[Dark screen. The faint hiss of static grows louder.]
Narrator (deep, chilling voice):
"It was just an old radio… forgotten in the corner of a quiet bedroom."
[Flash: a dusty radio dial flickers on by itself. A whisper cuts through the static.]
Whisper (distorted, barely audible):
"He’s still here…"
[Quick shots: a shadow in the doorway… a figure staring into the radio late at night… eyes wide with terror.]
Narrator:
"But when the broadcasts began… they weren’t music. They weren’t news. They were warnings."
[Scream. The dial turns violently on its own. A voice on the radio laughs, echoing unnaturally.]
Narrator:
"Every night, the signal grew stronger… and the messages… more personal."
[Cut to black. Heavy breathing. Then a single, whispered word from the radio:]
"Run."
[Explosion of static. Rapid cuts: hands clawing at the radio, a figure crawling backwards in fear, the radio glowing with an unnatural light.]
Narrator (intensifying):
"Some signals should never be tuned in… Some voices should never be heard…"
[Final shot: The protagonist sitting frozen in front of the radio, unable to move, as shadowy hands emerge from the speaker.]
Narrator (whisper):
"The Whispering Radio."
[Static slam. Silence.]
Stay tuned for this story coming soon to 'OZ'
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