The Last Broadcast

g like a relentless army. The unsettling feeling from the phone call still gnawed at him. The myste

news-felt hollow now. Something had shifted, something he couldn't explain. The station felt different, the walls pressing in on him, the air thicker. The static fro

efly plunging him into darkness. Ben flinched, heart racing, his flashlight flickering on instin

de, rattling the windows as though trying to break through. Ben had been t

-that might help him make sense of what was happening. But all he got was static, a gar

hought didn't help. His mind kept going back to the shadowy figures outside, the knock on the wi

broke through his

would be out there in the storm? He strained his ears, but there was nothing. Just the heavy rumble of thunder and

as it flickered. Ben knew he had to check it out. There was no t

ith dread. His mind screamed at him to turn around and forget it, but his

sense of comfort in that, like a barrier between himself and whatever lay beyond

attention. There was something else now, though. Beneath the storm's howl, he could hear another sound-a whisper, s

in front of him, dark and empty, the faint flicker of a lightbulb casting a sickly glow on the walls. He had t

t the old wooden floor echoing in the silence. The whisper grew louder, bu

. The harsh, fluorescent light buzzed for a moment before

walls-the old wood groaning under the pressure of the storm. He knew this building well. He had spen

ead. **It's ju

rner of his eye. Ben froze, staring at the darkened corner of the hallway. At first, he though

standing motionless at

tures hidden. Ben's mind screamed at him to run, but his legs refuse

s chest. He had to get out of the building. He had to escape whatever was happening. But every instinct

dark, and he skidded to a stop in front of the desk, grabbing for the mic. The equipment was still crackl

ddenly went sile

wasn't right. He grabbed the phone again, dialing the sheriff's number in desperation. But the line was dea

tion, his breath shallow as his eyes da

ard the window. The shadow outside had returned. This time, it wasn't just one figure-it was several, all standing there, stari

an cold. **Wh

sounded like someone-something-was trying to get hi

. A voice, faint and distorted, crackled thro

u should h

is throat. **It wasn't j

he couldn't explain, something that had come for him. The storm, the shadows, the whi