Chapter One: Static
The Mallowridge Broadcasting Station sat at the edge of town like a forgotten relic. Its brick walls were cracked, windows boarded up, and a faded sign swayed in the autumn wind. To most, it was just another abandoned building — a shell of a place that once hummed with life and voices.
But to Avery Cross and her team, it was their next investigation.
“We’ve been chasing leads for weeks,” Avery said, stepping through the cracked front doors. Her breath came out in little puffs in the cold air. “If there’s any place that’s still holding onto its ghosts, it’s here.”
Behind her, Elias Kane adjusted his jacket, his skeptical gaze sweeping the dim interior. “Ghosts or not, the power’s been off for decades. How are we supposed to get anything out of this place?”
Jax Mercer grinned, already pulling wires and gadgets from his backpack. “That’s the fun part. Sometimes, the best signals come from the strangest places.”
Cole Harding hefted his camera over his shoulder. “Let’s just keep moving before the cops show up.”
Maya Lin scanned a stack of dusty files on a nearby counter. “There’s a lot of history here. Broadcasts, live shows, town meetings. This place was the heart of Mallowridge for years.”
Avery nodded. “Let’s find something—anything—that tells us why this station feels… wrong.”
They moved quietly through the empty halls, the only sound their footsteps and the distant creak of old pipes.
Then, in the back room — the old studio — something caught Jax’s eye.
An antique television set, its wood frame scratched and dull, stood in the corner. It was plugged in, its antenna cracked but intact.
“Guys… this is weird,” Jax said, kneeling before it. “Power’s on. Someone’s been here recently.”
Avery frowned. “Could it be the town? Vandalism?”
Jax shrugged and turned the dial.
Static.
Then suddenly—an image flickered.
A grainy news broadcast, black and white, but the reporter was speaking in a voice that chilled the room.
“…investigators were found dead inside the residence, all equipment fried beyond repair. Authorities are calling this an act of mass psychosis…”
The screen showed a crime scene taped off with yellow police barriers.
And in the center—Avery’s own face, bruised and lifeless. Elias lying still, blood pooling beneath him.
Avery dropped to her knees, choking on a scream.
The camera clattered to the floor, capturing the horror-struck faces of the crew as the screen faded to black.
The last thing the TV displayed was a single line in red:
October 31st
Three nights from now.
Chapter Two: The Feed
The motel room was dark except for the pale glow of Jax’s portable monitor. The crew huddled around it, still shaken from the footage they’d seen at Mallowridge Broadcasting Station.
Avery’s hands trembled as she replayed the segment, frame by frame. “It’s… it’s us. But… we’re dead. And this is three nights from now.”
Elias ran a hand over his face. “There’s no way this is real. Someone—some hacker—set this up. Deepfake technology or something. It’s… impossible, but there has to be an explanation.”
Jax shook his head, leaning closer to the screen. “It’s not a prank. Look at the details. The bruises, the gear, the blood patterns—they’re too precise. Whoever did this knew exactly what we look like, down to our last investigation.”
Cole slammed his fist against the wall. “Then what the hell are we supposed to do? Wait around to see if it happens?”
Maya spoke softly, pointing at the screen. “And look here. Behind the bodies… that red paint. The date. October 31st. That’s three days from now. That’s… it’s a countdown.”
Avery swallowed hard. “A warning, maybe. Or a prediction. I don’t know which scares me more.”
They spent the rest of the night trying to find the source of the signal. Jax hooked the portable TV to a battery pack, scanned frequencies, and ran software to detect the channel. Nothing.
“Channel 99 doesn’t exist,” he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. “I’ve scanned every frequency, every network… it’s like the channel is… broadcasting from somewhere else. Somewhere… impossible.”
Elias leaned back in his chair, exhausted. “Impossible or not, it’s coming for us. That footage—it’s not a warning anymore. It’s showing the future. And if we can’t change it…”
Cole’s voice was barely a whisper. “We’re dead.”
