There’s a woman voice in my head, singing a lullaby.

There I was again tonight, Forcing laughter, faking smiles. __ __ Her voice haunts my memories because it reminds me of a girl I once loved.

Same old tired, lonely place _Walls of insincerity _ Shifting eyes and vacancy Vanished when I saw your face __ __ Her face is a mere blur that I hardly remember, but she is gone. And I was enchanted by her beauty, which cannot be retrieved.

Everywhere I go It echoes through the walls Haunting lyrics to a silly little song

A nursery ryhme Almost a crime Hurting my brain Contorting my soul

Rock-a-bye baby In the treetop __ __ The pictures fill my head Thoughts I wish not to think I beg my brain to shut up To leave me alone

When the wind blows The cradle will rock

Thinking full lyrics it only leads to peril A full song is a wish that hopes to come true

When the bough breaks The cradle will fall __ __ I swear I can hear creaking And groaning and moaning Sounds I wish not to hear

Intrusive thoughts That fill my brain And evil melody of pain

And down will come baby cradle and all

I hear a faint scream A cry a yelp I yearn to help But the song wont stop playing

It plays until its all i know Until no one is safe around me The intrusion of it The whole ordeal Is haunting me

Baby is drowsing Cosy and fair

The words wont stop They never leave me alone No medicine or help will do

I dont want to hurt you I am only hurting myself by keeping it locked up inside But i dont feel safe

Mother sits near In her rocking chair

No one can love me in a state like this I feel so alone without any bliss

Alone with my thoughts all day and all night Becoming worse every second I cant put up a fight

Forward and back The cradle she swings

I feel isolated from the world My brain a poison to all who come near Killing me slowly

It gets colder the thoughts keep coming I want them to go away Please just go away

And though the baby sleeps He hears what she sings

A close to the thoughts you think comes at night But never do they cease And continue to fright

Go away from me You think I am awful The thoughts tell me so They tell me everything I need to know __ __ __ … __ __ 🫀__ __

Livin' easy Lovin' free Season ticket on a one way ride Askin' nothin' Leave me be Takin' everythin' in my stride

 Josh let the music fill his head. He nodded his head to the beat, humming the iconic guitar lines. His hand moved automatically, relying mostly on muscle memory. 

Don't need reason Don't need rhyme Ain't nothin' that I'd rather do Goin' down Party time My friends are gonna be there too

 He let his foot tap the ground to the beat as the chorus approached. Shifting the paper he had just finished filling out, Josh stretched, popping his back as he did so. He glanced at the clock, which read 6:23. Seven more minutes until official closing. Seven more minutes until he could leave. 

I'm on the highway to hell On the highway to hell Highway to hell I'm on the highway to hell

 The door opened, and Josh rushed to pause the music. If his boss caught him playing AC/DC in the funeral home, the teen would probably be fired. 

__ No stop signs Speed limit Nobody's gonna slow me down Like a wheel Gonna spin it Nobody's gonna mess me around

 The melody continued playing despite Josh trembling attempts to stop it. When he saw who had walked through the door, he heaved a sigh of relief and sunk back into his chair. 

Hey satan Payin' my dues Playin' in a rockin' band Hey mumma Look at me I'm on the way to the promised land

 “Having fun?” Sandy peeked over the counter. 
 Josh winked at the pretty girl before drawling, “Sooooo much fun.” 

I'm on the highway to hell Highway to hell I'm on the highway to hell Highway to hell Don't stop me

 “Didn’t Mr. Cypress say not to play loud music? Specifically this song?” Sandy frowned. 
 “It’ll be fine, there’s no customers this late.” Josh answered as he pulled another form under his pencil. 

I'm on the highway to hell On the highway to hell Highway to hell I'm on the highway to hell __ __ Sandy turned and shrugged, barely missing the look of shock on Josh’s face. The paper. It’s- Sandy turned at the crash, eyes widening. Josh scrambled from where he had been sitting and sprinted out of the building, face pale. __ __

(highway to hell) I'm on the highway to hell (highway to hell) highway to hell (highway to hell) highway to hell __

 Sandy glanced at the form that had left Josh in a state of shock and took a short, sharp breath at what she saw. 
 “Josh Turner,” it read, “Age: 19, DOB: 11/17/05 (3:57 AM), DATE OF DEATH: 01/07/25 (6:38 PM)”

(highway to hell)__ And I'm goin' down All the way __

 Josh stood in the middle of the road, gasping, eyes wide, too exhausted to move as the semi truck bore down on him. 
 The last thing he saw was the driver’s eyes, shocked and terrified. 
 The last thing he heard was a screech from the brakes. 
 The last thing he remembered was the final line of the song: 

I'm on the highway to hell

Francine descended the stairs, her spirits lifted by the aroma of breakfast wafting from the kitchen. Mark, her husband, stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with practiced ease while their seven-year-old daughter, Gloria, giggled at the table, bouncing to the sound of a song blaring from the Amazon Echo:

This is the song that doesn't end. Yes, it goes on and on, my friend.

