The Last Broadcast

It started as a dare.

Natalie, a journalism student known for her late-night podcast Urban Shadows, agreed to spend one night in the abandoned Hartley Radio Station. Off-air since 1983, the station was rumored to be haunted by the voice of its final host—DJ Ronny Blaze—who supposedly died live on air during his last transmission.

She brought a recorder, a flashlight, and a flask of cheap coffee. The moment she stepped through the rusted doors, the air changed—thick, cold, and humming with static. Dust coated the mixing boards and tape reels like frost. But the equipment was… on. Lights blinked. Meters danced. A low-frequency buzz pulsed through the speakers like a heartbeat.

Natalie, ever the skeptic, pressed record. “Broadcasting from the dead,” she joked.

That was the last joke she made.

The air grew heavy as whispers crackled through the speakers—too faint to catch but unmistakably human. She leaned closer. Static gave way to a voice, soft and raspy:

“Still listening, Natalie?”

She froze. No one knew she was there—not even her followers. The voice continued.

“You’ve brought me an audience again.”

The doors slammed shut. Lights flickered. Her flashlight died.

And then, her own voice began playing back through the speakers—only it wasn’t what she had recorded. It was her scream. Over and over. Echoing louder each time. Then silence.

Her followers heard that episode posthumously, uploaded automatically by her scheduling software. It ended with the same voice whispering:

“Now... who's next?”

 #SignalFromTheShadows