I don’t normally go to college parties. I have no shame in admitting it; I’m an extremely antisocial introvert when it comes to large, loud, drunken gatherings. I’m happy to meet up at a coffee shop, go to the movies, go to a restaurant in a large group even. But parties? Keggers or whatever Americans call them, that kind of party held in some rich kid’s house or a college dorm, with security slipped a back-hander to look the other way… Christ, I don’t even know if that’s how it works, okay? I don’t usually attend, and I certainly never organise these things myself. But I went to this one, and it was a stark reminder that I should trust my fucking gut. Albeit, not for the reasons I would’ve expected.
I’m in my second year at college, living in a dorm. I’m often surrounded by folk who are enthralled at the idea of a British transfer student studying in America, and for some reason this makes them believe that I absolutely should be the life of the party. A friend, Eve, once described me as ‘the girl that everyone wants to be their plus one’. Apparently having a ‘foreign’ student tagalong really increases their cool cred or something. This makes me sound like some narcissistic It-Girl. That’s really not the case. I’m as baffled by this as anyone. I’ve no idea if this is a phenomenon central to [college name removed] or what. Basically, what I’m saying is, if there’s a party going down, I get nagged intolerably until I either snap and tell people to go away, or agree to attend with my friends.
The point is, this time I was a reluctant attendee. The party in question hit the news for all the wrong reasons, so I guess I’m just pretty defensive in regards to stating my reluctance. Christ knows I’ve had to do it enough times in the days and weeks that followed that night.
There were four of us who rocked up that night in my friend Josh’s battered old SUV. Myself, Josh obviously, my aforementioned friend Eve, and the guy who wanted to get into her pants, Jace. If it sounds like the recipe for a double date, it really really wasn’t. People always think Josh and I are an item, but no. More of a brother/sister kinda deal. And I knew from the entire day’s conversation that Eve had no interest in Jace. She’d set her sights on Braden Whitegate, a kid I’d only seen from afar but whose party we were about to attend. So yeah, maybe there was a little unpleasant sexual tension in the car, at least from the back seat. Eve was making no secret of her disinterest in Jace. Meanwhile, Josh kept quipping to me about friendzoning, I’m sure within Jace’s earshot, and it was just… tense. I’m not really sure how Jace had managed to tag along with us. He wasn’t a friend of any of us.
We have had a pretty solid group. At the time of the party it was me, Josh, Eve, Arash and Wheeler. Arash and Wheeler are teenage sweethearts - grew up together in a small town, realised their feelings for each other in high school, came out publicly once they started attending the same college together and hey, it’s okay for two men to hold hands in public at college. Eve was always pinballing between boyfriends at the time, and Josh… well, he’s just Josh. I’m not sure he’s ever had a girlfriend.
I need you to understand how we were, so you can understand what we’ve lost.
We pulled up at Braden’s house at maybe quarter to ten. Party was already in full swing. Music blaring from his parents’ expensive sound system, college kids already passed out on the front lawn. Beer pong was going on in the backyard, and kids were diving into the Whitegates’ heated pool. I was sort of taken aback, honestly. It was such a stereotypical college party that I could cry.
We walked in through a miasma of cheap cologne and weed smoke. I did that thing where I tried not to make eye contact with anyone as Eve dragged me away from the group and into the epicentre of this hell, determined to make me socialise/network/show me off, whatever. I glanced back to see Josh already hugging the wall, and Jace looking after Eve with undisguised frustration. Typical Saturday.
There, across the room were Arash and Wheeler, Arash with his hands wrapped around his famous bong. He took a deep drag, exhaled, then bounced up to greet us with his usual exuberance, Wheeler at his heels as usual. We exchanged the typical hugs and pleasantries, yelling over the booming sound system. Wheeler thrust a drink into my hand. I waited until he wasn’t looking then surreptitiously put it down on a mantlepiece. It’s not that I don’t trust Wheeler himself. I just don’t drink at parties unless it’s a drink I’ve brought myself. Just basic safety, isn’t it? Who knew where Wheeler had picked up the drink, who might’ve tampered with it before he did. You hear on the news about guys like Brock Turner, and it just chills my blood, honestly. Maybe I’m over-cautious, but hey, it had never steered me wrong before.
