I always loved listening to the radio. Whether I’m listening to quiet music to sleep or a radio show while I’m bored. But, ever since last week I don’t think I want to listen anymore. Last week I was home alone because my girlfriend Amy had gone out with some friends to get drinks. I was cleaning up around the house, sweeping the floor and dusting so Amy could come home to a nice house. I had the radio on listening to some classic rock and singing along to Hotel California and Whitesnake. After I was finished I was fixing up some dinner and left it in the oven while I sat down and read a book. Suddenly the radio cut out into static. I walked over and turned the dial to another station, but still static. Static on every single station. Then suddenly I picked a station up, and it was classical music. I took two steps away from the radio when the music cut out again. A voice came over and it said something I’ll never forget.
“Today on all music, your only radio station that doesn’t pick just one, we have someone tuning in. Hello Kevin.” I stopped in my tracks and turned around at my radio. Did it really say my name? Am I going insane? The voice started again.
“Kevin, do you like our station?” I felt goosebumps on my arm and shivers down my spine that I ignored. Then the oven started beeping. “Kev, you should get the oven. Don’t want a burned down house. I’ll wait.” I turned off the radio and ran to the oven, took out the steak, slammed it on the counter and ran back. The radio was on. “Now Kevin, that’s very impolite.” I reached to turn the dial and then the voice became annoyed and angry. “Kevin, don’t turn that dial! Don’t you dare turn it! Don’t turn it or so help me God!” I stumbled back and tripped over my coffee table, falling down. “I’ll tell you this Kev. You are laying on the ground. You tripped over your table. You’re scared.” I got up and looked around in fear. I finally got the courage to speak back.
“W-what do you w-want?” The voice sighed then said,
“For you to listen in. Every second. Every second you breath better be spent listening or you’ll bleed like a stuffed pig.”
“O-okay,” I stood up and sat down. The music turned back on and I had an idea. I ran to the garage and took out a metal baseball bat I got for show and ran back to the radio. I raised it above my head and before bringing it down, the voice said,
“KEVIN I’LL F*****G KILL YOU.” I slammed the bat onto the radio, and didn’t stop until it was completely obliterated. I was finally free from the voice. I’m writing this because I threw out the pieces of the radio afterwards. But starting two nights ago, I heard a familiar voice from my attic say “Come on Kev. Tune in.”
