I work at a radio station. Yeah, I guess it’s one of those jobs that will eventually come to an end sooner or later. If you’re a bit younger, imagine a live podcast, without video, and with music; that’s more or less it. My name is Marcus, and I’m 25 years old. When I was a child, although already declining, there were still many radios around, and I used to listen to them at night when I didn’t want to sleep and couldn’t turn on the TV. That’s where my dream of working here came from, and well, I guess I made it. I work at Waves FM (fictitious name, obviously. I wouldn’t want to expose more than necessary) during the night shift. And I simply love it! The whole atmosphere, me with my headphones listening and talking to people, playing requested songs, and sometimes discovering the value they have for each individual… it’s magical.
One night, as usual, I arrived at the studio ready for another broadcast. It should have been around 10 p.m., half an hour before my entry. However, upon entering my room, something strange immediately caught my attention. On the desk, in addition to the usual letters and bills to pay, there was an audio tape with a single symbol “X” recorded on it. I confess I found it curious, but with time running short, I decided to set it aside to listen to it later. After all, I needed to do my vocal exercises and prepare the microphone and other things.
As the night progressed and the music filled the air, the break time arrived. I took the opportunity to interact with the listeners, attending to their requests and messages. That’s when an elderly gentleman called in, requesting the song “Eyes Without a Face” (believe me, one of the most requested songs on our station). I promptly played it, but little did I know that Billy Idol would be just the introduction to something much stranger.
“Well, that was ‘Eyes Without a Face’ as requested by our buddy Mr. Grimshaw. Stay tuned to Waves FM for more nostalgia. And now let’s see who will request the next hit.”
I pressed the button on the desk.
“Hello?”
An uncomfortable silence ensued. Someone was on the line, the panel displayed it, but no one spoke. One of the rules of radio is precisely not to leave these “gaps.” If our only content is audio, we must fill it well.
“Can you hear me, my dear?”
“How about playing the tape I sent you?”
I looked at my desk with the “X” tape.
“Ah… Very well, folks, earlier today I received a mysterious tape, and it seems that now we have the sender here making their request. Very well, my friend, let’s see what you have for us.”
I put the tape in the machine and pressed play. A few moments after the reel started spinning, what followed was a cacophony of agonizing screams that invaded my ears. I felt a small shock run down my spine and, instinctively, ripped off the headphones, futilely muffling them. I returned as soon as I regained my senses, stopping the tape.
“Sorry folks, it seems we have a troll here, quite funny, huh buddy? I’m dying laughing!”
I played another random song, trying to lighten the mood a bit while calming the pounding in my chest. I grabbed the tape and threw it in the trash. I had had other pranks before, things like “Do you know Joe?” or “Is it true you’re sick with ligma?” but nothing on this level.
The night continued its course, with me trying to leave behind the bitter taste left by the tape. I interacted with a few more listeners and played more songs according to their requests. For a while, I managed to distract myself from that disturbing event. I bid them farewell as the first rays of sunlight appeared on the distant horizon.
“It was a turbulent night, folks, but we made it through haha. Stay safe, and see you next night here on Waves FM.”
I got up from the chair to see the station manager, Rob, enter through the door. He’s a man in his 60s, but definitely strong and quite independent for his age. He was a radio enthusiast who had bought the station with a lot of effort, going to work there every morning. We didn’t really have a boss-employee relationship; he was truly a good friend, more like a grandfather or uncle, you know?
“Hey there, kid,” he said. “Good night?”
“Hello, Rob,” I replied, trying to sound as relaxed as possible. “Yeah, it was a busy night. Lots of requests, lots of good music playing.”
Rob nodded as he approached the control desk. His eyes scanned the studio, noticing the “X” tape lying in the trash can. A slight furrow of his eyebrows betrayed his curiosity.
“What’s this?” He pointed to the tape.
“Oh, that?” I feigned disinterest, though my pulse quickened slightly. “Just a tasteless prank from a listener, a tape with some strange sounds. Nothing serious, just tossed it away.”
Rob nodded, but his expression indicated something was bothering him. “Make sure not to lose focus because of these things, Marcus.”
