Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-17724348-20160401172657

So this is the first pasta that i tried to upload, but it got deleted as soon as i posted it, maybe because it appeared as  a wall of text when i transferred it to the editor, maybe because it was boring, so I'll just post it here the way it was supposed to look. Any advice would be appreciated.

Frequency 999

The gentle slopes of Herzegovina and the new moon were barely visible in the night which had been shrouded by heavy clouds. The road was downright empty, therefore Jakob set his headlights on high beam, taking advantage of such an opportunity in that situation. As he was getting further from the last cluster of houses of the village where his uncle's house was, he began to question whether he should take the long and exhausting main road back to town, or the shortcut by the old quarry on the left, which indeed was a bit less desirable due to all the debris, nails, or even old shotgun shells noone bothered cleaning up and what not simply lying on the old asphalt road, therefore presenting a risk of damaging the tires or causing similar problems. He would usually make a straightforward choice of going the easier way, but he felt as if he made enough bad choices that day already, such as selling his part of his grandma's heritage to his uncle. However, he was already too tired, both physically and mentally, to drive another 40 kilometers so he took the left instead.

In reality, that 'shortcut' road wasn't really much shorter than the main one, but it felt even more barren and even more quiet and provided you with a mild illusion of safety. From people, at least, (Let's face it, you wouldn't expect a sober person to drive through that forest shortly after midnight without any exclusive reason, such as this one) as there have barely been any cars there ever since the quarry was shut down in 1997 after an unpredicted fire took the lives of 4 workers. The landscape around the road was filled with short trees and thorny bushes, and the only sounds were those of owls and crickets. To break the silence, Jakob turned on the radio and after a short delay, and a nameless station labeled on the car computer with only its frequency; 99.9, started playing vinyl music, likely from the 40s. Despite the audio quality being a bit distorted, the music itself was fairly memorable and sophisticated. One thing Jakob noticed after a couple of minutes of driving through the God-forsaken woods of western Herzegovina, is that the newfound radio station, besides not having a name, had no podcasts or real-time speech, only music. And with every minute, that music slowly became more and more distorted, so he pressed the button to find the next station, but after a couple of seconds of seeking for other signals, it would always switch back to the now-filled-with-static frequency 99.9. It was slowly getting frustrating, and as he glanced down to the command board to turn off the radio, in the corner of his eye, he thought he saw someone, or something, cross the road right in front of the car.

He swiftly fixated his eyes back on the road, assuming what he just witnessed was nothing more than a mirage caused by the lack of sleep in the past few days, and therefore decided to speed up a little when out of nowhere, the radio turned itself back on, showing the numbers 99.9 once more, this time producing no sound except for various tunes of static. Now confused, Jakob pressed the off button again, but with no effect, then several times after that, all at the same time while watching the carelessly constructed road. After pressing it for about the fifth time, it seemed as if he finally managed to turn it off. Just as he tried to take the next few seconds to calm himself down in an attempt to proccess what was going on, all of a sudden, the engine stopped, turning off the headlights and the vehicle, whereas the car computer, along with the radio, switched itself back on for the second time, but this time the screen didn't appear yellow with black letters like it usually did. This time it was hellish red and everything was distorted, except for those infamous numbers which were now somehow upside down, revealing the number 666. What used to be the radio transmission was now a sequence of demonic screams heard in the background of the still present static, with a dark voice saying:

„Dead end, Mr. Jakob.“

Jakob just sat there in shock and distress looking at the radio, letting out a single, silent noise;

„Wh-what do you want from me?“

„WAKE UP AND SMELL THE COFFEE.“,

the demonic voice replied ragefully, and in the blink of an eye, the transmission suddenly stopped, and now the car was in complete darkness. With no apparent reason, Jakob honked, possibly in a vain attempt to alert somebody of his state.

But there was nobody to hear his signal. Or so it seemed.

Not even a moment later,a sound could be heard of something violently scratching the car from outside. Jakob started sweating heavily and his skin was as cold as ice. He felt his vocal chords shaking, and he didn't feel his limbs at all. All he knew was that he was afraid like never before in his life and that there is some otherworldly creature ready to rip him apart, judging by the sound its claws were making, but to his unfortunate surprise, when he saw (as much as he was able to) the scratch marks going down the windshield, there was nothing actually clawing the car, meaning either whatever cryptic being did that was invisible, or...

...there was no creature at all. As he sat there helplessly, contemplating the fact that his end might be imminent, suddenly, even though the radio remained off this time, an eerie, twisted version of the old folk song 'Turkey in the Straw' started playing out of thin air and the windshield was soon inscribed with poorly written letters reading;

noescapenoescapenoescapeNOESCAPENOESCAPEnoescape FROM ME

Jakob was too distraught to read it. By that time he was nearly out of his senses. With panic controlling his mind, he ran out of the car into the woods screaming for help, ignoring the dozens of thorns that were piercing his feet, led by an adrenaline rush. In the climax of the situation he saw a single shack in the middle of the woods, and without thinking about the consequences a bit he ran to it as fast as lightning, violently opening the door to a sickening scenario. A corpse which appeared rather fresh was hanging from the ceiling and its hands were missing, as if someone had detached them. Overcome by an immense sense of pain, sickness and fear he fell to the ground, coughing up blood with just enough energy to roll himself an inch away from the door where he ended his journey back home. As he looked up to the dark sky for what he thought was his last time, a shadowy humanoid figure appeared above him, and he fell into a comatose state. 9 days later, he woke up in a hospital room after being found along with the mysterious corpse by some mountaineers, surrounded only by those same, unrecognizable shadowy figures in white uniforms. His nervous system was obliterated. His emotions left him. He was an inch away from death, but he couldn't care less. He could neither feel nor see anything properly. He could only hear that damn vinyl sound over and over, coming straight from hell... 