Radio Play Script Novels & Stories

3, Atholl Esplanade. As they propelled down Atholl Esplanade - past a few rusty streetlamps, in the warm restrictions of the car that failed to protect them from the blisteing morning sun, Eallric turned on the radio and tuned it to Vintage Inspiration - 97.3 FM, for his daily dosage of pristine Rock 'n' Roll but was met with something else. Something that caused Gerey to raise a brow at Eallric. The loud speakers of the 404; linked to the Radio weren't chanting an old ballad or ditty, neither was a pop music or jazz booming out of the speakers, no, the solemn, low-pitched voice of a broadcaster were emanating and it said,

* Ravyn's stomach dropped at the sight of it, the specific cold understanding that whatever time she'd estimated in the chaos of the last few minutes had already been generous. She picked up the small personal radio clipped to the technician's station — disconnected from the main broadcast channel, she confirmed with one fast glance at its display — and held it close enough to speak without raising her voice. "Dante," she said. "I'm in. Talk to me. How are you." His voice came back thin through the static, breathless with effort, the engine roar audible even through the line. "Driving. One lap left after this one. Whatever you're doing, do it fast."

It would be nice to have instructions for such a case. “I have no idea.” Reed frowned again and sank into his own thoughts. He did not want to share them with me. And I still felt constrained when talking with him. The only thing I decided to do was turn on the radio. It was inconvenient to spin for a long time, so I stopped on the wave of Newtown Radio and calmed down.

She lay on her side, her teeth grinding together so hard they clicked, trying to keep her open wounds from touching the grime of the floor. Outside the rusted iron bars of her cell, a small transistor radio crackled to life on the guard's table. Static buzzed, followed by the booming, polished voice of the regional pack network announcer. Turn that up, Jace, a second guard muttered, his boots scraping against the concrete. The broadcast from the capital is starting. Yeah, hold on, Jace replied, the dial clicking as the audio cleared.

“Then Adrian Cole will not survive the week.” The words sliced through her like ice. Adrian reached for her hand, squeezing it once, firm and steady. Nora’s breath trembled, but her resolve hardened. “You think threatening him will make me surrender,” she said. “It will not.” The man sighed, almost regretful. “Then perhaps you will reconsider after tonight’s broadcast.” “What broadcast?” The line went silent. At the same moment, Adrian’s dashboard screen lit up with an emergency alert. Live press conference scheduled. Vaughn Industries CEO statement in thirty minutes.

Farther down, a radio played too loudly, cutting through the city hum. Scott held the door while she tucked the brochure into her bag. “So,” he said, voice calm, low, neutral, “weekday.” Freeda squinted at the sun. “Weekday.” “No crowd.” “No crowd.” “No speeches.” She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Definitely no speeches.” His mouth twitched, half a smile, half regret. “That hurts.” A violin began to play. Not a busker, not someone passing by. Too precise. Too clean. Too timed.

I turned the radio on as loud as it can so that it can cover our conversations just in case someone is listening to us. “Pack your things because we will leave,” I said. She is looking at me and I know there’s a lot of questions in her mind with the Unchained melody from Righteous Brothers, A serene and romantic song playing on the radio opposite of what I feel right now because my heart and mind is in chaos and I feel like I will explode anytime if I will not stop this. She looked at me. I wondered and asked, “What’s going on?”

-If I could I would do it. It's so magical how everything happened, in our love, our sweet love. And then some music starts playing on the radio. Cool. What karma. It's so easy that nothing surprises me anymore, in our love, that incredible love. “ Change the radio,” I tell Gadreel. I didn't want romantic music that reminded me of Kayler Brown. Gadreel chuckles a bit as, instead of turning it off, he turns it up. -What do you do?

After a few seconds, he finally said it, “Can you be the co-host of my radio show?” Eleanor’s surprise was well expressed as her eyes went wide and she leaned forward her eyebrows knitted and mouth gaped open, “Your WHAT?” Roth cleared his throat and said silently, “I hosted a radio show with Tristan,” She could see a shadow of the past flashing on his face saying Tristan’s name. It airs on Friday…” Her eyes became the size of saucers as she exclaimed, “Wait - are you talking about The Sex Doctor show?” Roth looked taken aback, “You listen to it?” Eleanor was the last person anyone could’ve expected to listen to that.

Without dwelling on it, I headed straight to my room. Engaging in some advanced reading for school, I still couldn't find solace for a peaceful night's sleep. Seeking comfort from my favorite artist, I turned on the radio, patiently waiting for soothing melodies to fill the room. To my dismay, there was only silence. A small announcement then echoed from the radio station. "Good evening, everyone. I regret to inform you that tonight's show will be canceled. Thank you for your ongoing support, and hopefully, the Midnight Wolf will be back to share his lovely music with us again soon."