Eve had already downed two drinks (she doesn’t have the same approach to alcohol that I do) and was dragging me into the kitchen, on a crusade to find Braden. Suddenly she grabbed my arm, causing me to almost bump into a football player. Her fingers were tight against my bare flesh. I looked. There was Braden, leaning nonchalantly against the refrigerator, in full-on smarm mode, chatting up a waifish hipster girl who looked like she’d rather be anywhere else right then.
“Ugh, fuck him,” Eve snorted in my ear, released her grip then disappeared off somewhere into the party. I stood in the kitchen feeling lost. The girl Braden had cornered gave me a look, something between ‘what is he like’ and ‘help me’. I vaguely recognised her; she was in a couple of my classes I thought, English Lit definitely. Good enough excuse to rescue her, I decided. I hurried over, struggling to recall her name as I weaved my way between drunken jocks and giggling cheerleader types. Callie, that was it.
“Hey, it’s the goth chick,” Braden said as I approached. I could feel his eyes on my chest, and tugged my lace cardigan over the corset I was wearing. Yeah, I may hate going out, but fuck, when I do, I like to dress up a little at least. Makes it worth something anyway.
“Yo, Braden,” I said. “Gotta borrow Callie for a minute. Sorry.”
I reached out, grabbed Callie’s hand, and dragged the grateful girl away from Braden’s advances. Just a note: Braden’s not like, a sex pest or anything. I don’t think, anyway. It was just one of those situations where the recipient of attention clearly isn’t feeling it, but doesn’t know how to say so. Callie had never struck me as a very assertive type in class. That night, she was a little tipsy, and hugged me a bit tighter than a casual acquaintance might. Not that I minded. I’m not hugely into the hipster waif thing normally, but Callie’s pretty hot. Christ, now I sound like Braden or something. It’s nerves, I think. This is a horrible story to have to tell back.
Callie and I found a quiet corner and chatted for a while. Eve came and found us, and after a moment of icy hostility towards Callie, she soon discovered that Braden’s advances were very much not in Callie’s interest, and began to warm up. It was a nice dynamic. Eve was pretty much my only female friend at the time, so it was kind of nice to have a fun, intimate three-girl chat. We wandered through the party, exchanging pleasantries, Eve grabbing drinks left and right, knocking them back. “Steady on girl!” I told her, but she just laughed. I noticed Callie wasn’t taking any drinks, even though she was clearly drunk. Once we got outside, the reason why was clear. She fished into her purse and produced a small bottle of whisky, half drank. She took a swig and offered it to me. I accepted. It had been in her purse all night, apparently. It felt safe.
By now, we were outside, some distance from the party. Braden’s parents had a small poolhouse/guesthouse a ways from the main garden and pool, and most of the partygoers had gravitated inside at this point. It was fairly private. Quieter. Nicer. We talked for a while longer, and I was relieved that Eve actually sat still instead of ducking off to try and seduce Braden again.
Not long after, we were joined by Arash and Wheeler, with Josh showing up moments later. Then Jace, much to our chagrin. Wheeler got out a baggy and a few of the others shared a joint. It was fun, I guess. Chill. Mellow. Josh kept asking me if I was cold, but it was a summer’s night, and I ended up scolding him a little sharper than I intended, saying he acted like my mum. This caused Callie to surprise me with a shriek of laughter as she tried to emulate my accent. It’s cool. I’m used to Americans doing that in response to things I say. Josh looked a bit hurt, but fuck it, I thought, he was acting like my mother. He was in a short-sleeved t-shirt himself, so he must’ve known it wasn’t bloody cold.
