My Old Valve Radio Started Broadcasting Tomorrow's Tragedies at Midnight &When I Tried to Change One

For weeks my old valve radio has been broadcasting tomorrow’s headlines exactly twenty-four hours early. Floods, terrorist attacks, celebrity deaths—all verified the next day. The voice never identifies the station, just delivers the news in flat, emotionless tones. I kept it secret until the reports started naming people I know. My boss’s suicide. My best friend’s car crash. Both happened precisely as described. I destroyed three radios trying to stop it. Each time a new one appeared on my shelf by morning. Last night the broadcast was shorter than usual. Only one story. “Mass casualty event tomorrow evening in downtown Central Plaza. Authorities report a lone gunman opening fire at 7:30 PM. Death toll expected to exceed thirty.” No names yet. I called in tips, evacuated the area anonymously, did everything I could. The plaza was empty tonight, cordoned off, heavily policed. Nothing happened. For the first time the radio was wrong. Relief washed over me. At midnight it crackled again. The voice returned, almost amused. “Correction. Location error in previous bulletin. Shooting occurred at private residence on Maple Lane. Single victim. Self-inflicted.” My address. I don’t own a gun. I searched the house—nothing. The voice continued. “In other news, authorities discover body of local man who had been receiving advance reports of future tragedies. Ruled suicide.” I’m holding the radio now. It’s warm. The final line just came through. “This concludes our broadcast schedule. Thank you for listening.” The power light went out. But I can hear faint breathing inside the speaker. My breathing. The barrel is cold against my temple though my hands are empty. The clock strikes 12:01 AM. Tomorrow’s news is happening now. This is the full valve radio recordings from every midnight broadcast + matching news clips of predicted events + personal reports verification + mass casualty prevention attempt + tonight's correction broadcast + final “thank you for listening” line + faint breathing speaker close-up before the signal died forever. If your old radio ever starts clearing static at midnight to deliver calm news bulletins about events that happen exactly 24 hours later… unplug it before it corrects itself.