I relaxed in my Adirondack chair and stared out over the houses. The sun was beginning to fade away, showcasing it’s last warm rays before the night would eventually come to take them away. The smell of petrichor filled the air as the short-lived rain shower finished misting the ground. Autumn was always beautiful around here.
A red Honda pulled into my driveway as I was staring out at the sunset. It was Matt. Matt Sewell was my best friend and he had been since the second grade. His last name was pronounced ‘suel’ and I had a running joke where I called him ‘Sewell-ez’ canal, Which eventually became just Suez. It’s not that funny in hindsight, but I came up with it after the Suez Canal had been blocked by that huge cargo ship back in 2021. Stupid, I know, but it stuck after that. Matt hopped out of the car and made his way over to me.
“What’s up Suez?”, I asked. Our hands slapped together with the obligatory fist bump at the end. Because you have to fist bump. It’s a rule, right?
“Not much Tom. Amber and Tonya told me their going tonight also. It will be the perfect time for you work your magic with Amber”. He wiggled his fingers in the air mysteriously as he said ‘work your magic’ as if he were tapping into his own nonexistent magical powers.
I laughed at that. “Magic. Right. I’m pretty sure if I had magic to work I would have used it by now. I don’t think she’s into me, so I’ll just leave it alone for now. How are you and Tonya doing?”.
“Same as always I guess. Things have been a bit rocky since her Grandma died, but we’ve managed to work through it. Death kinda sucks man”, Matt almost whispered the last sentence.
I nodded in agreement but didn’t reply. I had the thought again. It was a morbid thought I always had. One where I wondered if Matt remembered that my mom had passed away 6 years ago. It was this stupid, intrusive thought that occasionally popped into my head. For some reason it always came back though.
I think that sometimes the people in our lives just don’t remember, or simply forget, the intricate details of us. The experiences that make us, us. Maybe for them those memories are just set somewhere in the background and they only come back to them at certain times. They don’t have to live with it because it didn’t happen to them. They don’t have to remember it with those vivid details. I think the worst part is that they probably do forget it at some point. I’ve found it’s worse with your mother dying, over the years. One simple thing comes to mind: Mom jokes. They have been around forever and they aren’t leaving anytime soon. For anyone else, they are just things that are said to get a rise, or a laugh, out of people. I was supposed to laugh at those jokes but for me it just brought back Memories. Memories of my mom lying in a cold, metallic coffin and carrying that coffin to her final resting place. Loss was something I was all too familiar with. I had only ever talked to Matt, Tonya, and Amber about it in any real depth. It just wasn’t something I liked to bring up because it’s usually a depressing story.
Matt and I had both turned 21 that year and were indulging, a little heavily, on the alcohol front. We were still young enough to feel like teenagers but at the same time we had all the responsibilities of adults. Truthfully, I don’t think anyone ever grows up. We may all get older with time but mentally we always think we’re young. My dad was 49 and he still acted like a teenager most of the time. 21 years old is the perfect example of the age where you’re just barely removed from those carefree teen years.
I got up from my chair and asked, “Where are we going?” Matt replied, “First we’re going to The Bar to get some drinks and food. But Tonya said something about going to Arcade World afterwards. Arcade World is right across the street from the bar, and what’s better than drunken arcade games?”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” I said.
The sky was a gloomy gray as we made our way to Tonya’s house. After we picked up the girls we headed over to The Bar. For those curious the bar’s name was actually The Bar. Easy enough to remember I suppose. The rain began making it’s presence felt again as it pitter pattered against the windshield. We found a parking spot in the mostly barren lot and made our way inside.
Low rumblings of lively conversation filled the room. Some football game played in the corner of the room, but I couldn’t make out who was playing. I spotted an empty booth along the far wall and pointed it out. Everyone ordered a beer to start and picked up the menus looking at them fervently. The best thing at The Bar was the burgers, and since I’m not one to break tradition I already knew what I would have. Tonya was looking at her phone from behind the menu. She exhaled a long sigh as she put her menu down.
Tonya: “Has anyone heard about all these suicides taking place all over town?”
Me: “I think I saw something on Facebook about one girl from the local high school. I haven’t heard anything about multiple suicides though.”
