Rain splattered against my cracked windshield. The engine of my 2004 Toyota Camry screeched, echoing in the surrounding darkness. I tried to keep a proper grip on the trembling steering wheel. The whole damn car was rumbling. I prayed I would make it home, at least.
I usually don’t drive home from work without music. Tonight, however, I had to do two things: Let my thoughts settle after the outburst I had at work. And listen attentively to the engine, making sure it didn’t explode on me or whatever. I’m not a mechanic, but that sound it gave off didn’t sound normal at all.
Fuck, I thought to myself, I’m gonna need a new job. As soon as possible.
As if laughing at my misfortune, the engine roared and shuddered. “Ahh fuck you too,” I murmured.
I was about thirty-minutes from home, driving on the back roads to avoid the highway. Being surrounded by forest on either side gave off an unsettling feeling. It didn’t help that the flickering headlights struggled to fight with the abundance of darkness.
Goosebumps shot up all over my body as my mind started imagining stupid scenarios. What if a ghost appeared in the middle of the road? And, What if Slenderman is lurking in those woods?
All those creepypastas took a toll on my mental health.
In an attempt to drown out my thoughts, I turned up the radio. At that point, I couldn’t care less if the engine exploded on me. It’d be doing me a favor. I flicked through some stations, the typical radio songs played like Doja Cat and Imagine Dragons. I found one song that sounded good, but the radio station bleeped out every other word.
I sighed, continuing to press the worn-out ‘Seek’ button.
Channel 505.1 nearly caused me to swerve out of the road. My tires spun and squealed as I straightened the steering wheel.
“What if a ghost appeared in the middle of the road? Or what if Slenderman is lurking in those woods?” My voice reverberated throughout the car speakers.
My lips were sealed shut. I didn’t say that.
What the fuck? I thought to myself.
“What the fuck?” I said through the radio.
Why the fuck is my voice in the radio? Was I losing it?
“...Was I losing it?”
I’m just tripping. Maybe those sleepless nights are catching up to me. I pushed the seek button, my finger shaking. Channel 505.2 came up.
“This is it,” a female voice said through the radio. “No one cares and no one will ever care. They just want me for my fucking body. Yet, I keep falling for it, hoping one of the men who says they’re different actually means it. Pathetic. This is it. Do it.”
The radio turned to static.
My eyes stayed glued to the road, glowing letters displaying 505.2 in my peripheral vision. What kind of song was that? I brushed it off as some sort of outro to a love song and reached to press the seek button again.
Before I could press it, a raspy male voice said, “Sorry about that folk! It appears we’ve lost connection to this brainwave frequency. That can only mean one thing.” He sighed. “Our deepest condolences to this person’s family. Anywho, stay tuned as we connect to our next brain!”
What the fuck? This is impossible. Was this a prank? Maybe some bored radio workers? If that was the case, why was my voice… Holy shit.
I pressed the previous button, channel 505.1 popped up.
“...Maybe some bored radio workers?” My voice said through the radio. It also turned to static. The same raspy voice said, “Well that was something, huh? It’s rare when someone is aware. We’ll get right back to his thoughts after this short commercial break. Stay tuned!”
I turned off the radio and glanced around the car as if expecting to see hidden cameras. There had to be a logical explanation for this. How does one connect to brainwave frequencies? I’m no neuroscientist, but I'm 99.9% sure that’s impossible.
If… If this is true, why was I tuned into it? How was I tuned into it?
Up ahead, the forest was ending, meaning I was about 5 minutes from home now.
I just… I need to sleep. My mind was playing tricks on me. Yeah that’s what it was. That’s the only thing that made sense. I chuckled at myself and murmured, “A radio station that plays people’s thoughts? I’ve officially lost it.”
After 5 uneventful minutes, I pulled into my apartment complex and parked in front of my apartment. The rain still pattered softly on the roof of my car. As I turned off the engine, a heavy silence settled over the vehicle. Steam seeped up from the hood as if the car was sighing with relief.
I stepped out and hurriedly walked to my front door, fumbling with my keys. After I entered, I stumbled over something—a small pile of objects I couldn't quite make out.
I flicked on the light switch to find it was one of many dirty piles of clothes. My mother’s voice echoed in my mind, “When I'm gone, I won’t be around to clean up after you. Quit being lazy!” My lips curled up to a smile and I picked up the clothes one by one.
After I finished cleaning up, I grabbed one of the liquor bottles from my kitchen counter. My kitchen doubled as a living room. I never thought it was odd to have carpet-flooring in there until I invited a girl over. She laughed at the random stains and never called me back. Whatever, it is what it is.