“Sure, Rob, you got it,” I assured him.
He gave my shoulder a pat before stepping away. “Good job tonight. Rest well, you deserve it.”
With a forced smile, I thanked him and watched as he left the studio. Once the door closed behind him, a shiver ran down my spine. I shook my head to dispel the dark thoughts. I was probably just paranoid because of the strange tape. I resolved to leave it behind and focus on finishing my shift. I got home and collapsed into bed, but as soon as I closed my eyes, I plunged into some restless dreams, the screams echoing around. I woke up a few hours later, a bit sore, heading out of the house to get some fresh air.
I stopped at the small convenience store at the gas station across the street from my house, ordered a black coffee and scrambled eggs, my “breakfast.” I was trying to perk myself up with the meal, chatting about the weather with the waiter. I spent the rest of the afternoon there, talking, watching pedestrians, and praying that night wouldn’t come, but soon enough, the shadows began to creep in, and the sun hid behind the hills.
Back in my apartment, I opened the door to feel my foot brushing against something, a dry sound. I looked down to see a small letter, my name written on it. When I opened it, however, my heart started pounding, my mind was confused and racing, and I felt sick, in bold letters, the phrase was displayed:
“DO NOT THROW AWAY MY TAPES.”
A shiver ran down my spine as my brain tried to process the meaning of those words. Who the hell was behind this nonsense? Did they know where I lived? The town is small, not impossible. Maybe it’s a prank of VERY poor taste. I grabbed my phone and dialed Rob’s number. He picked up after a few rings.
“Hey, Rob. Sorry to bother you, but I need to talk to you about something strange that happened last night.”
Rob listened in silence as I recounted the events from the previous night, from discovering the “X” tape to today’s warning.
“Hmm,” he murmured after I finished. “That’s concerning. Maybe it’s best for you to come to the station.”
I agreed with Rob’s suggestion and hung up the phone. Putting on a jacket, I grabbed my motorcycle keys and headed to the radio station.
Upon arriving, I found Rob waiting for me in the reception area. He had a serious look on his face as we greeted each other and proceeded to the studio together. We sat in front of the computer and began reviewing the recordings from the previous night. During one of the breaks, when I played the “X” tape, Rob stopped me.
“Kid… did you listen to the whole tape?” Rob asked, leaning forward.
I swallowed hard, recalling the moment when the screams invaded my ears.
“No, Rob. I only listened for a few seconds before turning it off. It was a sudden loud noise, and it startled me.”
Rob nodded, looking pensive.
“Good. Don’t listen to that tape ever again, okay?” He retrieved it from the trash can and broke it. “And any others like it, preferably, don’t even answer restricted calls.”
The wrinkles on Rob’s face seemed to multiply as he spoke, and I understood that the situation was more serious than I had imagined. I nodded, agreeing with his instruction.
“Got it,” I replied, feeling a lump form in my throat. “But what do you think is going on?”
Rob sighed, looking concerned. “Marcus… that’s all you need to know and can know.” He glanced away and stood up. “Try to relax, alright? Just stay away from this, and you’ll be fine. Are you going to stay around here?”
The feeling of unease only grew within me as I watched Rob gather the pieces of the tape and put them into an envelope. He placed the envelope in a locked drawer and looked at me with seriousness.
“Yeah, I think I’ll stick around for a little while longer, maybe go over some things for the next shift,” I replied, trying to sound calm. “Thank you, Rob. You know, for giving me the heads up.”
Rob nodded, placing his hand on my shoulder with a reassuring gesture. “Anything, don’t hesitate to call.”
I nodded, watching him leave the studio as my mind swirled with questions and concerns. And I decided that I needed answers. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was fear of the unknown. But I couldn’t just ignore it.
Carefully, I waited until I was alone in the station and approached the drawer where Rob had stored the remnants of the “X” tape. With some effort, I managed to open the drawer and retrieve the envelope. My heart pounded in my chest as I opened it, revealing the fragmented pieces of the tape. I held one of the reels as I gently pulled out the plastic strip from inside, making sure not to scratch it, and was about to do the same to the second one when someone knocked on the front door.