Amber: “I heard about that girl too. Rachel something, right? I also saw an article about the couple that committed suicide together over on Fairview.”
Matt glanced over to Tonya before he spoke.
Matt: “Wait, wait, wait. Just how many suicides are we talking about here? How many have you heard about?”
Tonya picked up her phone and scrolled to the top of the article she was reading. She reached what she was looking for and glanced back up at us.
Tonya: “26. There have been 26 so far according to this article.”
She held her phone out over the table and waved it in front of us. I reached for it and she let it go. I scrolled to the top of the page and started reading.
The article read as follows:
Mysterious rash of suicides said to stem from song circulating online
by: Jay Edgers
Posted: Sep 27, 2023 / 006:17 AM
Updated: Sep 27, 2023 / 006:28 AM
Potts, Colo. — A string of suicides in the greater Potts area has left officials baffled. The most recent development, in the ongoing case, is the death of West Potts High School senior, Rachel Hawke. Officials found the body of Ms. Hawke in her home late last evening. The cause of death has been verified as a self inflicted gunshot wound to the head. Rachel Hawke is the latest victim of the mysterious online ‘suicide song’.
According to the Potts County Sheriff’s Office, there have been 26 victims already. Officials are working night and day to track down any leads they can. The suicide song, also known as, the “The Devil’s Lullaby” remains an internet mystery. It is an elusive song that has been circulating online. It has been reported that anyone who hears it has the immediate desire to end their own lives. Authorities have yet to track down its origin, and how it might be…….
I read the first couple paragraphs of the article before handing Tonya back her phone. I took a long drink from my glass and set it back down.
Me: “A song that makes you commit suicide? What the hell.”
Tonya: “Crazy, right?”
Me: “I never thought that could be a thing.”
Matt: “Now I definitely want to hear this song. Is that weird?”
Amber: “Yes, Matt. Yes it is. It’s possible some of those people had that exact thought as well. They just assumed nothing would happen because ‘it’s just a song’ and then…..”
She imitated slicing her throat and blood flowing out. Matt and I laughed.
Tonya: “Don’t even think about it. This is serious! No one really knows whats happening, only that you hear the song and it makes you commit suicide. Don’t worry though, you wouldn’t be able to find it anyway. Apparently it’s only on the dark web now.”
She glowered over in Matt’s direction. She knew Matt was a computer whiz.
Me: “What I don’t understand is how it can actually make you commit suicide. A song can be suggestive, like that Momo thing that was going around YouTube, but it can’t actually make you do anything.”
Matt: “Have you ever heard of the song ‘Gloomy Sunday’?”
Tonya, Amber, and I glanced around at each other before our collective gaze settled back on Matt. We all shook our heads in unison.
Amber: “I don’t believe I have.”
Matt: “It’s a sort of urban legend. Gloomy Sunday was this old time song written back in the 1920’s or 30’s by some Hungarian composer, I can’t remember his name. This song became nicknamed the Hungarian suicide song. It was, supposedly, so sad for the time period that people would listen to it and commit suicide after hearing it. According to legend, he wrote the song to get the love of his life back after they broke up. And it worked at first, they eventually got back together. However, a little while later she committed suicide by jumping out of his apartment window… There is a lot of death associated with that song. But I have to tell you that I have listened to it a few times and nothing has happened.”
He finished his last sentence with a smile.
Amber: “I can see that. We are very fortunate, aren’t we?”.
Matt smiled more widely.
Tonya: “I have never heard of that song before but that’s bleak. The two songs are practically related then. These songs spark something in people and it pushes them over the edge.”
Me: “I understand how it can be unsettling, but there’s no way a song would actually make you do it. If you want to do it you will, but to blame it on a song is just ludicrous.”
Matt: “Here, here”. And he raised his glass and took a sip.
A sense of unease grew inside of me. Suicide was not a normal train of thought, you had to be in a very dark place before those thoughts even entered your mind. I was no stranger to them though. I had been in that dark place before and those thoughts came to me there. A feeling of hopelessness, of sadness, of loss. A place I tried to scratch, crawl, climb my way out of only to fall back down even further. It felt like I just wanted to escape, but I couldn’t. Everything suffocated me and it took everything I had just to breathe, just to exist. I was barely hanging on, clinging to anything that made me feel alive in this world.
