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anotherkyoto · 3 years

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the ephemeral radio. joshua crane investigates a town filled with ghosts of the past, present and future. though one can almost find proof of the non-existence of the paranormal, the little town is the exception for it.

content warning for the entire story: mention of child abuse, mental illness, violence, discussion of suicide, drug use, cadaver and gore.

[archive of all the casettes]

Casette no.I. [1K]

Silence lays heavily on the small manx town of Ephemeral. The streetlamps, that look a lot like old gas lamps, but since then renovated to be electrical, are illuminating the town square. There's not a single soul outside, not after the disappearance of Margarethe Shelley.

It's past midnight, as the clock on the library tower says, and as such as this time means that the teenagers and the odd folk of Ephemeral are intently listening to their radios.

"Local police announced they're still on the lookout for the beast that has been spreading fear throughout the entire town. And that has claimed four victims since Friday night.

Authorities asked to remain indoors until the creature has been captured and the curfew is lifted.

You're listening to 102.3, the Ephemeral Frequency, all night, every night." The calming, yet eerie voice of the Host announces his intro for the night. A soft and short tune follows, as they usually do in podcasts and radio stations, and then the Host continues.

"Unfortunately, against the usual method, you need to leave a message for now, if you have any stories to tell about your encounters with the supernatural. Because tonight I have prepared something different for you. We have a very special guest joining us tonight, basically a celebrity since her disappearance from town."

The man says with an excited voice into the microphone as he hangs up an incoming call to the radio. He looks at the woman infront of him, bound to the wooden chair by ropes.

"Margarethe Shelley, an outsider, not so long ago, am I correct?"

"What is this?! Why am I here?!" The young woman answers in a panicked voice, just woken up from her forced dream. She can barely remember where she was or how she got here. She tries against her bonds but to no avail.

The Host doesn't even acknowledge her existence as he continues his monologue.

"Say hello to the audience, Margarethe."

Of course the young woman doesn't reply. She remembers the man from somewhere, but she can't quiet put a finger on it. She barely lived in this town anyway, only arrived a couple of months ago. Her employer sent her there to investigate the strange phenomenas, that's been rumored to happen around this strange old town.

"You know, Margarethe, there has been a lot of speculations about what has really brought you to Ephemeral. No one knows exactly for sure what you were doing here or why, not even our dear mayor, but there have been a lot of theories and rumors."

She scoffs, her blonde hair falling into her face as she angrily replies.

"There's no mystery. I'm only here because of my work. I was doing renovations of old books in the local library."

"Oh is that right?" The man counters quickly with a mocking tone. "The librarian didn't know anything about this mystery renovation of yours."

"My employer is someone else." She bites back bitterly.

"And whom might that be?"

"That's confidential." She says and there's a couple seconds of silence between the two.

The Host smiles and it scares the woman.

"Of course, I understand... yet people have wondered when you left so suddenly, without any warning. Even missing person posters have been put up all over town."

"I wasn't missing." She replies shortly, still there's a sudden change in her voice. No more vice, no more bitterness, only sadness.

The Host knows the reason and he smiles with a grin and continues.

"Oooh, I know. But there have been other missing person reports. Children, barely old enough to leave their house by their own."

"I've had nothing to do with that, please. I'm begging you... I was going to go home to my family, they're surely missing me by now, if I don't return-"

"But of course your family can be glad, because you're not really missing. Unlike the children, brutally attacked and murdered by some beast."

There's silence again before a few tears slide down on the woman's cheeks.

"Please." Is her only reply.

The Host opens his desks' drawer and pulls out a silver revolver, already loaded and he points it at Miss Shelley. She sobs as she closes her eyes.

"If there's anyone listening, come to the radio station please, I'm begging you-"

"Of course, but the children were begging as well, I bet." The Host replies coldly without emotion.

The room is suddenly illuminated, not only by the few neon signs, but the moon as well.

"What's happening?!" An afraid shriek leaves the woman as she starts to shake in the chair, her whole body feeling like it's on fire.

"Margarethe, thank you for being here tonight. This month's celebrity in Ephemeral. We wish you safe travels home... the raining has stopped, the weather is clearing and we featured Miss Margarethe Shelley on The Ephemeral Frequency. We'll be right back, stay tuned."

XXX the radio remained silent for almost an entire minute, as the music was cut off suddenly - note, by J.C.

"We heard from the authorities, and the creature has finally been captured. Our next song is dedicated to them.

The creature has been identified as a wolf, and has been brought down by our brave officers. The victims of this creature are forever in our memories and we keep their families in our thoughts.

I suggest, my dear listeners, you stay inside tonight, though it stopped raining and the last full moon of august is brightly shining...