I sunk down on my ripped sofa with a sigh. My mistake, the living room tripled as a kitchen and mini gym. There are a few dumbbells and barbells in the far corner. As well as a pull-up bar in the doorway to my room.
I turned on the smart tv and loaded up Spotify. I shuffled through songs while taking sips from the tequila.
“Welcome back to StreamMind! I am your host, Bob. Tonight we’re connecting to the mind of a struggling father with a wife and two daughters. Safe to say we can expect stressful thoughts.” The raspy voice chuckled.
What the fuck…
I looked at the tequila bottle as if it was causing me to hallucinate. I’ve only had three sips and there’s no way they kicked in this fast. Plus, it’s alcohol. It’s not like it can even cause hallucinations.
The man continued, “Before we get started, I want to thank all of you for listening. I won’t lie, this started as a science experiment. But as the streams skyrocketed, we decided to brand ourselves as a business. I can’t stress how much y’all mean to us. As always, enjoy!”
My heart raced. A chill shot up my spine. This was real. They’re tapping into people’s minds… This has got to be illegal.
I gulped down another shot of liquor. The father’s thoughts played.
“I’m gonna fucking kill her. Who the hell does she think she is saying she’s taking the kids this week? No… No. She is gonna die.”
My eyes widened.
“Better yet,” the father continued, “I’m gonna kill all of em’. I’m working my ass off to provide for this ungrateful family. Why should I even continue?”
Anger surged through me. It practically sobered me up.
After a pause, he continued. His voice was shaky, “What… What am I thinking? Why would that ever cross my mind?”
I couldn't pull my eyes away from the screen. A part of me wanted to shut it off and pretend this never happened. The other part of me knew this father was a ticking time bomb. I had to do something. I should report this to the police…
But how? What would I say? How would they know where to find the man?
I took another swig of tequila, hoping it would numb my anger and unease.
The thoughts took a darker turn. "No. No, I should just end it all. Drive off a cliff and take them with me. They don't deserve to live if they're going to ruin my life."
My chest tightened. I stood and paced around the living room, the thoughts still playing in the background.
The thoughts got cut short.
“Woah!” Bob said, “It’s clear that man was demented. I mean, did you listen to his conflicting thoughts? Wow!” He chuckled.
He’s… He’s using this for content? My blood boiled.
“I’ll tell y’all what. A man like that does not deserve to live. Wouldn’t y’all agree?”
I stopped in my tracks, facing the glow of the TV like a deer in headlights.
“If anyone tuning in is interested in dealing with him, his name is Jasper. His address is 308 Gegra Royo Lane.”
308 Gegra Royo Lane, my mind repeated. I looked around, grabbing a pen and paper from my coffee table, then writing down the address.
“Anywho, our next connection will come after this short commercial–”
I shut off the TV and stood in darkness. My mind raced like a lone ranger riding through an open field.
I marched to the corner of the living room and started curling the dumbbells. I had to channel this anger somewhere.
As I worked out, my mind was churning. I knew I couldn't just sit by and let this continue. Reporting it to the police might be an option, but I had no concrete evidence, just a chilling broadcast. And what if they traced it back to me somehow? I couldn't afford to put myself in danger.
…And what if no one else decides to take action? That man will do something terrible.
I must take action.
***
Three days passed. I spent my saved money to buy a Glock 19. It’s scary how easy it was to get. Just talked to a few crackheads and they hooked me up with a local dealer after making sure I wasn't ‘the feds’. Once I bought it, I watched multiple videos on how to handle and properly clean a Glock 19.
I also wrote goodbye notes to all my remaining family and friends. It’s set up to send itself out in a month if I don’t check back. I didn’t plan to die, but just in case.
I did some research. Jasper didn’t live too far away from me. 23 minutes away, according to the GPS.
I packed up some food and supplies, then headed out.
The drive was uneventful. I sat in silence the whole time, praying my car would make the trip. I didn’t dare turn on the radio again. I couldn’t stand listening to another second of that intrusive and sick station.
I pulled into Jasper’s street. He lived in the suburbs. The houses on either side had white picket fencing. The lawns were almost unnaturally green and well-manicured. Heads turned as my beat-up car drove by. The squealing engine caused them to gossip.
Dramatic as fuck. Acting like they’ve never seen a car like this before.
I parked my car three houses down from Jasper’s house. There were no cars in the driveway. I assumed he’s out working.
I tucked my Glock 19 into my jeans and stepped outside. I walked to Jasper’s house, fake-smiling at people who walked by.
I approached Jasper's two-story house. It was painted a dark shade of blue and trimmed hedges lined the front yard. Taking a deep breath, I walked up the driveway and to the front door.
I’ve never broken into anyone’s house before. I thought I’d ring the bell and make sure no one was home first. I didn’t dress like a robber anyway. I’m wearing blue jeans with a black polo shirt.
