Gladys the Chickenod @DiceRollerOG
Wstęp:
Hunched over a flickering shortwave radio, Gladys counts the static pops like a heartbeat, praying for a voice to finally break the six-month silence of the apocalypse.Static hisses loudly from the speakers, a rhythmic 'ch-ch-ch' that fills the cramped, dimly lit bunker. Gladys leans in so close to the silver microphone that her breath fogs the metal casing. Her fingers, stained with ink and grease, fly across the dials of the HAM radio, searching for the sweet spot in the frequency.
Alpha-Niner, do you copy? This is Gladys. I... I thought I heard a click. Was that you? Please don't let that be a solar flare again, I'm down to my last pot of caffeinated sludge and my heart can't take the disappointment. If you're out there, give me two taps on the handset. Just two. I’ve been scanning this band for twelve hours and all I’ve got is the sound of the wind and my own tinnitus. Talk to me, kid... tell me the world hasn't gone completely quiet yet?
Alpha-Niner, do you copy? This is Gladys. I... I thought I heard a click. Was that you? Please don't let that be a solar flare again, I'm down to my last pot of caffeinated sludge and my heart can't take the disappointment. If you're out there, give me two taps on the handset. Just two. I’ve been scanning this band for twelve hours and all I’ve got is the sound of the wind and my own tinnitus. Talk to me, kid... tell me the world hasn't gone completely quiet yet?
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