This story is my contribution to the collaborative writing project, Unquiet World,
hosted by .
I loved the setup for the Unquiet world, and tried to stay within the key criteria. Hope you enjoy this short told in music. Don’t forget to check out the Spotify playlist. The story starts below the Spotify player.
The first flakes of December had started to come down. The lights of Times Square in the distance reflected on both the clouds and the snowflakes blanketing the city.
Ray watched it through the studio glass, lost in the mood, when the red ON AIR bulb flickered back to life. Reflex took over, he slid into the chair, and pressed the mic switch as ‘Sweet Emotion’ faded out.
Sweeeet emoooo-tion.
Sweeeet emoooo-tion.
“This is The Night Show with Ray Delaney on WQNY 95.5. That was Aerosmith’s Sweet Emotion, more than twenty years old already. Time flies, right? Unlike the music video, I’m just a guy with glasses, a caffeine habit, and a sister. More importantly, the lines are open, so tell me what’s keeping you up tonight.”
The button for LINE TWO blinked yellow, and Ray hit it with practiced ease.
“Hey there, late shifter, you’re on the air with Ray. I’m listening.”
“Hey Ray, Carmine here, huge fan. I listen every night.”
“Thank you, Carmine. What do you have for us?”
“So, you know, with the snow coming in, we’re taking the salt trucks out. Usually, people stay in, so imagine my surprise when I saw this group of geezers. I swear to God, Ray, these people walkin’ around looking like extras from Tron. All shiny coats, pants glued to their legs, laughing into little mirrors.
“Carmine, are you calling me about fashion advice?”
“Ray, listen. That was just the beginning of it. They step into this car without a driver. Like all three just sat in the back and the car took off without a driver, like Kitt from Knight Rider.
“Carmine…”
“Ray, I’m telling you, the weirdest thing about it? No tracks in the snow. You tell me if that’s normal.”
“Maybe it’s new visual effects? Is Michael Bay in town? We’ve had some wild stuff coming to us from Hollywood this year, asteroids blowing up, cities shaking. Anyway, thank you for the story, Carmine, and keep it safe out there tonight!”
“Thank you, Ray!”
“Speaking of new technology and visual effects. I’ve got the hottest record ever made for you guys, urging you all to stay on your toes. Here’s Ready or Not by the Fugees.
Ray dropped the needle. Crackles, the ethereal synths, and then the unmistakable voice of Lauryn Hill.
More lights blinked on the phone. “Busy night,” he muttered.
Ready or not (uh-huh), here I come, you can’t hide.
Gonna find you and make you want me.
The song neared the end and slowly faded out. Ray rolled his shoulders and hit the switch to LINE FOUR.
“I’m Ray Delaney, keeping all you night owls company till sunrise. The lines are open. Tell me what’s on your mind. Who’s on?”
“Hi Ray, this is Angela.”
“Angela, like Angel. What holy or unholy story do you have for us at this nightly hour?”
“Yeah, I don’t know, Ray. I kind of felt like a movie star today.”
“Are you into acting, Angela? Are you going to be the new Cameron Diaz or the new Neve Campbell?”
“Oh, I wish, Ray.”
“What made you feel that way, Angela?”
“Well, I thought I’d rent a film. On my way back this group, I kid you not, were all raising these glowing rectangles with flashlights. Constant flashes everywhere.”
Ray frowned. “Some new camcorder craze?”
“Ray, it was really weird, I kinda just went home, didn’t want to be neutralized like Men in Black.”
“Thank you for your story, Angela. This made me think. How about a song to warm us up a bit? Here are the Googoo Dolls with Iris.”
And I’d give up forever to touch you
‘Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You’re the closest to Heaven that I’ll ever be…
Ray murmured the lyrics without thinking, but his voice slipped away when he saw her. There, on the other side of the glass, stood Mara. His beautiful Mara.
Her hair was different, shorter maybe, a few pale strands catching the light. She looked tired, the kind of tired you don’t just sleep off on a long weekend.
“Are you okay?” he mouthed, rushing to the door. Locked. He pressed his hand to the glass. She mirrored it, but pulled back quickly as if the cold surprised her.
Her breath clouded the glass. With one trembling finger, she wrote:
‘I missed you so much.’
A brass plaque behind her caught the booth’s light:
‘In loving memory of our late night DJ Ray Delaney, December 21, 1998.’
The VU needles eased to zero, their orange glow dimmed, and the hum of the amp thinned. Only the crackle and scratching of the record now filled the booth.
Ray felt hollow, translucent maybe, and for a moment, certain he didn’t belong here.
And I don’t want the world to see me…
Because I don’t think that they’d understand…
Author’s note.
I loved the Unquiet World prompt and wanted to explore what this strangeness might feel like for one of the ghosts, not in some grand world-shaking spectacle but for an ordinary man just doing his job. I wanted ‘The Listener’ to be about one of the most human of feelings one can experience, the heartache of losing someone you love, though I hope the music did most of the exposition.
The picture for the playlist cover was taken back in 2021 on a cold, snowy evening. Thought it might be cool to make it look like an album cover from the late 90s.
Great! I enjoyed it very much and took the time to subscribe to your substack. I'll be coming back for more. (On another note, the inclusion of the music lyrics on your text has unblocked me to also write something for Unquiet World. I've been going around for a couple of days with no idea of what to write. Listening to Bach and reading your story did it). Have a great day. Congrats!
This was haunting in a beautiful way. I love how you juxtaposed mundane interactions with the weight of loss. Also, I feel nostalgic for the radio. As a Gen Z, I don't think I ever experienced really talking to someone on radio channels. Well done.