I awoke to the sound of my phone buzzing on the bedside table.

Hello?

I said, Grogly.

You're that paranormal hunter, right?

I had the website changed, new business cards made up and even sunk some money into an ad

campaign.

Still.

All collars insisted on referring to me as the paranormal hunter.

Term originally coined by tabloid papers who made me out to be some sort of monster fighting

hero.

It wouldn't be so bad if it didn't negatively affect my livelihood.

Those articles made me a laughing stock to skeptics everywhere, including the local authorities

that I sought to work with on occasion.

Actually, it's paranormal consultants.

Right, sorry.

I need your help.

She sounded like the rest, scared, confused, and at the end of her rope.

I was the last call anyone made in the situation like this.

A desperate cry for help when all else failed.

As if dialing the number was some admittance of insanity or worse, a confirmation that

the things that go bump the night are really out there.

Waiting in the shadows to pounce on their next victims.

...