Silence fell over the room, thick and heavy. Avery stared at the glowing screen, a cold dread settling into her chest.
And then, a new clip appeared on the monitor without warning.
It wasn’t of them this time. It was a young couple running through a cornfield, screaming, chased by a flickering figure in white. The camera was shaky, frantic—like someone was running for their life.
“Every episode,” Jax whispered. “It’s more deaths. More hauntings. All… future events.”
Avery’s stomach turned. “And eventually… it’s going to lead to us.”
The screen flickered, then went black, leaving only static humming in the dark.
Outside, the wind rattled the windows of the motel room. Inside, the crew realized something terrifying: Channel 99 wasn’t just showing them the future—it was waiting for them to step into it.
Chapter Three: Channel 99
The sun was just rising when the crew piled back into their van, silence hanging heavy between them. Avery gripped the steering wheel as if it were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.
“We need answers,” she said finally, her voice low. “We go back to Mallowridge. We find out where that channel is coming from.”
Elias exhaled sharply. “Or we run. Simple as that. If what we saw is real…” He didn’t finish the sentence. They all knew what came next.
Jax tapped furiously at his tablet. “I ran a simulation overnight. If the channel is showing the future, then what we saw isn’t fixed—it’s… like a preview. But maybe there’s a way to change it.”
Cole leaned back in his seat, arms crossed. “We’re talking about a TV that predicts deaths. How do you even change that?”
Maya’s eyes were wide, scanning the passing landscape. “By understanding it. By seeing how it works. Maybe there’s a pattern. Maybe—just maybe—we can intervene before the footage becomes reality.”
The old station greeted them like a mausoleum. The front doors groaned as they pushed inside. Dust motes floated in the morning light, and the smell of mildew clung to the walls. Nothing had changed… except for the television.
Channel 99 was waiting.
Jax approached cautiously. “Same spot. Same channel. No dial interference. This is… impossible.”
Avery knelt, her hands hovering over the screen. “It’s like it knows we’re coming. Like it wants us to see this.”
The screen flickered, then showed something that made their blood run cold.
Another future clip—but this one was of themselves. Not the clip from the motel. This was different. Subtle differences: Elias reaching for a door handle, Cole backing away from the shadows, Maya crouched behind overturned furniture. The footage was grainy, shaky, but unmistakable.
“Look,” Avery whispered. “That’s us… but not now. It’s… later. Something’s… wrong.”
Suddenly, the image shifted. Their future selves looked up. They weren’t aware of the camera… but their expressions were filled with terror. Jax noticed movement in the background—something shadowy, creeping closer to them.
“That… that’s not human,” he breathed.
Avery stood slowly. “Whatever is doing this… it’s not just showing us the future. It’s influencing it. Guiding it. Maybe even… controlling it.”
Elias frowned. “So we’re stuck. We either follow the channel, or we try to fight it. But if it’s controlling events, fighting it might…”
“…kill us sooner,” Avery finished.
Maya pointed at the screen. “Look at this. There’s a pattern in the footage. It’s like it’s rehearsing… each death, each movement. If we can anticipate it, maybe we can break the cycle.”
Cole swallowed hard. “And if we fail?”
Avery didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. They all knew. Failure wasn’t an option—not if they wanted to survive past October 31st.
The screen flickered one last time before going black. Static hummed in the room, filling the silence with an unrelenting, eerie energy.
And somewhere deep in the static, Avery thought she heard a whisper:
“Next episode… live.”
Chapter Four: The Countdown
October 29th. Two days before the date that haunted every screen they had ever seen.
The crew huddled in their makeshift command center—an old motel room cluttered with laptops, cameras, audio recorders, and stacks of notebooks filled with scribbles and diagrams. The glow from multiple screens cast eerie shadows on the walls.
Avery rubbed her temples, exhaustion lining her face. “We don’t have time. Every time we look away, every time we hesitate… Channel 99 keeps showing us more. We need a plan.”
Jax leaned back in his chair, tapping a key nervously. “I’ve been trying to trace the signal again. Frequency hopping, encrypted channels… nothing. It’s like it’s broadcasting from… nowhere. Or everywhere.”
