The So, I'm Dan Cummins and I'll be sharing one original short story of the horror variety, just not true horror.

If you'd like to really immerse yourself in this story, I highly recommend noise cancellation headphones for the best experience.

Now, here we go. No announcements, no

segments, no conversation, just a new nightmare. Time now for the tale of 117 AM.

Wednesday, March 23rd, 117 AM muffled screaming.

A minute or so after first hearing it emanating from his living room.

Marty Romano is staring at the large couch he botched a few months back.

His on-again-off-again girlfriend, Soma, sits on it.

Don't you want to know what's underneath, baby?

What's making that noise?

She asks.

Marty's been doing his damnedest to ignore the noise. He's been ignoring this noise and other noises.

For how long now? Four, five nights, a week.

She can't remember exactly. Life has been a bit of a blur of late. He hasn't been sleeping well.

Soma asks,

Don't you think you should at least look, Marty? There's nothing to look at.

I don't hear it, Marty snapped.

There's nothing there, Soma.

Marty lies to himself again.

He's been doing that a lot lately.

He definitely hears it. He hears it all and it scares him. He doesn't want to think too

deeply about what it all might mean. The muffled screaming, the sounds that always follow of what sure

...