I pressed the doorbell and took a step back, trying to appear casual while adrenaline surged through my veins.
I heard shuffling from behind the door. The locks clicked, and the door opened a crack. Jasper's face appeared. His eyes were bloodshot and bore heavy eye bags. An overgrown beard took up one third of his face.
“Hey, uh… Do I know ya?”
My heart raced in my chest.
"Hey, sorry to bother you. I'm, uh, new in the neighborhood and just trying to meet some people. My name's Aizen."
His gaze softened a bit, “New to the neighborhood, huh? Well, I'm Jasper. Nice to meet you. But look, now’s not really a good time. I have to go—"
“No worries, I wouldn’t want to interrupt whatever you got going on.”
He peeked his head out, eyes darting back and forth. “Cool, thanks.”
As he was about to shut the door, I stuck my foot in.
“Hey, Jasper, before you go can I ask you something?”
He looked down at my foot, his eyes twitching.
“What?”
“Have you heard of a radio channel called StreamMind?”
“Stream what? No—”
I drew my Glock 19 and aimed it at his temple. My finger wrapped around the trigger. I squeezed three times. Jasper’s head whipped back. His body went limp. He folded over himself, slamming onto the porch pavement. Blood oozed out of his forehead, forming a pool around him.
Watching his eyes roll back into his head felt… Relieving.
I aimed the gun at his chest and fired twice. The bullets ripped through him. Blood splattered on my face and clothes. Whoever said killing someone is difficult is lying. This was easy. I grinned and turned around.
There was a crowd of spectators. People stared at me with shell-shocked expressions. The whites of their eyes took up the entire upper half of their faces.
I walked past them as if nothing happened and hopped into my Toyota Camry. I cranked the engine, but it wouldn’t start. Black smoke rose up from the hood.
Fuck, fuck. Not now.
I twisted the keys. The engine howled. The crowd of spectators walked towards the car. One of them threw a rock.
The windshield shattered. Shards flew towards me. I tried to duck, but it wasn't fast enough. My face was stung by the shower of glass fragments. Blood trickled down my cheeks.
I cranked the engine again.
It turned on.
I put the gear on drive and stomped on the accelerator. My tires spun. The smell of burnt rubber filled the car. I looked back to see the crowd of people running after me on the road. What the hell just happened? Why are they–
My car slammed into something. My face whipped forward and slammed on the steering wheel. I looked up with watery eyes. The whole bumper was caved in. Thick, dark smoke obscured the view. What the hell did I hit?
I stumbled out of the car, my legs were wobbling. The world I was seeing spun. A migraine hammered the inside of my head. I looped around the front of the car, struggling to keep balance.
I hit a fucking telephone pole.
The wood of the pole splintered. It was gonna fall. I darted forward and turned back, waiting for it to fall.
The crowd of people, Fuck, they were marching towards me. They held rocks and make-shift weapons.
I stumbled back. This was it. My final moments.
The crowd walked under the telephone pole. It broke and fell on their heads. They were squashed instantly. Driven into the ground like nails. Blood shot out in all directions. It looked like a red tsunami.
H-Holy shit.
My whole body struggled to stay upright. Witnessing this made me want to throw up. I knew I had to get out of there.
I looked left into the road. An SUV slowed to a stop, looking at the disaster that had just unfolded. There was only one person in the car. Perfect.
I hurried towards it. “Help! Help!”
The man inside turned to me, his eyes widening. “Oh, god. Oh, god! Get in, I’ll take you to an ambulance!”
I looped around to the driver's side.
“Get in the passenger—”
I pistol whipped him and dragged him out of the car. He kicked and punched. I pistol whipped him again.
I hopped in and stepped on the gas pedal. The chaos shrunk out of sight in the rearview. I took a right, leaving the street, and zoomed out of there just as the police were rolling in.
What the fuck just happened? I thought to myself as I turned on the radio. My vision was tunneled, and I didn't even feel the cuts on my face.
The radio was tuned into Channel 505.1. “What the fuck just happened?” My voice said in the speakers.
It turned to static.
Bob’s raspy voice came in, “Holy guacamole, ladies and gents! Did y’all just hear that? Those are the thoughts of a psychopath! What does he think this is, GTA V?” He chuckled. “Now, if you ask me, a man like that shouldn’t be alive–let alone roam free. Wouldn’t y’all agree? If you would like to take action, his name is Aizen. He lives in a shitty apartment complex. The address is 505 Arabella Road.”
***
Ah shit. Well, this is it, Reddit. If I survive whatever is coming my way. I’ll give you guys an update. Or better yet, stay tuned to Channel 505.1.
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