Cole shook his head, gripping his camera like a weapon. “None of that matters. We saw it. It’s coming. We’re on the clock, and the clock isn’t on our side.”
Maya spread out her notes, pointing to the repeated symbols and locations in the previous clips. “There’s a pattern. Each haunting starts at a place tied to strong emotional energy—grief, fear, obsession. And it always escalates until someone dies. The channel doesn’t just show events. It predicts… accelerates them.”
Elias’s voice was flat, calm, but heavy with dread. “So the more we watch, the more we get dragged into it. And the closer we get to October 31st, the less time we have to react.”
Avery stood, pacing. “Then we have to test it. If the channel is showing the future, maybe we can interfere with the events. Force the timeline to break.”
Jax raised an eyebrow. “Interfere? Avery, you’re talking about defying death as a television program predicts it. That’s… insane.”
Avery shot him a hard look. “Then we die. I’m done waiting for a prediction to play out in real life. We fight. We survive.”
Cole exhaled, glancing at his teammates. “Alright. So step one: we go back to the station. Step two: we figure out what triggers these… broadcasts. Step three: we survive.”
The team nodded, each silently acknowledging the terrifying truth: whatever Channel 99 was, it wasn’t just showing them a story. They were now characters in it. And every decision they made could either save them—or write their deaths in the next episode.
Later that night, Avery sat alone, staring at the static-filled screen of a portable TV Jax had set up in the corner. The hum of electricity filled the room.
Then, without warning, a new clip appeared. It was them—running. The room was dark, shadows moving unnaturally around them. Cole tripped over a chair. Maya’s hand reached for a door handle that wasn’t there yet. Elias froze mid-step, eyes wide.
Avery’s voice shook. “That’s… tomorrow. This is what will happen tomorrow. We’re… trapped in it.”
The clip ended abruptly, the screen returning to static. But in the static, Avery swore she saw a shadowy figure staring back—watching them, patient, waiting for its next broadcast.
The countdown had begun.
Two days. Two days until the episode in which they would either survive—or die.
Chapter Five: Live Broadcast
October 30th. One day remained. The crew had barely slept, their minds haunted by the relentless images of Channel 99. Every sound in the motel—creaking pipes, the hum of a passing car—set their nerves on edge.
“We can’t wait any longer,” Avery said, voice tight. “If we’re going to break the cycle, we have to go back to the station tonight. That’s where it all started, and I think that’s where it ends.”
Elias shook his head. “It’s insane. That place—every corner is a death trap in the footage. But…” He hesitated. “…we don’t have another option.”
Jax adjusted his bag of gear, checking cables and cameras. “If Channel 99 shows the future, then it’s already predicting our moves. We need to stay unpredictable. Split up, avoid patterns, document everything.”
Cole hefted his camera. “I don’t like splitting up. Last time we did that, someone always ends up—”
“Dead?” Avery finished grimly. “Exactly. But staying together might not help either. We have to move carefully.”
Maya traced the locations from past episodes on a crumbling station map. “The footage shows the first attack happens near the control room. That’s where we start. Then it moves deeper into the station, following us.”
The old broadcasting station loomed before them, dark and foreboding. The front doors groaned as they pushed inside, dust motes swirling in the beam of their flashlights. The silence was almost physical, pressing against their chests.
Channel 99 was already waiting. The antique television flickered on as if powered by unseen hands.
The screen displayed them—alive, moving through the station—but the footage was different this time. It wasn’t a recording. It was a live feed.
Jax leaned closer, whispering, “That’s… impossible. No camera could be in that position.”
On the screen, shadows moved unnaturally around them. Figures that didn’t belong, creeping just out of view. Cole turned sharply, scanning the room. “I see them! They’re real!”
Avery grabbed his arm. “No. That’s the channel. It’s showing us… predicting us. Whatever it is, it can see us before we see it.”
