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it's 2 am, and you can't sleep. Too hot.
infront of the TV you plop yourself, and with it's quietest level of volume, enjoy an infomercial about miraculous kitchen knives, punctuated by seedy ads for 1-900 numbers. Just as you begin to wonder if you maybe really DO need these knives in your life, the program ends abruptly, thank you for watching.
you wait, expectant of a commercial or a bumper, thinking this is one of those "oops, the guy switching the tapes must be getting coffee" moments.
...but now, it's a few long seconds past the comfortable zone, and you're noticing how awkwardly long this blank pause is, just a black screen with nothing. You become aware of how dark your living room is, how the flashing LED of your stove clock reflects eerily off of your black, uncovered windows. You turn around to see the time that isn't mirrored, and suddenly the room illuminates from behind your head with a piercingly loud 1400hz tone.
You twist back to your now brightly lit up television set.
on it sits a blank test card of a little girl and her clown toy with an old, 80s-era text overlay in yellow,
>This concludes our broadcasting day. Please join us at 6:00am for the Morning Hour.
you instinctively mash your volume button, to no avail. You scramble with your controller, which suddenly slips out of your hands onto the floor. You're trying not to get the eeriness of the situation get to you, and, controller in hand, glance up at the television again.
The text is gone.
But the girl is no longer staring vaguely towards her clown friend.
They are staring at you.
You mash your power button and the television screen blinks into nothingness, and now you are alone in the deafeningly silent darkness, only your stove clock and microwave remain. The tone still rings in your ears.
...can you make it to your room alone?