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.