Suddenly, a door slammed somewhere deep in the station. The sound echoed like a gunshot. The crew jumped, hearts pounding.
“Split up,” Avery said. “We have to force it. We have to do something it doesn’t expect.”
They moved cautiously, each member following a pre-planned route, checking corners, whispering warnings. Every hallway, every shadow, seemed alive, twisting and moving faster than their eyes could track.
Then, a figure lunged at Jax. Not human, its form flickering between shapes. He screamed, dropping his laptop as the figure vanished into static.
Cole raised his camera, filming, but the lens distorted the image, turning the intruder into a blur of black and white.
Avery grabbed Maya’s hand, pulling her toward the control room. “We have to reach it. If we can shut down the signal, maybe—maybe we can stop it!”
They stumbled through corridors, the sound of unseen footsteps following them, each breath ragged, each heartbeat deafening.
And then the screens all lit up at once. Hundreds of tiny monitors, all showing the same thing: their own terrified faces, in every angle imaginable, as if the station itself was filming them from within the walls.
A voice whispered through the static, low and chilling:
“Next episode: the final broadcast.”
Avery’s stomach dropped. “It’s here. Tonight. There’s no more time.”
Outside, the wind howled against the abandoned building. Inside, the crew realized a horrifying truth: Channel 99 wasn’t just predicting their deaths. It was orchestrating them.
Chapter Six: Static and Silence
October 31st. The final day.
The crew barely spoke as they moved through the Mallowridge Broadcasting Station, the building alive with unseen energy. Every step echoed too loud, every shadow seemed to stretch toward them. Their flashlights cut swaths of light through the thick dust, but they could feel the darkness moving around them.
“Stay close,” Avery whispered. “We follow the pattern. We avoid what we saw on the feed.”
Elias scanned the hallways, his hand on the door handle. “We’re fighting the inevitable. Whatever this channel is… it’s not human. It doesn’t follow rules we know.”
Jax carried his recorder like a shield. “I’ve been trying to disrupt the signal with white noise, interference… anything. It doesn’t work. It’s like the channel feeds on us being alive.”
Cole’s camera lens shook slightly in his hands. “We’re walking into our own deaths. I can feel it.”
Maya pointed toward the control room. “There. That’s where the first clip ends. That’s where it begins.”
They entered the control room. The air was thick, almost viscous, charged with static electricity. The antique television in the corner flickered on, displaying a live feed. But this time… it wasn’t just them.
Figures lurked in the corners of the screens, shadows twisting impossibly. Their movements were jerky, unnatural, as if the building itself were alive.
Suddenly, the room went black. The TV went dead. Every screen in the control room went dark. Then—lightning flashed through the building. A shriek echoed, long and inhuman.
Cole swung his camera, trying to capture what he saw. But the lens only showed static. A shadow leapt from the corner of the room toward him. He screamed as it collided with him, sending him crashing into the wall.
“Cole!” Avery lunged toward him, but the figure disappeared, leaving only static in the TV and a chilling silence.
Maya gasped, pointing at the monitor. “It’s… it’s showing us what’s happening before it happens!”
Another scream echoed—this time from the hallway. Elias ran, following the sound, only to vanish into the darkness. His last words, muffled and panicked, were: “It’s… everywhere…”
Avery, Maya, and Jax huddled together. “We can’t run,” Avery said, shaking. “We have to fight it—or we die.”
Then the TV flickered again, showing the three of them, trapped, their own terrified faces staring back. The static hummed, a low, menacing sound that reverberated in their chests.
Avery realized the horrifying truth: Channel 99 wasn’t just predicting their deaths—it was feeding on their fear, rewriting reality around them, and controlling the timeline. Every step, every heartbeat, every decision had been anticipated.
The shadows in the corners began to move closer. The temperature dropped. Frost formed on the edges of the monitors. And then, as if the building exhaled, the static coalesced into a single, jagged form—a figure taller than any of them, its face impossible to look at.
Avery gripped Maya’s hand. “We survive this—together. Or we’re gone.”