Jace, meanwhile, who was barely conscious, was still making clumsy attempts to get into Eve’s pants. By that I mean some of the most cringe chatup lines I’ve ever heard. As you can imagine, he was met with the exact response he deserved; icy indifference that soon turned into all-out mockery. Arash and Wheeler are lovely guys, but christ they can be brutal when the pair of them start roasting someone. Ultimately this caused a drunken Jace to stalk off, muttering something about ‘frigid bitches’ at Eve as she, Arash and Wheeler laughed in his face. No sympathy for the guy from me, mind. He was pushy as fuck.
I checked my phone. Gone eleven thirty. And hey, maybe now Josh had a point, it was getting cold. We all felt it, so we all decided to seek the nearest shelter we could; the guest house. I led the way, tried the door, it opened easily. I stood on the dark threshold, gooseflesh tickling my skin, and called in. “Hello?”
No answer. Good. We didn’t want to walk in on some horny couple doing the deed on the living room couch. We all darted inside. Callie seemed to have attached herself to me by this point, shadowing me. It was kind of nice. She kept saying how cool Eve and I were. Eve gave me a knowing look, as if this proved her point about me as a tagalong. Whatever. I really didn’t care at this point. I wasn’t drunk, I make it a point not to get properly drunk like, ever, but I was a little heady from Callie’s whisky.
We switched the light on, and all of us froze mid-chatter. Sitting there, in the dark, on the couch, was Braden. He was staring down at the rug, as if the most interesting thing in the world rested there, but I couldn’t see anything.
“Uh, hey, Braden!” Eve said after a moment’s pause. Braden looked up, blinked, as if he hadn’t noticed us enter at all. Seemed unlikely, but who knew the kind of pills he might’ve been dropping that night. His eyes looked a bit bleary, but no real signs of being drugged up or anything though. Eventually he smiled.
“Hey guys!” Braden said. “Welcome to the guest house.”
So it turned out Braden is actually a pretty cool guy. He even had a laugh with Callie about his ill-advised attempt to hit on her. He’s one of those guys who’s pretty confident in himself without being super arrogant. We; me, Eve, Callie, Josh, Braden, Arash and Wheeler sat around in the guest house talking for a bit, until Braden stood up and said: “So, anyone wanna check out the basement?”
Uh. So I have to be honest, the idea of ‘checking out a basement’ seemed like a pretty dumb idea to me. Even though we were in a group, and even though I’m not the type to get freaked out by typically creepy locations. It’s just… enclosed, dark, dirty space, drink and drugs, y’know. Braden obviously saw my hesitation and laughed. “It’s not the kind of basement you’re imagining,” he said with a wink. And what could we do but follow?
Turned out, Braden’s guest house basement was boss. One half of the basement was adorned from floor to ceiling in black tiles, with a hot tub in one corner and a sauna oven against the far wall. Awesome. Rich people have it good, I thought. The other half, divided by a glass wall, was a kind of home gym with couches and a huge fucking plasma TV on the wall, with all manner of PS4s and shit hooked up to it. Great. Now this was more my kind of party. Braden and Eve disappeared off back to the main party to get snacks and drink, and the rest of us made ourselves comfortable on the various sofas. By this point, Callie was pretty wrecked, and kept leaning into me, against my shoulder. Her red hair smelled of vanilla, I remember. She kept trying to take my hand, and sure, I let her, but she was drunk, so I was careful to make sure that her hand didn’t guide mine anywhere else. Maybe some other time, sure, but I have a strict policy when it comes to drunken sexual activity. Plus, y’know, we were in a room with a bunch of other people. Not my thing.
We just hung out, talking and shooting the shit, then Josh stuck the TV on and booted up the PS4. I’m not really into games or hugely knowledgeable about them, but the thing he was playing seemed pretty cool, something a bit like Minecraft but with better graphics. Callie demanded a go and ended up walking into a wall for five minutes before Arash took the controller off her and proceeded to destroy the house Josh had been working on. Josh got pretty pissed, and ended up sulking for a little while. I tried to cheer him up, but he seemed pissed at me too for some reason and I had a nice buzz going and couldn’t be bothered.
