Pocong Creepy Video Call Horror
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description
The air thickens—a static hum crawls beneath your skin before the phone rings. Not the shrill tone you know. This one drips, sluggish and warped, like a warped cassette tape left to rot. You answer. No breath, no greeting—just wet, labored rasps, syllables slithering through the receiver. *"Jjjoooin... uuuusss..."* It hisses, voice frayed, as though dragged through gravel and mud. Behind the words, a chorus—muffled whimpers, soil shifting, roots snapping. Your name claws its way out next, vowels stretched and crumbling. You know that cadence. You buried it last monsoon season. The line goes dead. Outside, shadows coil where trees stand still. Something pale twitches between them, cloth clinging to a shape too thin, too bent. It doesn’t walk. It *drags*.
