Hyo! TAl here! this is a weird little story I rammed out after reading wayyy to much Ring/Ringu fanfics and having read JTHM wayyy to many times.

I guess the concept is simple: What if a kindred spirit, or something close to it, picked up the phone? Or even better, what if she let someone live?

ttttttt normall thoughts.

ttttttttflashbacks.

"ttttttt" speaking.

The moonlight seems so pretty. I don't know why I'm staring at it. I usually never even really see it.

Maybe It's because I'm scared.

So scared, So scared. I swear I could hear that screaming in my head as I looked at the vid'. That stuped vid in the rentall shop.

Just get 'So Scared', the big blockbuster movie you were planning on. You don't have enough money for more than one vid. It's a blank-face vid anyway.

I had to make my decition fast, they never trust me in there. They think that because I'm thin and pale with long hair and black clothing that I'm up to something.

I I wish I hadn't done it. hadn't gotten it, and I really, really. . .

I shouldn't be. It's a prank, that's all. An elaborate prank by one of those FUCKHEADS at school. The vidio, the phonecalls. . . even IF I know that they don't have the brains for that.

Even if it dosn't explain the photos. twenty photos, all poloroids, sit on my bed. All of them warped and distorted.

My 'freinds'? Maybe Benny. He IS a photo-geek. But he's not that cruel. And NO-one I know could think up something as twisted as that vid.

Exept, maybe, me.

Me. It's me alright. Black t-shirt, Colombine-esque trenchcoat, and black jeans.

But my face, my face! it's al twisted and marred, and. . . what the HELL is that behind me! It looks like the window of the restraunt. . . has something (a horse?) scratched into the glass.

Another pictiure. A red tree. That tree was green. it's SUMMER for crists sake. And my face looks fractiured. . .

That vid'. . . . what the FUCK is going on!

Going on, the T.V seems to crackle. Mocking me. What time is it? Fuck, I think it's four in the morning.

Oh, well. I never sleep anyway. My mom hates that. And my father, hell, he LOATHS it. My father hates me. He hates the way I dress, he hates how I never sleep, and oh, how he hates my painting.

That girl. . . that girl in the vid. . . I'd like to paint her. . . she looks so sad, so . . . terrified,but so haunting. She reminds me of this one pic of me when i was little, with me standing be tween my parents. I remember that day. When that pic' was shot, all I wanted was for one of them, both of them to hug me.

I wanted to be loved. . . . that's all I wanted then. Now I go between wishing that, and wanting to kill them.

I don't know what I want.

I want to know who's doing this. Who's calling me. That voice. . . it's a voice RIGHT out of my nightmares.

Or a dream, a memory. . . . anything but reality.

The phone rings. I know who it's gonna be.

I had better get it. Mom has work tommorow.

"four days. . ."

I knew it.

"Hey, hold on."

Shit! WhadamIgonnasaynow!

I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

"Could I know you're name?"

A pause, I wonder if I'll get any answer, when out of nowhere, a little girls voice responds.

"My name is Samara. Who're you?"

I smile. A girl. . . Huh. Who'd put a little girl up to something like this? Maybe it WAS the jockos.

"It's Andy. Andrew."

Andy jr. Not that I'd EVER admit that. God, I hate my dad. . . .

"Andrew, why do want my name?"

She sounds like a cute kid. Sad, though. . . why is her voice ecoing? Bad reception. Sounds like there's water in the backround, too.

"I'd like to make a pictiure of you. You, the girl in the vid'?"

A silence.

"You. . . make pictiures?"

She sounds like she's gonna cry? Shit! WhadIdo!

"How. . . do you make the pictiures?"

The voice. . . . isn't coming out of the phone anymore. The voice, The voice is behind me. BEHIND ME!

I turn, and look at the TV. The girl. In front of the well. She's looking at me, and she looks like she's gonna cry. shit! Oh, my god. . . she looks like she's dead. . I know I must have dropped the phone, but it dosn't matter because she's IN THE TV! Okay, stay cool, stay cool. . . .

"How do you make you're pictiures?" She asks again. She sounds so needy. I swallow the thimble-full of spittle in my mouth, and answer. The same aqnswer I always give people about my paintings, because I've never thought of anything better.

"I-i, see them in my mind. I see them, and I make them."

She looks so happy. AND DEAD! God this is creepy. . . and no-way it's a joke now.

She smiles, and suddenly, the screen goes black. the room goes dark, and I could swear to god I hear horses. And waves.

I don't think I'm ever going to sleep again. And that voice, that voice comes out of the darkness. Not from the TV, but to the side of me. . .

"I'll make you a pictiure. . . ."

OWARI Desu ka (End?)

. . . not that I answered that second question at all. But I might, if I get some reveiws! Reveiws make me feel alll fuzzy! I might make a sequel or a second chapter if i get enough reveiws. . . (Wink wink nudge nudge say no more mum's the word)

Anyway, phone rings in backround Umm. . . picks it up

Yes? Oh goodie! hangs up phone. My pizza is gonna be here! RR, and TAl no RuruSan signing off!