You know what they say... if there is one wolf, there is usually more around the area.

You have been listening to the Ephemeral Frequency, I'm your Host, and as always, I'll be here for you all night, every night."

#os: the ephemeral radio #the ephemeral radio #casette 1

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anotherkyoto · 3 years

Text

the ephemeral radio. joshua crane investigates a town filled with ghosts of the past, present, and future. though one can almost find proof of the non-existence of the paranormal, the little town is the exception for it.

content warning for the entire story: mention of child abuse, mental illness, violence, discussion of suicide, drug use, cadaver, and gore.

[archive of all the casettes]

Cassette no.II. [2K]

The rhythmical lull of the train wheels over the rail tracks is hypnotizing. Or at least they’ve put quite some people to sleep in the car. Some passengers lay their heads against the window, swaying from time to time.

Not Joshua Crane, though. His headphones are covering the calming noise of the train, and he’s listening intently to his cassette player. He could enjoy the view of the land from the window, but he’s too busy writing into his notebook. His handwriting is messy, and the page is almost incomprehensible by the way it’s full of arrows, crosses, and notes upon notes.

अग्र अस्ति समीप

“Amid life, we are in death...” The Host says, with a chill in his voice. “My dear listeners, you’re listening to 102.3, the Ephemeral Frequency.”

The usual short theme tune plays, as he says his catchphrase.

“Here’s a little history lesson for you. Although I’m sure you all heard the stories of the brig Kanaloa. Maybe during class, maybe from your elders. Or as a warning tale from your parents, when you were only little.”

A spooky tune starts playing, but not overspeaking the Host.

“One of the most terrible disasters ever occurring on our coast happened on Kitterland at 7:45am 28 December 1852. We all know about the sailing vessel coming from Scotland. Its original destination was Liverpool, but as we all know it never arrived with its cargo.

The storm was nothing like that night. The thunder and lightning were the least of people’s worries in Ephemeral. The real danger was the wild waves hitting the rocks and the docks. And just like that, on the terrible night of 27 December, the brig hit the rocks of Kitterland. At the sound of the crash, one young lass came out of her house. At the site of the ship, she called for the man of the town. The mayor, Hamish Northwest put up a rescue team.

Despite the weather, they managed to get to the ship. The captain along with four of his men was lost to the waves. But the real tragedy came after. Among the cargo were barrels full of gunpowder. For whatever reason, probably on the impact the barrels scattered below deck. One lantern was enough to start the explosion. 29 local men died in the terrible explosion which was heard up to 18 miles away.

Hamish Northwest, the mayor himself, and another man, one of the crew members were the only survivors.”

There’s a moment of silence before the radio host starts up again. His voice no longer sounded sad, but rather excited.

“One thing the tales miss to mention is the confession of the survivor. Dogan Fellows was badly wounded in the blast. But his mind was scarred the worst. He told a tale, of something lurking in the depths of the Irish Sea. It wasn’t the rocks. He swore. It wasn’t the storm. It was a monster.”

His chuckle is dark and chilling.

“Oh, we all know about the monster lurking in the water, don’t we? Dogan married, despite his strangeness and deformity. He had a son, and along the line of his family, our town still has a Fellows man amongst us.

There’s a rumor Dogan had kept the journal of the captain of Kanaloa. Maybe if we-”

The host suddenly stops as he speaks, and he chuckles.

“I see we have a caller. Maybe someone out there has something to add to the story? We’re listening, what’s your name, my dear caller?”

The line cuts to the caller, the voice a bit distorted, probably thanks to the state of the tape. Joshua has to turn up the volume to hear the other better.

“You know it’s bad to spread rumors...” the caller decides to not introduce himself, but it’s the voice of a man with an accent Joshua can’t really place.

“I see. Do you want to stay anonymous, a chuilein?” The Host’s voice is teasing.

“I don’t have the journal, stop bothering me.” the other replies, not answering the real question.

There’s a moment of silence before the host sighs.

“If you say so... Is there anything else, you would like to say or add?”

Another moment passes before the caller finishes.

“There’s a storm brewing. People should avoid the docks and the beach. Especially the island.” he warns before hanging up.

The Host seems disappointed as he speaks again.

“Well... that’s something. Now I have the need to sail out myself, maybe I can catch a glimpse of the monsters lurking in the shadows. But for you, my darling listeners, it is time to go. Enjoy this next song, dedicated to the one and only lighthouse keeper of our isles, Captain Jonathan Fellows. You have been listening to the Ephemeral Frequency, I’m your host, and as always, I’ll be here for you all night, every-”

अहम्इदानीम्एवआगतवान्

Joshua hits stop on the recording. It’s been less than a month since the University got the anonymous package containing these tapes. All of them are numbered in order.

