook. It could be Mum. But why would she ring this time of night? She’d only ring if something had happened to…
The phone showed no signs of giving up.
It rang.
And rang.
And rang.
Dylan tossed aside the covers and hurriedly made his way downstairs in the pitch black. He winced slightly as his bare feet came into contact with cold tiled floor of the hallway.
Irritated, tired and concerned, Dylan steadily lifted the hallway phone to his ear.
“Hello.”
“Took your time, Call Me.” Dylan's eye scrunched up when he heard the nasal tone of the midnight caller. “I was getting concerned for you.” The midnight caller paused. He lit another cigarette. “About before. That wasn't very nice, was it?”
“How the hell did you get this number?”
The midnight caller exhaled deeply and rasped, “I would love to say I found it via social media, but that would be lying. Empowering, but lying.” The midnight caller chuckled to himself. “Mother always told me ‘liars never prosper.’ She wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, my mother, but she knew her proverbs. What kind of proverbs did your mother tell you when you were a boy?”
God helps those who help themselves, he thought. Dylan tried not to show the growing fear in his voice when he said, “Tell me what you want?”
“I want what's advertised on the back of the cubicle door on Compton Heath.” The midnight caller licked his lips.
Dylan curled his finger around the phone cord as bitterness rose up inside him. “What's written on the cubicle door was done by some kids nearly ten years ago!” Dylan pressed the phone tightly against his ear as he explained. “We were smashed out of our skulls on cider!”
“These other kids,” the midnight caller sighed. He took a solemn breath from his cigarette. There was a deep sadness to his voice when he said, “Alec Chamberlain was one of those kids, wasn't he?”
Dylan stayed silent.
“Alec, that's what you called young Alexander Chamberlain, wasn't it?”
Dylan said nothing.
“He didn't live up to his advertisement, Call Me,” the midnight caller tutted. “It transpires that Alec didn't like bum-love after all.”
“What. Have. You. Done?” The words almost left Dylan’s mouth in a whisper.
“Maybe I was a bit harsh on Alec. I should have stayed with the dildo. He didn't scream as much with that. But, dear God, he wouldn't stop screaming when I inserted the broom handle in his you-know-what.” The midnight caller rasped a hearty laugh down the line. He took another drag from his cigarette.
Dylan bellowed down the phone, “Whoever you are, you’re one sick fuck. I've had enough of you and your bullshit!”
The midnight caller tutted. “There's no need to shout, Call Me. You’ll wake the neighbours.”
Dylan's attention was drawn towards the hallway front door. The porch light flicked on. It was motion-sensored. That meant somebody was walking up the path. At any moment, Dylan expected a silhouette to appear at the door.
No one appeared.
The light went off.
Dylan’s attention was brought back to the phone. The midnight caller clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth and asked, “Aren't you going to ask me about the other kid?”
Dylan breathed heavily. His loose hand was clutched into a fist. His palm was lathered with sweat. “Christopher Spencer,” the midnight caller said, “or Christo. That's what you called him, wasn't it?”
Dylan stayed silent.
“'Can you remember what you wrote about him on the cubicle door?”
Dylan could, but he wasn't going to repeat it.
“Your silence tells me you do.” The midnight caller clattered his teeth together. He then took a sharp intake from his cigarette. “I’ll tell you something, Call Me. It took some persuading for Christo to suck my dick.”
Dylan was speechless. All he could do was continue to breathe heavily down the line
“What am I like?” the midnight caller rasped. “Back to telling lies again. Mother wouldn't be impressed. Would she, Call Me?”
Dylan remained silent.
“After a few failed attempts and a lack of cooperation from Christo,” the midnight caller said, “I needed to give him some encouragement.”
Dylan eventually spoke. His voice trembled as he said, “What did you do?”
“At last. It speaks. I thought you'd gone to sleep, Call Me.”
“What have you done to Christo?”
The midnight caller went quiet. Dylan heard him extinguish his cigarette. It must have been in water or something as he heard it hiss. The midnight caller sighed. He slowly blew through his mouth. His lips flapped against the receiver.
“Instead of my penis to suck on,” the midnight caller explained, “I replaced it with a barrel of my gun.”
“Oh my God.” Dylan closed his eyes.
“He just couldn't get into it, Call Me. It was a very depressing sight. What with him crying and all, I just didn't find the whole spectacle arousing.”
“You bastard!”
“I suppose I am in a way,” the midnight caller said. “But back to Christo. I wasn't amused by his effort and he definitely wasn't feeling the love…so I called time on the whole goddamn thing. It was in both of our interests.”
“What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Do?”
“It seems the gun enjoyed his attempt at a blow job more than I did.” The midnight caller rasped with delight. “The gun ejaculated in his mouth.”
Dylan lashed out and slammed the phone down on its hook. He took a step back from the phone and began to walk backwards towards the stairs. He placed one foot on the first step when the hallway phone began to ring. There was no way he was going to answer it.
He placed a foot on the second step when his iPhone began to ring in his bedroom.
You have a phone call! Ripples announced.
The outside porch light began to flick on and off repeatedly. Before long, the ringing of the hallway phone and Ripples were in perfect unison with the porch light.
Dylan was frozen on the second step. He didn't know what to do.
After a few agonising and pulsating moments, Ripples stopped telling him he had a phone call. The hallway phone fell silent. Then the porch light finished its spectacle.
Dylan and the hallway were plunged back into darkness.
Dylan’s heart raced against his tight chest. His sweat-filled hands were clenched tightly by his side. They shook with trepidation.
His entire body then went rigid.
He felt someone place their warm smoke-filled lips against his ear as they said, “Show me a good time, Call Me.”