There's a radio station you can only catch on the M6 way up north near the Mossband marsh. It used to be found down by Punnetts Town but over the last six years it's gradually been making its way to somewhere. I always assumed it was a couple of guys broadcasting their show from a car or van but now I know better.
I've seen the signal.
Imagine a bunch of old aerials and whatever's leftover at a butcher's place at the end of a quiet week and make it about four feet tall. Give it the greenest eyes you could possibly imagine and a few perfect radio voices talking to each other.
I didn't get too close, couldn't make myself to get out of my car until it was long gone. Something about the way it walked seemed predatory, that cautious, hunched over gait before a tiger leaps for its prey. It felt safer to watch it go, hearing the voices happily chattering about what books they loved that I'd never be able to find.
Wherever it's going, I want to be as far away as humanly possible.
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