It was pure luck Joshua came upon them, and because of his job as a journalist for the institution, he got the assignment. Find out more about the tapes, especially the ones that contain paranormal stories. Visit the town of Ephemeral and get to the bottom of it all.

It all seems like a hoax, at least to Josh. He gathers his things, a light green tweet coat, and his worn-out leather shoulder bag. The train stops and he gets off at the station. The wind blows wildly and he puts on his coat. He’s the only one getting off at the station.

He had to fly all the way from Edinburgh to the Isle of Man. Then he had to take a train to get to the south. Roughly an eight-hour trip, his legs are stiff from all the sitting and waiting.

He didn’t pack much, thinking his trip would be short. He studied parapsychology and he knew how to spot the difference between the ‘real’ paranormal and hoaxes. The town of Ephemeral was all but real, in his opinion. And this radio station was nothing more than a horror-loving podcast. To think of it, he didn’t meet anything that was proofed to be an actual supernatural encounter. But he’s interested, nonetheless.

But, he had to write an article about something. So here he was, walking on the muddy road leading to the heart of the town.

He sighs, swearing under his breath for there being no cabs around. His curly, medium-long brown hair is flying to his face, some flocks sticking to his face. It’s rather annoying, but he’s quite used to it.

His boots are for hiking, so it’s not that uncomfortable.

It takes him roughly half an hour to get to the edge of the town. Why did they have to put the train station so far out of town? He thinks, getting closer to the buildings. There’s a hospital just across from a school. They look so different, so out of tune from each other. One is a modern building, the construction wasn’t creative, that’s for sure. Meanwhile, the building of the school looks like a mix of a mansion and a church. It was probably built in the 18th century. A renovation here and there, to not let the structure fall down, but nothing too modern.

Joshua passes both of them, getting on the main road. He passes a couple of small shops. Nothing mainstream, there are copies only. Star Crucks, Duckin’ Donuts, and Taco Hell. Joshua snorts reading the names, and he stops at his destination. Next to a tall gothic building, which is a library, there is a small cottage.

It seems out of place, with the white painted wooden fence around it. There’s a pathway to the back of the building, and Joshua follows it. It’s a two-story building, and with a hand-painted sign it says: “The Dark Swan”

It’s a stone building, much like every other building in Scottland, so he feels right at home. There’s a ring bell over the door as he enters. The warmth of the building almost punches him in the face. He unbuttons his jacket and looks around.

Despite it being a structure of stone outside, on the inside, everything is made out of wood. Quite strange, but Joshua doesn’t mind. There are paintings on the wall, depicting sail sailboats in the storm and animals in the forest. They’re all made by the same painter, as far as the journalist can tell by the style.

The reception is under the stairs, like some kind of small tent, and a woman in glasses is reading a heavy-looking book. Her hair is short and black, her skin fair. She doesn’t seem to notice him.

He walks up to the desk and awkwardly clears his throat to make an attempt at being noticed.

The woman looks up, her eyes cold and blue as the sea in one of the paintings behind her.

“Something wrong with your voice, lad?” she asks, quite rudely.

He raises an eyebrow at that but introduces himself.

“I’m Joshua Crane. I have a room reserved?”

It comes out like a question, even though he didn’t mean it like that.

She looks him up and down, which the man doesn’t appreciate that much, awkwardly shifting from one leg to the other. Then she slowly looks down at her desk, getting out an even heavier and much more dusty book. She flips through the pages.

“Yes, I see...” She says, almost surprised he wasn’t joking. “How long will you be staying?”

“Three days. At least that’s the plan.”

It’s her turn to raise an eyebrow, but she doesn’t comment on it. She rotates the book, so he can see it properly.

“Sign your name here, and I need the price in advance. Here’s your key to the room. It’s 2B. Upstairs, the first room to the right.”

He takes the pen from the table and he notes the last visitor was signed in the book on the date of 2018. Almost an entire year ago. But what actually catches his eye is the name written next to it. Margarethe Shelley. The woman from the first cassette tape. He signs his name in, along with the date, then takes the key to his room.

“What happened to the woman?” he asks, too curious about his research already.

The receptionist looks at him funny.

“What woman?”

Joshua points at the book, which she already hides behind the desk again, closing its dusty pages.

“Ask around, Joshua Crane. I have better things to do.”

With that she picks up her previous book, he can only read the title, but can’t make much sense of it as it is written in Latin.” Omnes videntes inoculum”. Whatever that might mean. And with that she disappears behind a door, saying ‘employee only’.

Without much to go on, he climbs the stairs to make his way to his room.

#os: the ephemeral radio #the ephemeral radio #casette 2

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