I shook my head as my mind wandered back to that horrible place. I didn’t even want to be reminded of it. I finished the last of my beer and made my way over to the bar for another. Upon my return I was greeted with a question from Amber. She had a look of concern on her face. I looked into her eyes as I took my seat.
Amber: “Are you alright Tom?”
Me: “Yeah. Don’t worry I’m fine.”
I hurriedly avoided her eyes as she continued to watch me. Turning to Matt I asked my next question.
Me: “So would you really listen to that song if you could find it?”
Matt: “Absolutely. Stuff like that doesn’t frighten me at all. I’m probably going to check it out when I get home. What was it called again?”
Me: “The Devil’s Lullaby, because it will probably lull you to sleep forever…”
The night got better after that. With a few more drinks and eventually some food in our stomachs we made our way over to Arcade World. The time flew by and before we knew it it was 10:50 and they were closing soon. I was exhausted by that point. On our way back to my house Matt dropped off Tonya and Amber so it was just him and I. I was mid yawn when he asked, “Do you want to come over to my place and try to find that song?”. I thought about it for a moment. Did I really want to hear this song? I don’t really think there is any song out there that could actually make you commit suicide. It just had to have a really depressing atmosphere or lyrics to it. Like Tonya said it was just a song that flirted with that line and sparked something in people. Despite my better judgment, I was still curious about it and wanted to know why it was so bad.
Me: “I think my curiosity is peaked just enough to listen to it. I doubt it’s all that bad to be honest.”
Matt: “My sentiments exactly.”
I pulled out my phone and sent a message to Amber: Matt and I are heading to his place. I think we’re going to listen to that song. A few minutes later we arrived and made our way inside. Entering Matt’s bedroom I took a seat in his recliner. Matt hopped in the computer chair and began clacking away. I still don’t know how he does it, but Matt is like a computer genius. He can do just about anything when it comes to computers. I didn’t even bother to ask how he was going to find it. I knew that if it was still online he would eventually find it. I always told him to get a job at Google or some tech company because he could make great money. His response was always that it was just a hobby and not something he wanted to all the time. I started feeling more and more nervous the longer I sat in the chair. I didn’t know if I really wanted to listen to to this song anymore.
My phone chimed in my pocket just as Matt brought his hands together with a loud clap before rubbing them together. He turned his chair around and faced me.
Matt: “I think I got it. Are you ready for this? ”
Me: “I honestly don’t know. What if there is actually something wrong with this song?”
Matt: “Oh come on. It’s like you said back at The Bar, ‘there’s no way a song could actually make you do it.’”
He was right. I did say that but I wasn’t expecting to have my own words thrown back at me. I thought for another moment. The only thing I could come up with was ‘what’s the worst that can happen?’. So, ultimately I said, “Fuck it. Let’s hear it.”
He turned the speakers up as he clicked something on the computer and the song began to play. A deep rumble filled the speakers and they spewed out the most melancholic and harrowing sounds I had ever heard. Everything changed. Nothing was the same anymore. There was a shift in the air, one I couldn’t make out. I wanted to get up and shut it off but I was glued to the chair. The music continued to pour from the speakers. It filled the air with a gloomy haze that Matt and I became trapped in. My head became fuzzy and I couldn’t see straight, couldn’t think straight. The anxiety was suffocating me and I couldn’t breathe. I tried to block out and push away the intrusive thoughts as they began to fill me up and drown me. It felt like an eternity, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute. Matt was the first to stand up. I glanced at him as he reached for the Xacto knife that was sitting in his pencil cup. He popped the cap off and stared at it for a moment before he inserted it into his wrist and made a deep vertical cut on his arm that ran from his hand to his inner elbow. Blood gushed everywhere, filling the carpet with sickeningly puddles of dark crimson. He stared at his arm for a moment, his skin growing white in contrast to the bright red hair on his head. He started gasping wildly for air as his body collapsed to the floor. The music continued playing, but the haze that filled the room had intensified.