Braden returned with two six-packs and no Eve. He was a bit puzzled. They’d split up to acquire snacks with efficiency or something, and he’d seen her crossing the lawn to the guest house. I said she’d probably gone to pee or something, joking about her notoriously weak bladder when she’d had some drinks, and that was that.
We were still chilling, drinking, playing games when it came. The blackout. First the overhead lights flickered, then died, then the TV screen shut off with the kind of audible pop that you associate with old TV sound effects. A hiss of white noise could still be heard through the speakers, and Braden let out a ‘shit’. Arash and Wheeler seemed to find the blackout hilarious. Callie gripped my hand tight, barely conscious now, and nuzzled into me. Josh, somewhere beside me in the darkness, called out. “Is everyone okay?”
Yeah. We all were.
“The power will be back,” Braden said. “I think my folks have like, emergency generators or some shit. They were big into apocalypse survival in the Eighties.”
We waited. The talking and nervous laughter died down, replaced only by the white noise from the TV. I blinked a few times, surprised that my eyes weren’t becoming accustomed to the dark. Even in this basement with no windows, I thought I’d have some night vision. Apparently not.
There’s something ethereal about total, complete darkness. It’s not something many people ever experience in their lives. There’s so much light pollution everywhere you go; in the UK, we have a Dark Sky reserve, a place where you can see a thousand stars, and I know there are places in America where almost no unnatural light reaches, but even then, you’re mostly outside, y’know? There’s the light of the stars, the light reflecting off the moon… this was total, complete darkness. There wasn’t even an LED piercing the night. I have to admit, I sorta liked it. Yeah, I’m goth as fuck, so what.
Josh didn’t, though. I could hear his breathing beside me labouring, catching in his chest. None of us were speaking. Something about the darkness seemed oppressive, impenetrable. I was grateful to have Callie against me, someone else in the isolation. Josh was panicking now, I could tell. I reached out, tried to find his hand. I gripped it, tight. Callie on one side, Josh on the other, me in the middle.
Braden whistled tunelessly. “Any minute now…” he said, his voice a hushed whisper. It seemed right, somehow, in this ebony silence. From behind us, another sound started up. Bubbles, splashing water. The hot tub.
“Anybody there?” Wheeler called out. No answer.
“It’ll just be the hot tub motors starting up,” Braden said quietly. “Power’s coming back on. Right now.”
But it didn’t. I squeezed Josh’s hand. Against my chest, Callie was snoring lightly. I couldn’t help but smile where nobody could see it. “You okay Josh?” I asked. He didn’t reply, just squeezed my hand back, his breathing still irregular.
When the tune started, I thought it was Braden again, this time with a melody. It only took a second to realise that this was no human noise. It sounded like one of those… you know those penny whistle things? The brass recorder-type instrument that sounds absolutely hideous if you can’t play it right.
This was being played right, though. And it was coming through the TV speakers. The occasional crackle of white noise made that clear. Nobody spoke. I strained, recognising the tune as it grew louder. Growing up in Britain, I recognised it; it was similar to the Blue Peter theme, but you know, the proper one, the song that inspired their knock-off. Mike Oldfield did it at some point, albeit not on a penny whistle like this was. The tune grew louder and a chill crept up my spine. I figured it must be the game, and the TV screen still wasn’t working, but where was the rest of the power?
“Fuck is this?” Braden said. Nobody replied. We all just sorta sat there in stunned, frozen silence as this fucking whistle tune got louder and louder, the tempo building. I imagined robotic skeletons capering in the darkness, their bones rattling as they danced their danse macabre. I was reminded of a horrifying sailor automaton I’d been scared by as a girl on a pier arcade back home in England, his paint peeling and one eye rolling loose in his socket as he laughed riotously when you put 10p into the machine. I’m sure this song played from there too.
