The Signal from Nowhere

I didn’t believe in ghosts. Or aliens. Or any of those creepy things the kids at school whispered about during lunch. But that was before the signal. 

It all started one rainy afternoon. I was stuck inside, bored out of my mind, while the sky rumbled with thunder. Mom had already told me to turn off my video games and find something “productive” to do. So, I scavenged the basement for old stuff, hoping to find something interesting. That’s when I found the dusty old radio.

At first, it seemed like a total dud. The knobs were stuck, and the speaker crackled with static. But when I turned the tuning dial, something strange happened. I heard it: a faint, eerie signal cutting through the noise. I couldn’t make out what it was saying, but it felt… important. I leaned closer, feeling a chill creep down my spine. 

The next day, I couldn’t get the signal out of my head. I rushed home from school, excited to see if it was still there. I flicked the radio on, and to my relief, the static swirled, then sharpened into that same haunting sound. I grabbed a notebook and started jotting down the garbled words I could decipher. “Help us,” it said. “Save us.”

As the days passed, I became obsessed. I spent hours tuning into that signal, trying to unravel its mystery. I found myself neglecting my homework, my friends, and even my meals. All I could think about were those strange voices, pleading for assistance. 

One evening, as I sat in my dimly lit room, the signal took on a clearer tone. “They are coming. Do not trust them.” My heart raced. Who were “they”? And why should I not trust them? 

I decided to investigate. I learned that several kids from my school had gone missing over the past few months. No one knew where they went, and the authorities seemed baffled. The whispers among the students grew louder; some said it was a ghost, others claimed it was a witch who lived in the woods. But I had a feeling it was something much worse. 

I reached out to some of my friends—Jake, Tara, and Mike. I told them about the signal and the missing kids. At first, they laughed, but I could see the flicker of fear in their eyes when I played the recording I’d made of the radio. 

“Let’s go to the woods,” Jake suggested one night, emboldened by adrenaline and a mix of dread. “Maybe we’ll find something.” 

That Saturday, with flashlights in hand, we set off into the dark trees. The deeper we went, the heavier the air felt, like we were being watched. We eventually stumbled upon an old, dilapidated cabin. The windows were boarded up, and the door hung on its hinges, creaking as the wind blew. 

“Do you think anyone lives here?” Tara whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. 

We crept inside. The air was thick with dust and decay. In the corner of the room, I saw a rusted old radio sitting on a rickety table. My heart raced. It looked just like mine! 

As I approached it, the signal crackled to life, but it was different this time. The voices sounded clearer, more frantic. “You shouldn’t have come here. You need to leave!” 

I glanced back at my friends, their faces pale with fear. But I was entranced. I had to know what it meant. I grabbed the tuning knob and twisted it harder, desperate to make sense of the chaos. 

“Help us! Save us! They’re coming for you!” The words echoed in my mind, intertwining with my thoughts. Just then, the cabin door slammed shut, and the air around us grew cold. 

I spun around, but there was no one there. My friends were gone. Panic surged through me, and I rushed outside, calling for them, but the woods answered only with silence. I stumbled around, desperately searching, but it felt like the trees were closing in on me. 

Suddenly, the radio blared again, louder this time. “Help us! You can’t leave! We are trapped!” My breath hitched in my throat as I realized the voices belonged to my friends—the very kids who had gone missing. 

I turned to run, but the shadows of the trees shifted, and something moved just out of sight. I could hear whispers behind me, soft and insistent. “Stay with us… forever…” 

I bolted through the woods, the whispers growing louder, more menacing. Finally, I burst out into the clearing where we’d parked our bikes. I looked back, panting, expecting to see something horrible chasing me. But nothing followed. 

Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived. I glanced back at the cabin one last time, and that’s when I saw them—Jake, Tara, and Mike, standing at the edge of the trees, their faces blank and expressionless, their eyes hollow.

“Why didn’t you help us, Alex?” Jake’s voice echoed from the shadows, eerily distorted. 

I realized, in that moment, I hadn’t just heard the signal. I had become a part of it. 

In the end, I didn’t escape the woods. I didn’t escape the signal. Instead, I became the newest voice, waiting to be heard. Waiting for someone else to stumble upon the old radio and turn the dial…