Unknown Location “Static in the Dark”

“It started with static on the radio, and things just stayed bad like that.

I was switching between stations on the AM. Back then I liked to changed things up, listen to some of the wackjobs waxing on and on about the degradation of the country or aliens or something. If I was lucky someone would be talking about aliens. Most of the time I was not that lucky.

And sometimes, when it was late and I was in a mood, I would turn the radio to static and just see if I could hear anything hidden in the signal. It is of course not hidden, it is just weak reception, but it was a fun way to pass the time when it is late at night and you have little else to do.

It was the night after my brother passed away.

I was feeling lost. Looking back I probably shouldn't have been driving at all, but I had a shift in the morning and there was no one to cover for me. So went ahead and switched to a area between stations and started the game.

As I was listening, the night seemed to drift away, the stars standing out in stark relief as I listened in, my driving set on autopilot. I had driven to and from my childhood home throughout the years, and was not uncommon for me to arrive home after a late night without remembering the drive. Stuff like that used to worry me a lot, but I always ended up getting home okay.

I haven't been okay for a long time now.

The world was falling away as I searched the static for anything. Anything at all. Maybe ten minutes passed with no results, but that changed when I began to hear voices coming in. At first, it all sounded like a foreign language, but as I began to listen more closely the voices began to become clearer. It was hard to make out still, but as I drove it got clearer and louder.

It started off as gibberish, but then some sentences began to form in the void.

“Falling...tumbling through...”

“...find it in the void. Seek us...”

“...THEY...”

I began to gather that it was likely a church station. I've never cared for that crap, and so I was getting ready to change it when a voice came through loud and clear.

“...Please Dan...please...I'm lost...no stars...left...”

My name was Daniel back then.

I don't know what to call myself anymore.

I hear static all the time now. In my head. There are no voices in the noise, just a continuous droning that refuses to stop. I haven't slept for days, maybe even weeks. I don't need sleep anymore, but I miss it desperately. I miss so many things.

A few days after hearing the broadcast I began to feel an itching under my skin.

I tried everything I could think of to get rid of it, but nothing worked. I went to my doctor, hoping it was an allergic reaction to something, but though she had us run as many tests as could reasonably be recommended, the end result was that it wasn't physical.

At least, that is what she said. She suggested a therapist, suggesting that the trauma of losing my brother had caused me to develop a psychosomatic tick. Like an eye twitching due to stress. I stopped going to the therapist after several months with no results, those months filled with little save the constant itching and the static that no longer played on the radio.

It was in my head.

Some days the static is worse than others. On those days, early on, the itching would reach a peak and I would struggle to do anything but scratch. It wasn't too long before I realized that if I caused my skin to bleed that the itching would stop, at least subdue for a short while.

I don't really have skin anymore. Or legs.

Or a heart.

I write this with appendages. Not a word I ever considered ever having to use to describe myself. I write this, because I am in pain. The itching continues all the time, but it feels more like just a product of the changes. I don't know what I did to earn this, if I did anything...

I wish the static would talk again. I wish I could know why I am changing, and what part my brother had to play in any of it if at all. If you find me, see me in this thing I think is still my body...

Please don't hesitate, because I don't think I can stop myself much longer. TH3Y ca;; t@ m3/...

I CA:: T@ TH3M...”

Tracy passed away last night.

She never woke up. I wasn't able to talk to her.