Francine chuckled as she stepped into the kitchen. “What are you two listening to?”

Mark grinned. “She’s obsessed. Catchy, isn’t it?”

Gloria hummed along, completely off-key, as if she were singing an entirely different song. She swung her legs under the table, her face glowing with amusement. “It’s so funny, Mommy!”

Francine smiled, grabbing plates from the cabinet. She set the plates down just as the song looped—cute, she thought. She shot a glance at Mark, who shrugged, clearly entertained by their daughter’s antics. At least breakfast was her favorite—Mark’s fluffy pancakes, bacon and scrambled eggs.

After eating, Francine drove Gloria to school. Gloria was in the passenger seat, tablet in hand. She twirled her left arm like a conductor as the tablet’s tiny speaker started to play:

…on and on, my friend. __ Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was. __ And, they'll continue singing it forever, just because... This is the song that doesn't end. Yes, it goes on and on…

However, Gloria was moving her hand and humming to an entirely different song. “Is that London Bridges?” she thought idly. Francine smirked to herself. “Wow, she’s terrible,” was all she could think.

“Gloria, can we listen to something else?” Francine asked, trying to mask her growing irritation.

“But I love it!” Gloria exclaimed, spinning her hands like she was conducting an orchestra. Francine sighed but didn’t press the issue.

After dropping Gloria off, she slipped back into the car, relief washing over her as she switched to her playlist. A familiar mellow tune began to play—until static crackled over the speakers.

“No,” she whispered, glancing at her phone. The display showed her playlist, but the speakers betrayed her. That annoying looping song echoing through the car.

She jabbed the radio button, silencing the torment. Francine exhaled, but unease gnawed at her. She could not recall ever purchasing that song. Perhaps Mark would know, she said, making a mental note to ask him when she got home.

At work, she settled at her desk, trying to shake the strange morning, when Jill called her over.

“Hey, come see this! Megan’s play last night. She was so adorable!”

Francine joined Jill and another coworker, Demona—new to the office, faintly familiar from a brief introduction.

Jill pressed play. A video of Jill’s daughter twirling onstage filled the screen. Francine’s breath hitched as the familiar refrain began in the background.

“Wow, I really hate that song,” she muttered. Jill laughed. “What? Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. What do you have against a poor tiny celestial body?”

“I… yeah. You’re right.” She offered, her hands trembling slightly. Demona gave her a soft smile. “You sure you’re okay? You look pale.”

Francine forced a laugh. “I’m just tired, I guess.”

At lunch, Jill suggested a new taco place on 3rd Avenue. Francine invited Demona along, hoping to help her feel welcome. The restaurant buzzed with chatter, and for a while, Francine relaxed, enjoying the easy conversation with Jill, while Demona mostly nodded along. As the break was ending, Jill excused herself to the restroom. Then the speakers crackled to life.

Francine froze, fork halfway to her mouth. Demona arched an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

Francine gestured upward. “This song… it’s everywhere. It’s been following me all day.”

Demona listened, nodding. “It’s annoying, but probably just a coincidence.”

Jill returned, smiling. “Oh, I love this song!”

Francine’s eyes narrowed. “How could you possibly love this? It’s the most irritating kids’ song ever.”

Jill laughed. “Kids’ song? Francine, I’m offended. This is my favorite song.”

Francine blinked, then said smiling. “Your favorite song is Black Hole Sun, Jill. Are you feeling okay?”

Jill’s smile faltered. “Francine, this is Black Hole Sun.”

Francine stared. “No, it’s not. Jill, stop messing with me.”

Jill wordlessly pulled out her phone and quickly opened her Shazam app. She held her phone up slightly to the ceiling speaker. After a few seconds, the app flashed: __ Black Hole Sun – Soundgarden

Francine’s chest tightened. “No. That’s impossible. I hear it…“ then singing along. “This is the song that doesn't end—“.

Jill frowned, cutting her off. “Is everything alright, Francine?”

Francine rubbed her temples. “I just… I need a minute.”

Jill stood again. “Okay, I’m heading to the restroom to wash my hands.” She walked away, leaving them both at the table.

Francine stared at Demona, pulse racing. “You heard it, right? The song? Or am I off my rocker!”

Demona nodded. “Yeah. It’s kind of hard to miss.”

