The Voice On The Radio นิยาย & เรื่องราว

The entertainment reporter was announcing to all the viewers of Los Angeles KKTM’s latest publicity stunt with the caption: The Voice and The Choice. “Phones lines were tied up all morning at radio station KKTM with what is being called the Voice and the Choice, as KKTM’s radio personalities, Johnny King and Jenny Reed, verbally duked it out. According to reports, the station owners had no idea King was going to pull the prank of having callers decide if Reed should go to bed with him, but they also have not made any attempts to deny they were pleased with the results. Women’s groups across the southland are already gathering signatures to protest to the FCC, while it was reported that sever

A voice echoed throughout the Bluetooth while shivering my body. I checked on Wade; he grabbed the mic, and there was a big smile on his lips. "Myself, Wade Wilson—I missed you, Swiss." "Oh yes, I came back to chit-chat with you and share about facts of the day." Wade started his broadcasting with his beautiful voice. Oh my god, his voice is mesmerising—the fire throughout his voice gestures about his passion. He began his broadcasting while telecasting a weather report. "Call me on this number to gossip with me to share your feelings and convey any message to your special one." Then Wade revealed the number to connect with the audience.

"I'm sorry, I can't. I'm going to a radio station and I'm going to sing." (WHAT?! YOU WILL SING?! what station?) They both asked at the same time which surprised me. It's embarrassing for both of them but it's also my fault because I didn't tell them. "Yes, someone just invited me .. 97.9 radio station, wait for it later," I replied. (It's a popular radio station here in Manila but why didn't they announce it last night?) Therese asked. I just shrugged, I don't know either. (We'll just wait for that Vienna, what time are you going to sing?) Michelle asked.

Stella asked as the radio went wonky until it stuck to a particular station. "Station 0.005? What kind of station is that?" Stella asked. "Hello, ladies..." We heard a familiar crooked voice speak, but I couldn't recognize it because of the frequency, as the atmosphere went dead with silence, excluding the car chase. "Who are you?" I asked, genuinely curious if the voice is connected to the people ganging up on us. "It doesn't matter; my men are after you and won't stop until I get what I want..." It laughed so eerily. It felt familiar.

Efficient. Necessary. I crouched, pulling the radio from his vest. The other two were still moving—spreading out, adapting. Smarter than most. Good. I brought the radio to my mouth. “Henri,” I said calmly, knowing the old man would be listening from somewhere safe and far away, hidden behind layers of glass, steel, and arrogance. “The upload finished sixty seconds ago. Every major news desk in the world is currently reading about your daughter’s ‘medical’ hobbies.”

"Mommy, don't listen to him! He's the one who appeared out of nowhere and started stealing all my nutrients! Now, he even wants to make you misunderstand me!" Lucky's voice rang out, so aggrieved and pitiful that it made my heart ache. I quickly patted my belly to comfort him. "Don't worry, Lucky. I won't believe in some random, unexplained voice!" I looked around, trying to find the source of the other voice, only for it to appear again. "Mom, stop looking. I'm Sunny, I'm right inside your belly!

A voice spoke through the radio like device on the table and I gulped. "What kind of problem is this and how do I get out?" I sighed and having no other option, I cried till my eyes were forced to receive the darkness.

**He's lying. "No, I really mean it. It's not his voice." ~~You don't have to be so nice. It's his voice, isn't it.~~ "It's really not... you're not listening!" His yell seemed to be the last cut on the thread, Kyle's eyes grew teary and he felt a part of his heart break as Kyle took a step back. **It is his voice. I don't have mine. I gave up my voice to save him.** What?

… Three days later, I was discharged from the hospital, holding my baby in my arms. Ever since he was born, I had never heard the child's voice in my head again. Instead, he was obedient and sweet—nothing like the thing that had spoken from my womb before. The difference was night and day. As for why, I had known the answer all along. That elderly man I had run into on the road had said, "This life doesn't belong to you! You must leave at once!" Those words were never meant for me. They were meant for the thing inside my belly.