The Silent Broadcast

WXKR Radio Tower

Prologue: Static Voices

Late-night DJ Rick Malone first noticed it during his shift at WXKR—a faint signal bleeding into his broadcast. At 3:17 AM exactly, the interference would overtake his equipment for exactly 17 seconds. No words, just... breathing. Then whispers in a language that made his teeth ache.

When Rick checked the FCC logs, he discovered the terrifying truth: The signal was coming from WXKR's own tower. The same tower that had collapsed in 1987, killing all seven station staff during a live broadcast.

"On October 17th, Rick finally recorded the interference. When he played it back at half-speed, the whispers became clear: 'We're still on the air.' The next morning, Rick was found dead in the studio—his body positioned exactly like the station's 1987 morning show host had been found after the tower collapse."

Chapter 1: The Signal Spreads

After Rick's death, the interference began appearing on other stations. Always at 3:17 AM. Always lasting 17 seconds. Listener reports described hearing their own names in the static, or warnings about events that would happen the next day.

Journalist Leah Park investigated and discovered a pattern: Everyone who heard their name in the broadcast died within a week. The cause was always bizarre—victims drowned in bone-dry bathtubs, or were found with their ears filled with decades-old radio transmitter parts.

"Leah's audio engineer made a horrifying discovery: The interference wasn't a recording. It was live. When amplified, you could hear faint screams in the background—including Rick Malone's voice begging 'Make it stop!' The most chilling part? The screams were dated yesterday."

Chapter 2: The Final Broadcast

Leah tracked the signal to the original WXKR tower ruins. The concrete foundation was cracked in a perfect spiral, leading down. Flashlights revealed the missing station staff—their corpses fused with broadcasting equipment, wires growing through their flesh like veins.

The station manager's corpse sat upright at a control panel, fingers still tapping Morse code into a dead transmitter. Leah's recorder picked up the message: "WE NEVER WENT OFF THE AIR."

"As Leah fled, her car radio turned on by itself. The interference played—but this time it was her own voice screaming. The time stamp in the static read tomorrow's date. When police found Leah's abandoned car, the radio was still transmitting... and the microphone was warm."

Epilogue: Still Broadcasting

WXKR's license was officially revoked last month. Yet every night at 3:17 AM, radios within 50 miles of the tower turn on by themselves for exactly 17 seconds. The FCC investigation team reported hearing their own voices in the static, describing their deaths in vivid detail.

The station manager's corpse has never been recovered. Some say if you tune an old radio to 87.7 FM near the ruins, you can still hear him whispering the names of next week's victims.

"Last Tuesday, a new voice joined the broadcast—Leah Park's, calmly reading off today's obituaries. The list ended with the name of the FCC investigator currently listening to the tape."