But deep down, she knew the truth: the final broadcast was about to begin, and nobody was guaranteed to survive Channel 99.
Chapter Seven: Possession
The control room trembled as if the building itself were alive, breathing. Static hissed from the antique television in the corner, and the monitors lining the walls flickered with distorted images of the crew—their own terrified faces, but not exactly their own.
Avery’s stomach twisted. “It’s not just showing us. It’s… putting us in it. Forcing it.”
Jax tightened his grip on his equipment. “Whatever it is, it’s learning. Every move we make, every scream, every hesitation—it feeds it.”
Suddenly, Cole screamed. His camera fell to the floor, its lens pointing toward him. He was convulsing, eyes rolling back, hands clawing at the air as though invisible fingers were inside him.
“Cole!” Avery shouted, running toward him, but the moment she touched him, his body jerked violently and slammed into the wall.
Maya grabbed his arm. “He’s… possessed!”
From the static-filled monitors, the shadowy figure loomed larger, twisting and multiplying. It darted from screen to screen, merging with their reflections, whispering in voices that weren’t their own.
Avery felt it brush against her mind—an icy, invasive presence. Images flashed in her head: Channel 99 clips, her own death, Elias being dragged into darkness, Maya screaming. Her psychic gift had always been a gift. Now it was a curse. The entity was using it against her.
“We have to fight it in here!” Avery shouted. “If it possesses one of us outside, we’re done for!”
Jax scrambled to attach a device to the TV, hoping to jam the signal. Sparks flew, and the screens went black for a second—just long enough for the shadow to vanish from Cole’s body.
Cole collapsed to the floor, gasping, his eyes returning to normal. But the relief was brief. Across the room, Elias convulsed violently, his face twisted, his voice no longer his own.
Avery stepped forward, extending her hands. “I can reach him! I can push it back!”
The psychic energy within her flared, a blinding white light emanating from her chest. She chanted fragments of protective incantations she had never spoken aloud. The shadow recoiled, shrieking, writhing, then slammed against the monitors, making them shatter in sparks and smoke.
Elias fell silent, slumping into her arms. Avery’s breathing was ragged. The entity wasn’t gone. Not yet.
The TV flickered one last time. On the screen, their faces stared back—not alive, not dead, but trapped. A single line appeared in red text:
“The final episode begins.”
Avery’s voice trembled. “It’s still controlling the narrative. It wants an ending—and it wants it tonight.”
Outside, the wind howled through the broken windows. Inside, the crew realized a terrible truth: Channel 99 wasn’t just a channel. It was a living story—and they were its prey.
Chapter Eight: The Heart of the Channel
The station had become a labyrinth of darkness and static. Every corridor seemed longer than it should be, every doorway leading to another impossibly warped hallway. The monitors in the control room had shattered, but the TV in the corner still glowed, flickering with images of their own future deaths.
Avery tightened her grip on the flashlight, its beam cutting through the gloom like a knife. “We have to go to the source,” she said, her voice trembling but determined. “The heart of Channel 99. Whatever it is, it’s here—and if we destroy it, maybe we can stop this.”
Jax adjusted his bag, stuffing wires and devices into it. “I’ve been tracking the signal with portable receivers. It’s strongest in the old broadcast vault beneath the station. That’s where the entity is anchored.”
Cole hefted his camera. “Great. A basement full of death and shadows. Sounds like my kind of nightmare.”
Maya shivered, glancing at the flickering TV. “The entity is feeding on fear, anticipation, and now our attempts to resist. If we hesitate or panic, it grows stronger.”
Elias ran a hand over his face. “Then we don’t hesitate. We move fast. And we move together.”
The stairwell to the basement groaned as they descended. The air grew cold, thick with the metallic tang of old wiring and decay. Their flashlights flickered. Shadows slithered along the walls, following them, but never fully visible.
At the bottom, a vast vault stretched before them. Banks of old broadcasting equipment were still humming, despite decades of disuse. The air vibrated with static.