Relief flooded Francine. Moments later, Jill returned, cheerful as ever.

Francine blurted, “Demona heard it too! It’s not just me!”

Jill tilted her head. “Francine, who are you talking about?”

Francine gestured to Demona, who sat calmly beside her.

Jill’s face paled. “Francine… there’s no one there. You are acting really weird today.”

Francine’s heart pounded, while she stared at Demona. “I’m looking right at her, Jill.”

Jill grabbed her bag. “I think you need to go home.”

Demona looked up at Francine and locked eyes with her as they heard Jill walk away.

Francine whispered, “What’s going on?”

Demona’s lips faded, her features melting into a smooth, empty void. Then she was gone.

Francine jumped out of her chair. Then she listened as the nightmarish song playing from the restaurant speakers started to slow, as if the singing was in slow motion. Until it stopped completely, and a guttural voice replaced it:

I am the song that never ends.

Melody woke up sweating. There it was again. At first, she'd thought the humming was her fridge, but it had gradually grown into a song. The piano notes repeated themselves in her dreams every night. The minor key they were in sent a chill down her spine every time she heard it. The first thing she did, was reach for her phone and call Ladina. "I heard it again." She spoke shakily into the phone. "Melody, you've gotta stop this. It's just your fridge!" Her friend sounded tired, no doubt from her long day at work. "That's what you say every time, it's not the fridge Lidi!" Lidina didn't respond, but Melody heard a snorting sound. She turned to her backup. She shook Jake awake. "I heard it again." His face still halfway in his pillow, he responded "It's nothing, please go back to sleep. It's the weekend, I need sleep." He was always so lazy when it came to sleep. "Fine, but I'm going outside to prove it's not the fridge." Melody slipped out of bed, and out to the kitchen. The refrigerator made a soft buzzing sound, but no music came out of the large metal box. Sighing, she turned to head back to bed, when a flickering motion in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She spun around. The sound of the fridge had grown a few octaves, and Melody's heart was pounding. Something came at her face, and she screamed, just in time too. Jake came running in and found Melody on the floor, a large red scratch across her face. "What happened?" He said, helping her to her feet, and examining the scratch across her forehead. "I told you, I told you Jake but you didn't listen." She began sobbing and ranting on. He held her head close to his chest, trying to calm her. But no one could. Not anymore. They hadn't listened, so now she would face the consequences.

Psst, I see dead people… __ __ I pause in my tracks. Most people would turn around to see what thing, what person uttered such an eerie verse. I thought I’d ridden myself of whatever had been haunting me. Evidently not.

Lately I’ve felt so cold. My bones ache everywhere and I feel so alone. Whatever’s doing this to me has no mercy.

I see dead people… __ __ “Shut up!” I yell into the air, not caring who hears. But it seems everyone around me, save for a few who appear to be absolutely bewildered, don’t notice, or if they do, they just dont care. “Won’t you leave me be?”

No reply, whatsoever. The moment I speak up, is a moment of peace I am provided with. Imagine that—running from the very thing that causes you such misery, it never leaving you, but then you stand up to it, and it quiets. For once, it is silent.

In this world—Darkharmony—every song has meaning. Every note is sung with intention, and it is your job to figure out why and how it is being used. I have never believed in this superstition. It’s foolish to take heed in such unrealistic ideas. But I do believe in the gods of Harmony, and I can only think I have done something worthy enough of their judgement.

The question I’ve been asking myself for weeks now, is exactly what that is. If I _have _done anything, there is no recollection of it. Forget seeing _dead people; _when I search into the depths of my brain, _I see nothing. _Nothing exists but the hollowness I feel, and it’s not only in my head—it’s everywhere. Every step I take feels like I’m walking bearfoot on the coldest ice known to man. Every breath of air is like breathing in the deathly winters, itself.

Psssst, I see— __ __ “I KNOW WHAT YOU SEE!” I keep my pace up the small sidewalk to Miss Andrew’s old crafts shop. She is the oldest and wisest out of evryone. If anyone possesses any information to why this is happening, it’s her.

The door opens with a little welcome jingle. None else are inside, except for Miss Andrew’s. I can speak to her in private. She looks past me to the door and narrows her aged eyes suspiciously.

“Evening, Miss Andrew’s!” I greet her. But when she meets my gaze, not a single ounce of happiness crosss her face. She defogs her spectacles, and stares at me in pure shock. But this is not the surprise of someone delightful to see you.

“Mia?” She gasps. “What in C Minor’s name are you doing here?”

“I—I don’t get your meaning, Miss Andrew’s,” I stammer in confusion. “I see you every morning, but I have something of the utmost importance to speak to you about.”

