The Last Broadcast

At about midnight the radio came to life.

It was a decades-old dead relic rooted down in boxes in the old attic of the late grandfather of Eric. It was an old farmhouse on the point of disintegration with each wind creaking it. correct If Eric were cleaning it out by himself, he simply had the radio turned on as an idle diversion, he did not expect anything of the sort.

but now it was softly lighted, and its dials were moving themselves. The speaker hissed--and then a voice like leaves underfoot, harsh, dry, as though broken, scraped:--)

"Hola por ahí Eric"

He froze.

His skin went on the snap. The voice was all wrong—familiar but of the wrong tempo, wrong timbre—too hollow. Nobody knew that he was present. His phone did not detect a signal and the closest neighbor was at ten mile distance.

“Well, you left me here…. in the dark”

He watched at the radio. "Who is this?"

The Electric light above twinkled. The temperature in the attic became low.

He plugged the cord out of the socket. Silence.

Then was the noise--Footsteps. Creaking. Deliberate. Above him.

But upstairs no longer was there a floor on top of the attic.

Eric slowly moved his face toward the ceiling and heart whipped. A groan came groaning through the beams. He smoked in his breath.

The radio squawked once more. Still unplugged.

‘Fire‘ I do not remember as these words came at one of our Dilwale Dialogues From Bollywood Mahabharat (With Sridevi, Anil Kapoor and Amitabh Bachchan).

The pictures rushed in strong,--the barn was on fire, he was ten. His cousin leo's screams Rick kill Martin. Eric running run away. The guilt. The silence. No-body ever discovered. Only ashes and a smoke sigh.

"You saw me burn".

The creaking attic door swung shut. Locked.

The static kicked over. Out of the radio there appeared a form. Smoke and shadow, climbing high, becoming to form long arms and a soot besmeared face. lips turned grinning.

Time to make the story complete.

Eric screamed. In the shadows he lay enwrapped, burning cold. The attic went round. The room curved in on itself, and with a last snapping he disappeared into the his of the radio.

Morning came. The house was silent except. Still air was filled with dust.

It was two days after, that his friends came. No Eric. No footprints. Every once in a while just the radio laying on the floor, softly glows.

They got intimate.

“Hello again…”

the dials started spinning