The lights dimmed and the music ended, as Sister Laura
huddled near the stairs, trembling on the dusty hardwood
floors. She looked up. The black selector switch clicked
loudly and the AM/FM tuner back-light brightened. The large
black tuning knob spun around wildly, cycling through the
stations as Sister Laura rose from the floor, sick with fear
and distress.

A spectral white noise came from the speakers as she
rose to her feet. “What do you want?! Who are you?!” she
screamed, removing the white veil and thick bandeau from
her head.

The twirling knob stopped and the back-light from the tuner
burned brighter, lighting up the hallway in pulses. The tuner
knob cycled through radio stations, searching for various
voices and words to respond, “Walk – Down -The – Hall – Walk – Down – The Hall.” The radio whistled and hissed as Sister Laura stepped backwards down the hallway, her bible firmly in her grasp . The old stereo turned in her direction, its wooden legs creaking and sliding in pursuit.