It was a light knock, but firm enough to make me freeze in place. My heart raced as I tried to process what to do next. “Damn,” I thought, “If Rob catches me doing this, I’m done!”
With a heavy sigh, I put the pieces of the tape back in the envelope and stored it in the drawer, closing it carefully. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves as I headed to the station door to answer the knock. However, as I reached the beginning of the hallway, looking at the door at the end of it, something started sliding through the mail slot, something black, rectangular, falling with a hard sound, a tape…
I hurried and opened the door abruptly, but all I saw was the night wind greeting me, and the nighttime view of the stars. The station was set away from the town, usually to avoid causing too much interference, so we had a dense forest of pine trees in front of our front door. The sight of them in the dark, however, was unsettling, and I quickly closed the door.
I looked at the tape on the floor in front of me, this time displaying the letter “D”. I picked it up, curious and confused, giving it a thorough examination. It looked identical to the other one, except for the letter. Surely they came from the same place, and considering the audio from the last one, I wasn’t at all inclined to listen to this one. I stored it with the fragments of “X” and went into the booth to start the program, trying to push the feeling of unease from my mind.
As the broadcast continued, I received messages and requests from listeners, recognizing the voices of some, engaging in conversation, and gradually pulling myself out of that eerie trance. However, one particular request caught my attention. A soft voice, one I had never heard before, requested the playback of a song not very well known to our audience.
“Can you play ‘The March of the Condemned’?” The voice asked, its tone sending shivers down my spine.
That song… it wasn’t part of our usual playlist. It was strange that someone knew it, let alone requested it to be played on a radio station. I tried to push away these thoughts, focusing on fulfilling the listener’s request as best as I could. However, as soon as the music began to play, a feeling of discomfort settled in the booth. The chords echoed through the speakers, filling the studio with a heavy atmosphere. I tried to adjust the volume a bit, which by now seemed too loud.
I realized something was wrong. The controls seemed to no longer respond. I persisted, clicking harder, repeatedly, but to no avail. I tried to stop the broadcast to announce technical difficulties, with no response. I even tried to shut down the system, but it was in vain. I was out of control of the situation.
That was when I heard it. Above the music, above the hum of the equipment, above even the frenetic beating of my heart, I heard a sound. A distant, but unmistakable sound. It was the same agonizing screams that had invaded my ears when I played the “X” tape. They were low at first, but now they were rivaling the music, a terrifying combination of the two, intertwining melodies. It was starting to make my head itch, when I realized it wasn’t coming from the speakers, but from the “D” tape now resting on the table, spinning. Now my brain could at least understand, a primitive panic took over me, the kind of thing that scares you without even realizing why, you know? It’s as if your whole being feels threatened by it. It didn’t make sense to be afraid of a tape, even if it was of screams and strange sounds, but that…
With trembling hands, I lifted the plastic cover and looked at the tape, seeing the letter “D” shining in the dim light of the booth. In a desperate impulse, I ripped it from the machine, but the screams didn’t stop, they seemed to be echoing from everywhere, even becoming louder and more desperate now. All I did was throw it away. It collided with the wall, breaking in half and falling to the floor. With that, the music, now at its end, returned to normal, fading out.
“A…And that was ‘The March of the Condemned’,” I said, still somewhat shaken. “Let’s take a quick commercial break and we’ll be right back! Don’t go anywhere because we’ve got more coming up on Waves FM.”
The relief I felt seeing the broken tape on the floor was momentary. My heart still pounded in my chest, my hands trembled, and my whole body felt tense. I needed a moment to compose myself, to understand what was happening. But before I could do anything, I heard footsteps approaching the studio. My ears focused, and I hid under the table. The door opened slowly, I could feel a presence there, standing at the entrance. Footsteps started coming in, entering the booth, suddenly stopped.
“Marcus, I can see you back there, what’s going on?” Rob asked, his eyes fixed on the broken tape on the floor.
“Rob!” I said, my voice faltering a bit with anxiety. Trembling, I emerged from behind the table. “It’s… I received another tape, like the one from yesterday.”
