It was 1996. You’d just dragged yourself home after an exhausting day when the shrill ring of the telephone pierced the quiet. With a groan, you peeled yourself off the couch and shuffled over to answer.

Who could be calling at this hour?

The voice on the other end wasn’t one you recognized—low, distorted, almost mechanical. It sent a shiver crawling up your spine.

‘Who is this?’ you asked, unease prickling your skin.

There was a pause. Then, instead of answering, the stranger spoke in that chilling monotone: “What’s your favorite scary movie?”