I stood up as a dark cloud descended over my consciousness and drained me of any happiness I might have been able to muster. My mind wandered to death, to loss. This was suffering. The only thoughts that came to me were those of the worst experiences of my life. I thought of my mom. I always had a way of coming back to her, of what could have been if she had just a little more time in this world. Just as I settled to the bottom of this dark void in my head, a voice appeared. Was it coming from the song or was this a voice inside my head? I couldn’t tell where it originated, but it’s wicked tongue sank it’s hooks into me, spinning a twisted and altered tale of my life. It shattered my personal beliefs and widdled me down until I was nothing. The music kept playing.
“There is no happy ending for you. Your father, your family, hate you. God hates you. You mean nothing to them. Your mother was taken from you to spare her. It would have been cruel for her to witness the pathetic excuse of a son she polluted this earth with. She wanted nothing to do with you after all, Isn’t that why she left your family in the first place to run off with some other man? Your friends say niceties to your face but whisper your pathetic truths behind your back. This world doesn’t need you. Spare us your miserable existence. Kill yourself.”
The voice didn’t stop. The verbal assault continued, repeating similar messages again and again as they grew darker and more sinister with each retelling. I had to get this voice out of my head. But how? Why? It was right. I knew it was right and there was nothing I could do about it. It was all true. The voice was feeding off my emotions; it somehow knew my innermost thoughts. It knew my weakness and how frail my mind had become. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to get it out of my head.
In a daze like state I made my way over to Matt’s body and picked up the Xacto knife from the floor. I stared at it’s razor sharp edge now covered in blood. It was so welcoming, like greeting an old friend. I put it to my wrist as the voice faded. The fuzzy feeling in my head cleared slightly and the cloud of darkness that loomed receded once more. Momentarily shocked I noticed the knifes tip had barely punctured the skin. I didn’t even remember making contact. A lone drop of blood made its way down my wrist and dropped to the floor.
Regaining my focus, I pulled the knife away from my wrist and saw Amber swinging a baseball bat wildly at the computers speakers on the desk. She had earplugs in both ears. She stopped swinging once both speakers were utterly destroyed. She looked up at me. I started sobbing as she stepped over and embraced me.
“It’s all my fault”, I wept. “I miss her so much, Amber. I should have been there, I should have done better. If I would have just done something differently I could have changed it! I could have saved her! Then none of this would have happened.”
“It’s not your fault, Tom”, she whispered in my ear as she embraced me tighter. “There was nothing you could have done differently. Sometimes things happen for no reason. There’s nothing anyone could have done to change what happened.”
She looked at me and smiled as she loosened her grip on me and grabbed my hands, glancing down at them. She saw my wrist and said, “I’m going to get the first aid kit, I’ll be right back”.
She returned moments later to bandage up my cut wrist.
In retrospect, that night was a blur. I could easily have misremembered things. I honestly can’t really recall much of what happened or even how it was possible for a song to put someone into such a manic state of mind. All I know is that it was possible and that it happened to me. I still have the scar to show for it. The only reasonable explanation I can give for enduring the song longer than Matt is that I had been to that dark place before. Some people have never been to those extremes and, in a way, I envy them. What I can say is that I fought my own mind that night and almost lost. Truthfully Amber was the one who saved me. Without her I might not be here to tell this tale.
Matt’s funeral was yesterday and it broke me all over again. Matt was right, ‘Death kinda sucks’
If not for her I would have succumbed and I wouldn’t be here today. Today I’m taking up writing in a journal to keep those thoughts and doubts at bay. I want to be able to study them.
I’ll leave you with my first journal entry on death and loss since it is an even bigger part of my life now:
“Matt was right, death kinda sucks. I miss that guy every day. He was my best friend. Death doesn’t just kinda suck though. It fully sucks all the time. You spend your whole life making connections and bonds with people, only to find out they aren’t there one day. Why? What was the point of that bond, that connection, if it can be taken away from you so easily? Why bother even trying?
In the wake of death I find myself trying to pick up the pieces of my life. I try to cram, shove, tape, glue them back together with the hope that I can have some semblance of what I once had. But it’s never the same. It will never be the same again. I’m left with a gaping hole in what once was. Life is just trying to understand and make sense of the world around you. But when you suddenly have all these holes you’re trying to patch up nothing seems to really make sense anymore. It’s irrational. So I try to pick up those missing pieces and put them back anyway that I can with the hope that I can make it make sense, just enough, to continue on. Life is fickle and we have to change with it in order to bear it. ”