Rob approached and looked at the broken tape, his eyes narrowing in concentration.
“What letter?” He asked, his voice calm, still not averting his gaze from the pieces.
“What?”
“What letter, on the tape?” This time he raised his eyes to me.
“It was… it was a D, why?”
“A D? Damn it! Tell me you didn’t play it.”
“I… I didn’t play it, but when I looked… it was there, spinning in the player.”
“That’s not good, not good at all.” Rob seemed tense, his eyes scanning the wreckage of the tape on the floor as if searching for answers amid the chaos. “Marcus, take the day off,” Rob said, his voice laden with concern. “I don’t even want to think about you being near any audio equipment, okay?”
I nodded in agreement. My hands still trembled as I picked up the pieces of the broken tape from the floor, tossing them into the nearest trash can. The feeling of relief was palpable as I finally left the studio and distanced myself from the radio station. Rob drove me home in his car.
Throughout the day, I tried to distract myself with anything that didn’t involve sound. Books, crafts, but the image of the “D” tape spinning in the sound machine continued to haunt my thoughts. At night, as the sun began to set and darkness enveloped the night, the feeling of unease returned with full force. It was as if I were being “watched”? Maybe “listened to” was a better word; it was as if an ear rested against the wall, attentive to all my movements, like something lurking. I decided to return to the radio station, despite Rob’s warnings; I didn’t want to be held hostage by whatever this was. So, I made my way back to Waves FM., my heart pounding in my chest as I approached the familiar building.
When I entered the room, I found Rob still there, working on some papers behind the reception counter. He looked up when he saw me enter, an expression of surprise and concern crossing his face.
“Marcus, what are you doing here?” He asked, his voice laden with concern. “I told you to stay away, didn’t I?”
“I know, Rob, I know,” I replied, trying to sound confident despite the tremor in my voice. “But I’ve had enough! I just want to know what the hell is going on with these tapes and everything else, and I think you know!” My tone rose, firmer than usual.
I thought Rob would retort and argue back, but instead, he sighed, looking resigned.
“Okay, Marcus,” he finally said. “You want to know what’s going on? I’ll tell you.” He set the papers aside. “Sit down,” Rob indicated a chair next to me, his face serious and concerned.
I sat down, ready to listen.
“First of all, I want you to know that what I’m about to tell you is serious. Very serious,” Rob began, his voice low and intense. “Have you ever heard of the Radio Man?”
A shiver ran down my spine at the mention of that name. The Radio Man was a pretty common urban legend among radio hosts; you can ask anyone if you know. It’s like an entity, a sinister thing, linked to late-night radio broadcasts, sort of like a bloody mary, they usually use it to scare the newcomers who come in at night (I’ve done that myself a few times, but definitely not proud of it now).
“Yes, I’ve heard of him,” I replied, my voice an involuntary whisper. “But I always thought it was just a horror story to scare the newbies.”
Rob nodded slowly. “I thought the same way when I started…” He paused for a moment, seeming to carefully choose his next words. “A long time ago, right after I bought the station, there was a radio host who worked here at night. His name was Richard. He was a talented man, passionate about radio, and about the supernatural.” Rob’s gaze drifted, staring at an empty wall. “We had a late-night horror show on the radio, stories, urban legends, listener reports, all kinds of stuff, but he wanted more.” He cleared his throat.
Incredibly, he managed to make contact with the Radio Man. I don’t know how exactly, but from that moment on, things started to change. Richard became obsessed, continuing to communicate with this entity, even when things started to get strange, and I warned him to stop.”
Rob sighed, his expression grim.
“Eventually, Richard disappeared. No one knows for sure what happened to him. Some say he was taken by the Radio Man, others believe he went mad and ran away. But what is certain is that since then, I haven’t allowed programs of that kind on our schedule.”
“Wow, Rob… I didn’t know–”
“I’m not done yet,” he interrupted, standing up. “Follow me.” We walked to a small room in the back, a sort of basement that Rob nicknamed the ‘Boss’s Room’, since only he had access to it.