Only a minute or so had passed, but it felt like an eternity. More instruments had joined the penny whistle now; I’m no musical expert, but it sounded like one of those harpsichord things, and a fiddle maybe. But the penny whistle took precedent, growing faster and shriller and more intolerable until my ears began to throb and ring in the blackness. I froze, the warmth of Callie and Josh keeping me sane. Behind me, I knew I could hear the hot tub splashing again. It was just the motors, I told myself. Just the power coming back on.
With a deafening, cacophonous crescendo, the song hit its finale. As the last note played, a light pierced my eyes. It was Josh. He’d been the only one of us to regain some sense, finally fished out his phone and turned on the display.
The only problem was, Josh was standing by the TV, leaning against the wall.
On instinct, I let go of the hand I was holding, fear rising in my throat. The overhead lights exploded back on. The TV burst into life. The hot tub rumbled away. I turned, horrified, to my right. The couch beside me was empty. Everyone else was still seated. Nobody could’ve moved in the time this had all taken. Plus, everyone looked fairly stunned and shellshocked.
Had Callie somehow reached across my body and gripped my other hand without me feeling her? The position of the hand hadn’t felt that way, but it was dark. This is what I kept telling myself, anyway. Or maybe one of the boys had reached across to me. I knew the distance between Braden and myself was too far, and that Arash and Wheeler would’ve sought comfort in one another. And the hand had been slim, feminine almost; Josh is a small guy, and we’ve joked before about his girly hands. Nothing felt amiss when I’d believed it was Josh.
But it hadn’t been Josh. Josh had been on the other side of the room. I’d seen him there, clearly, illuminated by the light of the phone while I was still holding the hand.
I didn’t say anything about it to the others. I’d been drinking, I’d been inhaling second hand pot smoke, it was dark and weird and we were all getting creeped out. I could’ve imagined it. That’s what I wanted to believe, anyway. And soon, we were laughing and talking and chilling again like nothing had happened.
Then, after a short while, Braden spoke. “Oh shit,” he laughed. “I should probably go check on the party. Make sure they haven’t wrecked everything during the blackout.”
“We can find Eve while we’re at it,” I said. I checked my own phone. It was gone 2 am. That seemed way later than I’d realised. She’d been away for ages. Most likely just didn’t bother to come into the pitch dark guest house during the blackout, I figured.
I woke Callie, and the six of us made our way back to the main house. The party seemed to have died out while we were in the guest house. None of the attendees were around; they’d all ditched. Even the usual hangers-on who you find passed out under a table at the end of every party.
“Must’ve bailed when the power went out,” Braden said, looking out the window at the absence of cars. We patrolled the house for a bit, checking for any stragglers, but found no-one.
“Not sure if the party was a success or not,” Braden quipped.
I was slightly concerned about Eve, but given the events of the night and the power outage, it was entirely plausible that she’d decided to ditch. She’s a bit… flaky, and even though I knew her lust for Braden was pretty major, if she’d found an afterparty or something better to do, she would’ve done so.
We were all wrecked by this point so we just crashed in Braden’s living room, then after six or so hours of sleep, went our separate ways; Arash and Wheeler back to the house they shared with two girls I vaguely know who’d been at the party, Callie back to her dorm on-campus, then Josh and I back to our own hall of residence. As soon as I got in, I greeted my room mate who’d skipped the party to study, then crashed into bed.
I didn’t wake up until 9pm that night. When I eventually crawled out of bed, I checked my phone and saw I had six missed calls and a bunch of texts from Josh. Most of them were the typical ‘checking up on me’ texts he likes to send after I do like, anything ever, but the last one was ‘heard from Eve yet? I haven’t’ so I called Eve. No answer. I left her a voicemail, then sent a text for good measure.
