The Last Broadcast

tic pace of the outside world. The roads wound through thick forest, and the few people who lived there rarely left. Briar Hollow had

ough the long, cold nights. Briar Hollow was a place that became eerily quiet after dusk, the kind of quiet that settled i

owever, wa

trees outside, sending branches crashing against the windows. The steady hum of the radio station's equipment was the only sound in the studio, except for the occasional rumble of thunder. It w

st of his audience tuned in late at night for the soothing background of his voice, music, and the occasional local news. Briar Hollow was

something to fill the void as he chatted between songs. He had been doing this job for years, and though it w

er than usual, and Ben couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. He pulled t

or a moment, he hesitated. It was odd for anyone to call this late, especially during such a violent storm.

, trying to keep

training to hear any sound through the crackling line. Then, a voice finally em

d. It was barely a whisper, but its strange,

ing. "Who is this?" he asked,

d of static. For a moment, Ben wondered if it was just a prank call. Briar Hollow had its share of o

the voice continued, its tone u

a beat. "What do you

ence. Ben held the receiver in his hand, sta

one. He wasn't sure if it was the storm or something else, but the air had shifted. A

. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what had just happened. "They're coming for you."

that held a few weathered books and a map of the surrounding area, something he often referred to when giving directions or d

were not uncommon during storms, but this felt different-there was a sudden, unnatural stillness in the ai

he flicked the switch, casting a narrow beam of light across the room. The radio station had always felt like a second home, but

tling the windows. The storm was intensifying, the pressure building. In his gut, Ben felt it-someth

roat. He turned slowly toward the sound, the flashlight trembling in his hand. At first, he saw nothing but the swirling,

erately, toward the station. Several figures, all indistinct in the storm, all shrouded in mist. It wasn't just th

e storm or something else, but it felt as if the

r a brief moment, everything seemed to settle. The static noise on the radio ceased, replaced by a faint hum fr

se of foreboding hadn't lifted-it had only grown stronger. He turned back to the wind

sn't sure what it was, but something had just changed in Briar Hollow, and