I entered the room behind Rob, my mind still trying to process all this information. The room was dark and damp, lit only by the faint light of a bulb hanging from the ceiling. In the center of the room, there was an old dusty table covered in piles of yellowed documents. Rob approached a rusty metal cabinet in the corner of the room and opened the door with a loud creak.
Inside the cabinet, I saw a series of audio tapes dusty with age. The labels displayed an individual letter each, just like the ones I received. Not all the letters were there; some were missing, but I could see, from what I remember, a “B,” an “M,” an “R,” a “W,” and a “Z.”
“What are these tapes?” I asked, my eyes scanning over them.
“We started receiving them shortly after Richard’s supposed contact with the Radio Man. At first, it was the Z tape, an unknown song, a bit unsettling, with a vibe sort of like Tiny Tim, you know? Then a ‘T,’ with the testimony of a serial killer, about how he killed one of his victims; it was stomach-churning. It seemed that the closer to the beginning of the alphabet the letter was, the worse its content would be… until he got the ‘B’ tape.” Rob closed the cabinet with a heavy sigh. “The ‘B’ tape was the last one we received. I didn’t listen to it, and I don’t intend to, but after it, Richard disappeared.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about this before?” I asked, my voice barely rising above a whisper.
Rob sighed, running a hand over his tired face. “I didn’t want to scare you, Marcus. I didn’t want you to get involved in this. I thought that if we ignored it, it would eventually go away. And it did, we had several good years without any trouble, but it seems to have come back, and it’s getting worse.”
The whole story felt like it was ripped from a nightmare. I could barely wrap my head around the idea that something like this was happening at the radio station where I had been working for years, and that I might be involved in it.
“What do we do now?”
Rob seemed pensive for a moment, looking at the dusty tapes in the cabinet.
“I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted, his voice heavy with concern. “But one thing’s for sure: we can’t ignore this. Ignoring it definitely didn’t work. If only we could see how the tapes are being delivered…”
“I…” I hesitated, remembering the moment when a tape was delivered to the station’s door. “The other night, I saw a tape being dropped off at our door. Maybe we can install some security cameras around the building to see if we can catch whoever’s doing this.”
Rob nodded, looking intrigued by the idea. “That might work, I suppose. At least to see if someone is placing the tapes… or if they come out of nowhere.”
We decided to act immediately. We bought some security cameras and installed them around the station, ensuring that all areas were covered. We spent several sleepless nights keeping watch. We used some pre-recorded programs to keep things running smoothly, and boy, was it exhausting.
Finally, on the third night, we managed to capture something:
The “R” tape was delivered by a hooded figure, barely illuminated by the dim streetlight. The individual was tall, skinny, moved in a weird way, very “spidery.” They slid the tape through the gap in the door and vanished into the darkness, as if they had never been there. Rob and I watched in silence, our hearts pounding in our chests as we observed the mysterious figure disappear into the trees. After the video ended, we stared at the screen for a moment, processing what we had just seen. The simple sight of the creature had the same strange effect as hearing the tapes; I felt dirty, burdened…
“So with this… can we send it to the police?” I asked.
“And say what? That there’s a guy dropping tapes at the radio station’s door? I think not only is that not a crime, but it’s expected,” Rob shook his head, looking frustrated. “The police won’t be able to do much with this, even if they wanted to.” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “I guess all we can do is keep watch and try to find out more about these tapes. Maybe we can find some clue that will lead us to an answer.”
I agreed with Rob. If we were going to investigate this, it would have to be on our own.
“Go home and take a shower,” he pinched his nose, “You stink.”
I sniffed my armpit, and I’m not proud to say he had a point. I drove home, trying to leave the thoughts of what we had seen on the road. After a good, well-deserved shower, I threw myself under the sheets and fell asleep. My phone is always on silent, so I was surprised when I picked it up, shortly after waking up, and as my vision adjusted to the screen’s brightness, I could see the outline of (I’m not exaggerating) 26 missed calls from Rob! I immediately called him, after two rings, he picked up.
“Hello! Rob! What’s going on? Did he come back?”
Silence…
“Rob?”
