“… I didn’t do it, I swear I was framed by my husband and–” the lady broke down into sobs and the rest of what she had to say became an incoherent jumble.

“Thank you for your time Marla, hopefully you will get the revenge you want,” the radio host said over the lady’s sobs, obviously indifferent to her misery. “Next up, we have a song by singer…”

Michel turned the volume down. He leaned back on his seat and stared blankly at the neon green numbers on his dashboard. 21:56. About five more minutes until the next segment. He tapped his foot impatiently on the floor of his truck.

Over the past hour, while driving on the freeway, he had been listening to the stories that were broadcast from the radio. All were of real life events told by people the show had brought in and with every passing minute, the next story became more horrific than the last. At this point, Michel had become insusceptible–immune–to even the most disturbing tales. He had heard it all, from tales of sons murdering their mothers to tales of mothers abandoning their daughters. He had heard it all, except for the story he had to hear the most.

He hadn’t slept for almost a week. He already had poor sleeping habits before, but now, ever since he received the message, he was barely sleeping an hour each night. The only reason he managed to sleep was thanks to alcohol. At least alcohol was something he could count on.

The gas pump attendant was staring at him and whispering to his colleagues. It was obvious he has overstayed his welcome at the gas station and so with a sigh, Michel turned onto the freeway again.

21:59. The song was coming to an end. The singer was singing her last chorus in her shrill voice. “Oh you don’t know what I’ve seen, but still please come home, home, home…..”

Michel grimaced at the singer’s voice. He was glad he had turned the volume down as he doubted he could stand another minute of the singer’s wailing voice.

“Welcome back to our show ‘Spotlight on the Spirits’ where you will hear what really happened, now before we begin, we have our raffle where we give out trials to…..” the host continued.

Michel didn’t want to listen this segment. In fact, if it wasn’t for the constant whisper he was hearing every night, he wouldn’t have found this station. He refused to listen the whisper at first but as his sleep quality was deteriorating, he gave in and decided to listen, only to rid himself of the whispers. Driving on the road was becoming more tiring as the days went on.

“… and our raffle will end at the end of the segment so stay tuned. We also have exciting news about….” the host blabbered on.

Every night he would hear the whisper, in a shouting voice. Tune in at night, you must, you must… tune in to 56.9…

“And now our next guest–” Here Michel slumped slightly into his seat “– welcome Sam.”

The host went on, “Now Sam, tell us your story. What happened to you?”

“Ok, so about 40 years ago, I went to a friend’s house just to hang out, catch up on each other’s lives,” Sam started.

Michel gripped his steering wheel tighter in anticipation for what was to come.

“The next day, I was found dead in the basement. A knife was stuck in me and my skull was bashed to pieces. They said I was hit with a blunt object,” Sam continued, betraying no emotion in his voice.

Michel held in his breath and waited for it to be over.

“They said- they said my friend had killed me. That he had dragged me to the basement when I was sleeping. The police, my parents, even my friend’s parents, they all said it was him. They found evidence. Apparently they found evidence.”

“That’s not true though.”

Michel braked so fast that the tires of the car emitted the most horrendous screech. He had broken into a cold sweat.

“The police wanted to close the case to put my parents and the town at ease.” A sigh. “So they arrested him the next day. He maintained his innocence but he lost. He still lost.”

“And so for the past 40 years he has sat in jail and only recently he came out,” Sam paused before finishing.

“He wasn’t a murderer before he went in but he sure became one when he came out.”

Michel shut his eyes. He could hear police sirens. He swore he could hear police sirens. This time it was a true punishment.

“Thank you Sam for your story,” the host went on nonchalantly. “We’ll now go for a break but stay tuned to 56.9 g. H.O.S.T , the only radio channel where the truth is actually the truth.”

By: Molly C.