Nightmare Gallery: A Treasury of Twisted Terror Tales

The Final Broadcast

It was an ordinary evening in the small town of Oakridge when the phone rang in the local radio station, WOKR. The station had been struggling with dwindling listeners for months, but tonight, a sense of excitement hung in the air. Perhaps this call would change everything.

"WOKR, you're on the air!" DJ Mark Henderson answered, his voice steady and confident.

"Is this the station that broadcasts at night?" a raspy voice asked, filled with urgency.

Mark raised an eyebrow. "Yes, sir. What can I do for you?"

"I need you to listen closely. There's something in the woods... something unnatural. It's been taking people."

Mark chuckled nervously, thinking it was a prank call. "Is this a Halloween gag? Because it's a little early for that."

"Listen!" the voice cut through his laughter like a knife. "If you don't take this seriously, more people will go missing. You need to warn them. It's coming for you next."

Before Mark could respond, the line went dead. He looked at the clock; it was just past nine. He shrugged it off, assuming it was just another weirdo. But deep down, the urgency in the man's voice lingered, gnawing at him.

As the evening progressed, the weather turned. A fierce storm rolled in, pounding the town with rain and wind. The lights flickered, and Mark felt the hairs on his arms stand on end. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen.

"Stay tuned, folks," he said into the mic, trying to project calm. "We'll keep you updated on the storm. If you're out there, stay safe!"

He received a few calls about the weather but no further warnings. It wasn't until around eleven when the phone rang again, this time with a different caller. Mark hesitated, thinking of the previous call, but answered nonetheless.

"WOKR, you're on the air."

"Mark, you need to help us!" a woman's voice pleaded, panic evident. "My sister went out into the woods hours ago, and she hasn't returned. I think she's in danger!"

"Calm down, miss. What's your name?" Mark asked, feeling the weight of the situation.

"Lena! My sister, Sarah, went hiking in Wrenwood Forest. Please, you have to send someone!"

"I'll do my best. Is there any specific place she might be?" he asked, jotting down notes.

"Yes! The old stone bridge! She always goes there for the view!" Lena's voice broke. "I think she's in trouble."

Mark's heart raced. Wrenwood Forest was notorious for its dense trees and labyrinthine paths. He felt a twinge of responsibility, knowing he was the only voice reaching the community that night.

"Okay, I'll get in touch with the authorities. Hang tight," he reassured her, even as uncertainty gnawed at his gut.

After hanging up, Mark dialed the local police. It rang and rang, but no one answered. Frustration built within him. He turned back to the microphone.

"Listeners, we have an emergency situation. If anyone is in Wrenwood Forest, please return immediately. A woman is missing, and her family is worried."

As he spoke, thunder rumbled ominously outside, and the wind howled through the cracks of the old radio station. The lights flickered again, and suddenly, the radio equipment crackled, then went silent.

Mark cursed under his breath. He fiddled with the knobs, trying to get the signal back. "This isn't the time for technical difficulties!" he muttered.

Then he heard it—a soft whisper emanating from the darkness outside. "Help me..."