The radio crackled in the void of sleepy realizations, caught between a dream and the tang of reality undoing its woven secrets. A melody impalpable, spoke in vibrations odd and celestial.
"When the night throws open its secrets," the static murmured, as if conscripting the listener into an unholy kinship with the stars, "only those attuned to the whispers beneath will recall the fragments."
On a night plunged into unearthly stillness, Alice adjusted her dial. The signal flickered between coherent harmonies and ghostly echoes. Words devoid of context crystallized in her mind: "The phoenix rises in reverse..."
Songs of bygone epochs, replayed through the cosmos like haunted choirs calling for redemption. She scribbled furiously, her paper dancing with notes that no hand had purportedly touched, as if sung by angels bound to radio waves.