Hello r/nosleep readers. I've stalked this page for awhile and I never thought I would have any reason to actually write a post here because well..."weird" stuff never happens for me. I live a pretty uneventful life, but I guess we all do usually till that crazy thing happens that makes us question all the "myths" we hear about.

Last week my boyfriend's Grandpa died. He was old, I think my boyfriend said 82 and had a heart attack alone at home.

Like any good girlfriend would do, I offered my unwavering support and told him I was here for him in ANY way. ( I regret this now as I write it, because I thought being there for him would just involve cooking him food porn and lots of "I'm gonna cheer you up" blowjobs )

My boyfriend Jake doesn't have a large family. His mom is a nurse who works double shifts at the hospital a lot and his dad from all accounts if you ask his mom is a no good handsome bastard who left her in the lurch when Jake was 5. Jake has no siblings and he was close to his grandpa for most of his life until Jake started college.

Jake told me this week he would have to help his mom to start clearing out a few things from his grandpa's home so his mom could prep the house for sale, and get his estate in order. I'm not even gonna lie, I don't even like to sort through my own closets and crap to sort things, but Jake asked me if I would go with him one day to the house to look it over.

I caved. The way he laughs and whines with the puppy eyes while he begs me to do something, how could I be the asshole girlfriend that says no. Sure baby, lemme go with you to your creepy house your Grandpa died in and rummage through his stuff. shudders It just feels like bad Juju, but I'm not even at the thick of it.

Grandpa's house wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be, for some reason I expected a dark house, drawn shades, musty smell and overgrown yard. The kind of house you'd tell ghost stories about as a kid. Nope. Not Even. We walk up to his two story house with a white picket fence. The house actually felt warm...big windows, sun pouring in onto the hardwood floors. It reminded me of the freakin Halliwell house outta Charmed.

I was a little weirded out by the fact there was an old fashioned tuner radio in every room. I do mean EVERY ROOM. My tin foil hat senses were tingling. I had to ask him what the hell was up with that.

He told me that his grandpa used to do Ham radio and was really into broadcasting and listening to a lot of frequencies. He learned a lot about communications while he was serving in the military, doing 2 tours in Vietnam.

He took me to the attic where he showed me where his Grandpa used to do his broadcasts. Mainly just talk radio, talking about the war and giving people tips on tuning into more frequencies.

Jake took a sheet off the desk and showed me the set up. It was an old fashioned boom mic and a board of different switches, sliders, and buttons. Off to the side there were 3 different reel to reel tape recorders/audio players there. I'd only ever seen those in old movies. I felt really creeped out in the attic even though the sun was shining through the one diamond shaped window.

I stuck close to Jake while he explained all the equipment to me, but all I heard was white noise. I had goosebumps on my arms and the air felt heavy in the attic. I know it sounds like bullshit, they say that in all the paranormal stuff you watch on tv when there's something in the room, but feeling it was reeeeally creeping me the fuck out.

"Does it still broadcast?" I asked him wanting to just finish examining everything so we could move on back downstairs. "Maybe you can just take it with you and play with it at home."

"I don't see why not" Jake flipped the switches and I jolted as the audio reel to reel squeaked and played its crackling audio. There was a jingle played, it was that song you heard from the creepy jack in the boxes, pop goes the weasel...but immediately following it there was a young girl's voice. Her accent sounded German, like a little 7 year old girl, but she was speaking in English. It kept repeating "Papa November...Papa November...Papa November."

I told Jake that it was creepy and he laughed. He agreed that it creeped him out when he first heard it too. He said his Grandpa had dabbled in what they called numbers stations during the war. Spy Frequencies that sent messages with the phonetic alphabet or sometimes numbers. I stood there praying I wouldn't find out today that Jake was some sort of conspiracy whack job. We've been dating a year I feel I know him pretty well by now.

Ok so creepiness seriously incoming. Jake flips the switch and is explaining that he is now broadcasting ( I guess to whoever was listening creepy Papa November was being heard ) and him in the background explaining things to me.

"What if someone is listening?" I asked him. "You should say something, I mean shit, I'd wanna know if my radio friend was dead ya know." I thought he was going to roll his eyes at me but he actually nodded and started talking into the mic. "Uh, Hello all, this is Jake Westfield, Grandson to David Westfield, or you may have known him as DW when he would broadcast. I regret to inform you he has passed. I may take over his frequency, not sure, but this is just a heads up. Thanks."

He looked sad and I felt like an asshole for even suggesting it to him. Jake flipped the switch and the red light slowly faded off the switchboard. "Papa November....Papa November..." was still playing and I asked Jake to shut it off. He flipped the switch but the reels kept going. W T F

Jake gave me the wtf look too and went to unplug it and the reels stopped moving and it was eerily silent in the attic. The kind of silence that makes your ears ring and you can hear your heart beating. Color me spooked. I was ready to take my ass back downstairs. Girlfriend duty be damned.

I actually let out a scream as in the far corner of the room, a telephone rang. It was an old 1960's phone, the black kind with the heavy handset and a curly Q cord attaching it to the base. There was no rotary dial on it, it was only meant for receiving calls.

"I didn't even know there was a phone line up here and active, who could be calling?" Jake was puzzled as hell and looked at me for some sort of clue as if I was supposed to know.

I asked him if he wanted me to get the phone. I don't know why I asked, I went to go pick it up anyway because the ringing was deafening in the small attic and I couldn't stand the sound anymore.

"Hello?" I held my breath as I waited for someone to speak

"Papa November....Papa November..." the girl from the audio tape was repeating over and over again into the phone line.

I looked over to Jake and he immediately came to my side, my look of terror letting him know that I was incredibly freaked out. He grabbed my wrist and pulled the phone away from my ear, holding it between us so he could listen to.

"Hello?" Jake asked into the phone, looking at me and speaking softly. "I wonder if this is a repeater or something of what we just broadcasted, this is so fucking weird..." Through the phone the jack in the box tinkling sound played again and the girl came back repeating new phonetic letters.

"Delta, Echo, Alpha, Delta.....Papa November....Delta Echo Alpha Delta...Papa November..." Jake slammed the phone down and took my hand and we left the attic and headed straight out the door of the house. He didn't speak the whole way home. I haven't slept since yesterday, but I find myself exhausted after writing this post. Jake barely slept last night and had to go to work today, so we haven't talked about what happened. I don't think I will be able to go back into that house again.

Do you think ghosts can manipulate radio signals? I don't know if I should talk to Jake about what happened or if we should just forget that it happened. I don't know if I should talk to his mom about what happened if Jake doesn't want to talk about it. What if we sent some kind of weird number message and that is why a phone call came? Any advice would be appreciated.