In the center, the antique television floated, suspended in the air by unseen force. Its screen glowed bright, showing a single scene: the crew—already dead, reenacting their final moments in slow motion.
Avery swallowed hard. “This… this is it. This is the heart of the channel.”
Suddenly, the shadowy figure emerged from the TV, stepping into the room with impossible fluidity. It was taller than any of them, its face flickering like broken film, body twisting in ways that defied physics.
“It’s alive,” Jax whispered. “Or… it thinks it’s alive.”
Avery stepped forward, summoning every ounce of psychic strength she had. “We are not your story!” she shouted, letting energy flare from her hands. The air shimmered, and the figure recoiled, but it struck back with whispers, voices mimicking the crew, taunting them, luring them into fear.
Cole swung his camera, throwing light across the entity. For a moment, it flinched. Maya ripped cables from the old broadcasting racks, using them like a whip, slashing at the shadows and breaking some of the entity’s tethered connections.
Elias grabbed Jax’s shoulder. “The signal—the TVs—it’s a conduit. If we destroy the source, we break the feed.”
Together, they moved toward the suspended television. Avery focused, channeling her psychic energy while Jax and Maya rigged an improvised EMP from old circuits and batteries.
The TV flickered violently, the shadows screaming in static and light. The entity thrashed, trying to maintain control, pulling at their minds, tempting them to give in to terror.
Avery’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. “We are not yours!”
Jax activated the device. Sparks flew. The screens went white. A deafening hum filled the room as light and shadow collided. The entity shrieked, twisting, dissolving into static that poured into the floor, walls, and ceiling.
Then silence.
The antique television crashed to the floor, shattered. The air cleared. The oppressive chill lifted.
For the first time in three days, the crew could breathe.
But in the deepest static of the shattered screens, Avery glimpsed a single flicker—just a shadow, watching, patient, waiting.
And she knew: Channel 99 was gone… for now.
Chapter Nine: Aftermath
The sun rose over Mallowridge like it had no memory of the horrors that had unfolded overnight. The crew stumbled out of the station, blinking in the sudden light, each carrying the weight of what they had just survived.
Cole slumped against the van, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “We… we did it. It’s over, right?”
Avery shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so. Channel 99 is gone… but it left something behind. It always does. Whatever feeds on fear like that… it doesn’t just vanish.”
Maya surveyed the shattered windows and broken equipment. “The entity’s gone, but the station—its energy—is still… charged. Like a wound that hasn’t healed.”
Jax fiddled with his gear, scanning frequencies. “The signal’s gone. No more live feed. But I can still pick up weak traces… echoes. Residual energy. It’s faint, but it’s there.”
Elias ran a hand over his face, exhaustion finally catching up with him. “We survived, but barely. I don’t think anyone outside this crew would believe it. And the footage… the channel… it’ll keep tempting someone else eventually.”
Avery stood, looking at the station one last time. “We need to make sure this doesn’t happen again. Document everything, warn others. And… maybe prepare for the next time it surfaces.”
Cole groaned. “Next time? You mean there’s a sequel to this nightmare?”
Maya nodded grimly. “Static like that doesn’t die. It just waits. And it remembers.”
Jax looked at the group, a wry smile barely forming. “Well… at least we made it through the first season. And let’s be honest—Channel 99 is probably still recording… our survival for someone else to see.”
Avery swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling the psychic residue still humming in her chest. “We survived… but the fear, the memories… they don’t leave us. Not really.”
The crew drove away from the station, the broken silhouette of Mallowridge Broadcasting Station receding behind them. The wind rustled through the trees, carrying a whisper they could almost hear:
“Next episode… coming soon.”
Even as they tried to laugh, to shake the tension from their bodies, they knew the truth. Channel 99 had survived in the shadows, patient and hungry, waiting for the next viewers—next victims—to step in front of the screen.
And somewhere deep in the static, it was already planning.
Chapter Ten: Final Frame
October 31st—nightfall.
