Echoes in the Static
A late-night radio host receives a chilling call from a listener who claims to be from the future, warning of an impending disaster.
The 'on-air' light cast a lonely red glow across my studio. It was 3 AM, the hour of insomniacs and lost souls. My show, "Whispers in the Dark," was a haven for them. Tonight, the lines were quiet, filled only by the hiss of static. Then, a call came through, the voice on the other end cracked and distorted. "Don't trust the silence," it rasped, "It's listening."
I dismissed it as a prank, but the calls kept coming, night after night. The voice, who called himself 'Cassandra,' spoke of events with eerie accuracy. A minor earthquake. A stock market dip. Small things, but enough to make my blood run cold. He claimed he was calling from a future that was unraveling, a future I could prevent. His final warning was the most terrifying: "The city will fall silent in three days. The clock is ticking."
A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. Was this a madman's fantasy or a genuine prophecy? The police were no help. I was on my own, armed with nothing but cryptic warnings and the growing fear that I was at the center of a terrible countdown. The city's fate, and my own sanity, hung in the balance, lost somewhere in the echoes of the static.