I could hear the sound of the radio station: birds in the distance, heavy breathing in the background; I don’t know what came over me, but I ran like never before to get there. I burst through the door and ran into the room, and when I saw what was there, I was paralyzed. I couldn’t even think about the danger it presented. I stammered, trembled, my mind almost convulsed as cold sweat pulsed down my temples.
Rob was sitting, stunned, his eyes bulging. He was illuminated by the faint light from the ceiling, and I could see him making that silence gesture as he looked at me, with his index finger placed over his lips. Right in front of him, there lay a tape… a tape marked with the letter “A.”
“Rob, I—” I began to walk towards him, but he closed the cabin door abruptly, turning the latch and shutting himself in. “What’s going on?” I tried to open it.
He seemed agonized, holding his mouth, almost as if he were about to vomit, but when his hands wavered, what came out of his mouth was not bile, but a torrent of words. I couldn’t quite understand at first, but just two seconds later, I was affected; it was probably what was on the “A” tape. The words… the mere understanding of them was driving me insane. As quickly as it came, it stopped. I saw Rob grab his mouth. It makes my stomach turn just to remember. He stopped, grabbed his tongue, and stretched it over the counter, picking up a scalpel resting in the second drawer and began his ordeal.
The blade pierced the muscular tissue accompanied by a red eruption. The elderly man’s grunts echoed in a surreal manner. But the pain didn’t stop him. He continued, descending and descending, until the scalpel met the cold wood of the table, now bathed in his blood, sweat, and tears. He stood up with the crimson waterfall flowing from his mouth, while I stared at his tongue, which lay gently beside the tape.
“Oh my God!” I rushed to him, trying in some way to help contain the bleeding. “What are you doing?!” I was in shock, unable to comprehend the scene before me.
Rob tried to articulate something, but his mouth was full of blood, and he seemed unable to speak. His eyes, however, conveyed an almost inhuman desperation. I grabbed my phone and dialed the emergency number, but as the operator said that help was already on the way, I saw Rob, with his finger and using his own blood as ink, write on the table “GO AND DON’T COME BACK.” He pleaded this amidst incomprehensible murmurs.
The teams arrived shortly afterward, and I was stunned by the adrenaline and tried, stumbling, to explain the situation. They seemed to understand, and, I know I was cowardly, but I didn’t accompany Rob to the hospital; I decided to follow his advice and leave everything behind. That was two days ago. Today, as I was getting ready to leave, with my bags packed, I noticed something in my mailbox. I felt sweat down my back as I began to think about what it could be… As I approached and opened it, however, I found a sturdy envelope with an official seal that read:
__________________________________________________________
Summons to Attend Trial
Dear Marcus ——–,
By means of this document, you are formally summoned to attend the trial related to the case of Robert ——-, who is currently hospitalized and unable to appear in person. The trial will take place at the District Court of -——–, on --/–, at --:–, in room --.
Your presence is required as a key witness in the case at hand, in order to provide testimony and relevant information for the ongoing investigation. It is of utmost importance that you attend punctually and be prepared to answer questions from the judge, lawyers, and other interested parties.
In case of impossibility to attend on the designated date and time, we kindly request that you contact this Court as soon as possible to arrange a new date for your testimony.
Your cooperation is essential for the fair and effective progress of this legal process. We count on your presence and collaboration.
Official -——-
_____________________________________________________________
I stared at the paper. After a call to the hospital, I found out that Rob has been unconscious since he arrived at the hospital, and therefore I can only testify to what happened. Considering that the cameras only captured the two of us entering the building, I understand that I am the main suspect (which leaves me unable to leave town).
I don’t know if this has been widely reported, but I just received news that two of the police officers investigating the case were found dead in…well, I don’t want to disgust you, but it definitely wasn’t pretty. Apparently, they were conducting forensic analysis on some objects found at the crime scene, including a tape, as stated in the report.
These are definitely dangerous times, I advise you not to take back roads, avoid passing near towns, and travel with the radio off. But, if you decide to ignore this warning, don’t forget to tune in to Waves FM, every day, from 10:00 PM to 5:00 AM for the best late-night programming…