Midnight Archive: The Signal from Nowhere
- MELISA KENNEDY
- Jun 2
- 2 min read
Updated: 4 days ago
This is a FREE Preview of our Midnight Archive, where subscribers have access to inside our mysterious library where our haunted artifacts have a story to tell.
"Step into the Midnight Archive, a library of chilling ParaHouse creepypastas. Read free now through June's Friday the 13th, then join the Archive to unlock full tales like ‘The Bone Circle,’ the inspiration for our upcoming Harvest Moon Binding Ritual!”
~ Melisa Kennedy
The radio in my attic hadn’t worked in years. It was a dusty relic from my grandpa, its dials stuck, its speaker silent. But last Tuesday, at exactly 3:33AM, it crackled to life.
I froze in bed, the static hissing like whispers in a crowded room. My phone was dead—no power, no Wi-Fi—but the radio kept going, spitting out a voice, low and mechanical, reciting numbers: “47.8923, -122.3047. Arrival imminent.”
I stumbled upstairs to the attic, heart pounding. The attic was freezing, the air thick with that metallic smell you get before a storm. The radio’s dial glowed faintly, spinning on its own. I grabbed a pen, scribbling the coordinates. They pointed to a field ten miles from my house, a nowhere patch of dirt outside town. The voice stopped, replaced by a hum that made my teeth ache, like something was pressing against my skull.
I didn’t sleep. By dawn, I was in my truck, driving to the coordinates. The field was empty, just dead grass and a rusted tractor. But the ground felt wrong—soft, like it was breathing. My phone, now working, wouldn’t take photos; the screen glitched with streaks of green. Then I saw it: a perfect circle burned into the earth, thirty feet wide, the grass inside curling inward like it was reaching for something.
I posted about it on X and Instagram, expecting nothing. Within hours, two strangers replied with photos—identical circles in fields across the country, all dated the same night. One user actually DM’d me coordinates matching my attic signal. They led to an abandoned observatory nearby. I went yesterday. The place was gutted, but a single monitor flickered, showing static—and my face, staring back, though I’d never been there.
Now the radio’s on again, every night at 3:33AM. New coordinates. New voices. They know my name. I haven’t told anyone where I’m going next.
If you hear a signal, don’t listen. It’s not for you.
Have you ever heard a radio turn on by itself? Check your attic tonight… and comment below or post it on socials with #ParaHousePasta and we will find you!
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