Ever flipped channels on an old TV? You know, the one that grumbled and hissed when it could find no signal? Imagine, for a second, that those static bursts were words, secrets whispered in a tongue not human. Local stations broadcast nothing, but the abyssal noise has its own frequency.
Here’s a thought: what if among the crackles you caught a name, a place... interdit? A slip of paper found in a vault never meant to be opened? Maybe it's a hint to something bigger, a riddle carved by time’s hand, lost in the noise. Sounds like fiction smashed into reality, doesn’t it? But hey, who are we to argue with the whispers of the void?
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