The crew had returned home, exhausted, bruised, and emotionally frayed. The adrenaline from the battle at the station had worn off, leaving them hollow and shaken. They tried to convince themselves it was over, that Channel 99 had been destroyed.
But the moment Avery stepped into her apartment, she felt it—the lingering static in the air, a soft hum beneath her skin.
Jax was the first to notice it. His laptop flickered, screens turning black and white before returning to normal. “No signal… no… wait.” He froze, staring at the monitor.
Avery walked over. On the screen, a single frame had appeared: their faces, watching themselves as if recorded through invisible cameras. The timestamp blinked: October 31st, 11:59 PM.
Elias’s voice cracked. “It’s not done. It’s never done.”
Maya’s hands trembled as she pointed to the screen. “It’s showing the final frame. But it’s not us—yet. It’s waiting… for what comes next.”
Cole swallowed, his usual sarcasm gone. “So… what? We survived the station, we thought we were free, and now it’s… here?”
Avery’s eyes narrowed, scanning the room. The psychic residue in her chest flared again. The entity wasn’t visible, but it was present, hovering just out of sight, feeding off the fear that still lingered in them.
Then the TV flickered again. This time, it showed them entering the station—but in reverse, as if the footage was rewinding. Their past selves screamed, tripped, and froze in terror. And in the corner of every frame, a faint shadow lingered—watching, waiting.
Jax whispered, voice tight. “It’s… it’s replaying history. And we’re the audience.”
Avery clenched her fists. “No. We’re the survivors. And we’re going to make it through this… somehow.”
The TV went black. Silence returned—but Avery, Elias, Maya, Cole, and Jax knew it was only temporary. Channel 99 didn’t die. It paused, it waited, and it always returned for the next broadcast.
Outside, the city slept. Inside, the crew sat together, staring at the darkened screens, knowing that somewhere, in the static, Channel 99 was still alive—patient, hungry, and recording.
Avery finally whispered, almost to herself:
“Some stories never end… and some channels never stop.”
The camera pans to a dark corner, faint static shimmering. A shadowy figure flickers—almost imperceptibly—but it’s there. Watching. Waiting.
The final frame fades… but the broadcast continues.
Epilogue: Endless Broadcast
Weeks had passed since the night at Mallowridge Broadcasting Station. The crew had returned to their lives, but nothing felt normal. Avery still felt the psychic residue humming faintly beneath her skin, a constant reminder of the entity that had haunted them.
Jax spent hours scanning frequencies, trying to detect any remaining traces of Channel 99. Every scan came back empty—but he refused to believe it was truly gone. “It’s patient,” he told the group. “It’s always patient. It doesn’t just vanish. It waits for the next audience.”
Elias tried to go back to work, Maya resumed her research, Cole picked up his camera, and Avery… Avery couldn’t stop watching the static on old screens, half-expecting the next episode to begin at any moment.
One evening, as Avery cleaned the lenses of her own camera, her phone buzzed. A notification appeared—a video file, sent from an unknown number.
Hesitant, she opened it. The video was grainy. Static filled the edges. But the image at the center made her blood run cold.
It was them—alive—preparing to investigate an abandoned location. But the timestamp blinked months in the future, and in the corner, barely visible, was a shadow, flickering, patient, and familiar.
Avery dropped the phone. Her heart pounded. “It’s not over,” she whispered.
Jax’s voice came from the other room. “It never is. Channel 99 isn’t a place. It’s a story. And stories… never die.”
Maya nodded, voice quiet but certain. “It’s waiting. For the next crew, the next victims… maybe even us again.”
Cole sighed, gripping his camera. “Great. So we survived… for now. And next time, we’re the rerun.”
The screens in the room flickered. For a heartbeat, the static coalesced into a single image—a blackened figure staring back, eyes glowing faintly, voice echoing in the room, though no one spoke:
“Next episode… live.”
Avery swallowed. She knew the truth. Channel 99 would always return, patiently, watching, recording, rewriting reality for whoever dared to watch.
And somewhere, in the endless hum of static, the broadcast continued—forever.
The End