“No.” She paces behind her counter, uttering the word over and again.

“Miss Andrew’s—?”

“You are not supposed to be here,” she howls. “It wasn’t your time!”

Panic strikes every vein in my body. The blood that has seemingly run cold this whole time, has now stopped altogether. It’s horrific—feeling faint, but not being able to. “I don’t under—”

I gasp, the air so cold I nearly choke. I back away from the counter, because I remember. The memories are spilling back in a never ending blizzard. Old Miss Bitty Andrew’s died weeks ago. I went to her funeral. I remember the song they played. Afterwards, everyone was talking about how the song that played was so lovely. But it wasn’t. It was completely inappropriate. It didn’t fit the setting at all. I nearly fall backwards thinking of it.

We heard two completely different songs. What I heard, was the song GONE by NF and Julia Micheals. Not the whole song, but specifically the chorus—

Don’t wait, it’s too late to keep holding on __ Yeah I’m already gone __ __ “Mia wait, dear—!”

I run out of the shop, tripping over my skirts. I don’t know where I’m going, I’m not thinking of that. Now people pause on the streets. They pick their hands up to their mouths, aghast—or at least the people that know me—knew me.

There really _are _two worlds. One for the living and one for the dead. Except it’s the same world, too. There are people I know knew me, and they keep walking along with their children, their little dogs, humming notes of joy.

They are still living, I realize. __ __ But those who can see me…

Sarah Gull, who died ten years ago. Ruth Bayleaf, two months ago of Scarlet fever. Little Louis Grayson, last winter by a hunter with poor eyes, who mistook him for a dear. Damian Short and his tragic accident with skating over a rather unsteady, frozen lake.

And me…

I was walking home after finally kissing the boy I’d loved for _years. _ __ __ The front of my boot gets stuck in a crevice in the sidewalk, and I fall, my chin smacking the cement. But when I pick my head up, there is no blood. No wound. But it still hurts.

That’s when I fully recall the events of that night. I was mugged. They ordered me not to scream, but I did. I fought back. But they were too strong. One bashed me over the head, and I was out.

My temple both burns and stings just thinking about it.

They didn’t want any evidence I’d been murdered, so they picked me up and threw me into an icy lake. I imagine myself hitting the frozen-over surface, sinking, the waterrs pulling me down and down until the moon was just a glowing dot in the night that mocked me. I drowned. Even if I had come to consciousness, I couldn’t have done anything, either. I hadn’t known how to swim.

I suck in a breath. Suddenly my beautiful blue dress is sopping wet, and I’m shivering. Deep, chocolate locks stick to my forehead, and a puddle swiftly forms around my crumbled figure, as I hold myself up with two, gloved hands. I turn my gaze upward, and peer at the night sky in disbelief. A new star suddenly appears once I come to the conclusion.

Psst, I see dead people. __

That’s what the song has been trying to tell me. I’ve been mindlessly passing by deceased individuals for weeks now because—

“I’m dead.”

I’m basic I know But she saved my life She.saved.my.life I’m sorry if that bothers you But her I strive to be able to create tales like she does To weave together words that could crack someone open I wasn’t able to afford tickets Still I feel like I’ve been to each concert Her ways of making everyone feel as if they know her Even with all the shit she’s been through She’s still motivating She’s still there You weren’t So call me a basic bitch But I will happily take that title Because this women saved my life And I will forever respect her

• this was very much a word vomit poem so sry it wasn’t very poetic*

I can’t get this memorable song out of my head It sleeps with me in my dreams I him it in the shower in the car when I’m listening on my iPhone etc Runnig It melts my heart and mind into a state of trance and bliss llaalsa tata tata I’m invincible I wake up I hear a truck I run I yell and suddenly it hits me Nothing happens I see the damaged truck I’m invincible

It’s only thanksgiving

the parade has begun

my cars warm

the outsides cold

but when i turn on the radio

i can’t think straight anymore

i hear the screams

the fa-la-la-la-las haunt

the city turns bright red and white

flashing lights around every avenue and boulevard

The song grew louder as the days passed. It was always there, whispering at the edges of her awareness. Eve started to hear it in places it couldn’t possibly be: on the static-laden intercom of the subway, in the shuffle of leaves on the sidewalk, in the way her coffee pot gurgled in the morning.

Her sleep suffered. At night, the melody would wrap itself around her dreams, leaving her groggy and irritable. She began snapping at friends, avoiding phone calls, retreating into herself.

Then the dreams changed. She started seeing flashes of a shadowy figure, always distant but unmistakably there—a man in an old, frayed suit, his face obscured by the haze of her dream. And always, the melody followed him like a shroud.

Eve couldn’t take it anymore.