Hello, everybody.
My name is Octavia. Octavia Melody. And I have something to tell you.
It’s a story. A very strange story….one about me.
More specifically, It’s a story about my choice.
You see, there’s this radio station. It only plays at night, during the very darkest hours before dawn. It’s quite an ordeal if you want to try and stay awake all night…..but it’s worth it if you manage to hear it.
These days, I just leave the radio on all the time, hoping to catch it. My nights are usually sleepless, but it’s totally fine. I’m okay. I’m always okay. And, well, that’s because…..
The station. It helps me.
Some nights, the signal is clear as crystal, and I’ll lie wide awake on my bed, listening closely.
Some nights, I can barely hear it through the veils of static…...and I’ll doze sitting up by the radio, hoping the music will come on.
And some nights...it doesn’t even appear at all.
Those are always the bad nights. And they;re followed by even worse days.
On the occasion when it does happen, it manages to startle me every time. The station’s strange jingle comes out of nowhere, and then it begins playing the most beautiful, haunting songs I’ve ever heard. I don’t recognize a single piece of music, but it completely mesmerizes me. Imagine an island of crystal, floating on a lake of indigo under the moon. No…..imagine a ray of silver sunlight breaking through a sky drowning in thick, black storm clouds.
No, that’s not right either.
None of that is right.
I guess it’s truly indescribable, then….just what this music can do to you.
I’ve heard miraculous stories about this station’s music—people have been healed of dark trauma, people who have considered suicide change their minds when they listen, people are evenbrought together by a hidden “message” within these songs.
And then….there’s the other stories. The stories of those who went crazy.
The music awoke some desire within them, and their sanity dissolved, leaving mere animals behind.
But those stories aren’t important. I mean, how could such speechless, incredible music do that to someone?
Pay no attention to those stories.
My roommate, Vinyl Scratch, is somehow impervious to this station. Every time it’s on, she’ll lie asleep behind me, snoring through the melodies that hold my consciousness captive. I always want to take it to another room so I don’t have to listen to her, but I never dare to….because I fear I’ll lose the signal.
So I have to stick with her, even if she constantly disturbs me.
Before the sun comes up….the station always stops playing. The music disappears. It leaves me.
It leaves me alone, in a positively agonizing silence….wondering if I’ll ever hear it again.
Those of us who have heard the station end up scouring the world for others like us.
We search, we call, we desperately look for answers…..but there are always none.
No one knows where the station is.
What it is.
How it does what it does.
No one knows a single thing.
One night, something strange happens to me.
One of the songs—one of my favorites so far—ended far too early. It wasn’t even halfway done, and it left an uncomfortable prickle under my skin. It didn’t feel right. I wanted to hear more. Why was it ending now?
But then…..a voice starts whispering.
It’s whispering numbers. Longitude and latitude.
They’re coordinates…..coordinates to a place.
A place I’ve never seen.
A place I don’t know.
Why wait?
Without a second thought, I start out, leaving the city far behind me. I don’t usually use Vinyl’s motorbike….but this time I knew I just had to. I don’t have a car, and there was no bus or subway station that would take me to this place.
Don’t ask me how I know that, okay? I just do.
The suburbs turn into small, thriving towns, full of life even at this late hour. The small, thriving towns turn into dead and deserted ones…..ones that will empty forever.
The sun is beginning to rise when the road ends and the desert takes over. But the drifting sand doesn’t stop me, even when the wheels of the motorbike get stuck. I just toss the vehichle aside and keep going.
The sun beats down on me. Sweat soaks my poorly-chosen outfit. The heat burns through the soles of my thin shoes.
Why on earth would I ever stop?
By the time I reach the place, it’s late at night again. It’s a very small building, sitting practically in the middle of nowhere. The front door is unlocked, and I enter.
It’s much bigger on the inside….consisting of only a long hallway. I start down the hallway tentatively, unsure of what I’m looking for.
Doors surround me, but every time I open them, the room is always the same as the one before it. And none of them are what I am looking for.
Once again, don’t ask me how I know that. I just do.
The hallway stretches on for what feels like forever, but I eventually reach the end. The door opens without me even having to touch it, revealing…..the Room.
An extremely old man sits in front of a radio, headphones encircling his scalp. His gnarled fingers twiddle on the dial, even as he turns to look at me.
His eyes are nothing but dead sockets.
His withered face creases into a contented smile, and his body crumbles to dust.
I stand there for a second. I know if I do what I desperately want to, there is no return.
After a second, I take his place, slipping on the headphones.
A chill runs up my spine. They fit me like a glove.
I turn the knob the old man’s fingers were just resting upon, and the music fills my ears. It’s clearer….clearer and more beautiful than ever before.
Joy swells in my heart, and I can’t help but give a smile.
I am home.