The Forgotten Broadcast

Late one evening, as the city slept, Alex Carter sat hunched over his old shortwave radio, scanning the frequencies. He had always been fascinated by the hidden corners of the airwaves, where lost signals whispered stories from places unknown. But that night, he stumbled upon something he was never meant to hear.

At exactly 2:07 AM, a chilling voice broke through the static.

“If anyone is listening… I need help. They erased me.”

Alex’s fingers froze on the dial. The voice was faint, distant, but urgent. He checked the frequency—89.6 FM. Odd. There was no known station on that band.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Static. Then a response.

“They don’t want me to exist. But I do. And now… they know you’ve found me.”

A cold shiver ran down Alex’s spine. The room suddenly felt too small, too silent. He grabbed his notebook and wrote down every detail—date, time, frequency—determined to uncover the truth.

The next day, he searched the archives of local radio stations. There was no record of a broadcast on 89.6 FM. Curious, he traced the signal’s origin, leading him to an abandoned transmission tower on the outskirts of town. Rusted doors creaked as he stepped inside. Old broadcasting equipment lay untouched, covered in dust.

Then he saw it—a single reel-to-reel tape recorder, still running. With a deep breath, he pressed play.

“If you are hearing this… it means I failed. They found me. But the truth is still out there. And now, it’s your turn to uncover it.”

The tape clicked off. The room fell into silence.

Then, from behind him, his radio crackled to life once more.

“They know you’re here.”

Alex spun around. The door he had entered through was now ajar, swinging slightly in the wind. But he knew—he hadn’t left it open.

The signal was never meant to be found. And now, neither was he.