“Call me asap plz xxx”
I went out into the dorm halls, and it was quiet. Eerily so. It brought back memories of sitting there in the darkness the night before, if not for the hum and glug of the water dispenser in the common area. I took a stroll around campus to clear my head, saw a few people, but that too was surprisingly quiet for a Saturday night. I figured some event was going on that I’d forgotten about. I texted Josh, he had no idea either, and came to meet me in the quad where we just wandered around and chilled for a while. I dragged Josh along to Callie’s dorm, remembering her room number from the night before when we’d walked her home, and knocked her up cos I wanted to get her cellphone number.
“My roommate’s not around if you wanna come in,” Callie said, pointedly glancing at me rather than Josh, but her heart didn’t sound in it. She looked super pale and sick, so I told her to get some rest and that we’d catch up on Monday.
Sunday, I had a lot of studying to do and I spent almost the entire day in my room, only venturing out to the unusually vacant campus cafe for dinner. Normally on a Sunday night this place would be buzzing, but only a handful of students were there, eating solemnly. I shrugged, went back to my room, carried on studying, went to bed.
Monday morning’s class was one of the classes I share with Arash, Wheeler, Josh, Callie and Eve. I walked into an empty lecture hall, blinking in surprise at being the first one there. I was normally one of the last. Arash and Wheeler dragged themselves through the door moments later, followed by Callie, then Josh, who hurried up to me and asked why I’d been ignoring his texts. I told him I’d been studying, but I’d read the texts and knew that, like always, he’d been overly checking up on me to see how I was.
Eve never showed. This worried me. What worried me more was when only two other students in the class of forty three turned up. The lecturer wasn’t best pleased either.
By the time of our second class of the day, we were told that a large number of students had failed to attend college that day, and thus classes were cancelled. The lecturer made a quip about a party at the weekend, and hangovers, and underage drinking, but it was all in good fun.
By Tuesday, it was clear that something was wrong. Not only had the missing students failed to attend college, but nobody was able to get hold of them. The college dean made an announcement. At first it was scolding, angry, but by the end of that day the anger had turned into concern, a concern that the rest of us had began to feel already by that point. We knew plenty of these people, knew how irregular it was for all of them to ditch, and be out of contact. Especially Eve. For all her faults, Eve is fucking diligent about college. She has big aspirations. She never misses a fucking class.
I arranged to meet with Josh, Callie, Arash and Wheeler that night. We got hold of Braden’s number through my roommate, who’d dated him briefly, and he showed up too.
It didn’t take long for us to put two and two together. Every single student who’d been at Braden’s party, save for those of us who’d been holed up in the guest house, had apparently vanished off the face of the earth. At first, you had to laugh, didn’t you? What else could you do?
By Thursday, nearly one hundred students had been officially declared as Missing Persons, my beautiful friend Eve among them. The campus was awash with media, parents, relatives, friends, everyone angry and looking for answers. You’ve probably read about it in the news, although I know they’ve kept the severity of the situation kind of hushed up. That boggles my mind. How the hell do you downplay the disappearance of 78 students?
Reports kept cropping up about a handful of other kids too. Friends of students, people who didn’t attend the college, but most of whom Braden knew had attended his party. We put together a list, to make sure we weren’t just tripping. There were a few question marks of course; gatecrashers, non-attendees, etc, but we managed to use the Facebook event invite to put together a fairly comprehensive picture of just what the fuck had gone on.
There was no denying it. Of all Braden’s party attendees, we were the only ones who remained. Callie really came through here; apparently her dad is the sheriff of our town, and she managed to get copies of the official list of missing people. So we could cross-check and cross-reference everyone. Only one name stuck out as being on the invite list and not on the missing persons list. Jace, apparently, was safe and sound. We managed to get his number and got in touch with him. He seemed pretty hostile at first, and told us that he’d ditched the ‘stupid fucking party’ after he’d left us, and had no idea about what was going on. Then he slammed the phone down on us and hasn’t spoken to any of us since.
This was three months ago. Three months without a word, without a lead. Three months in which many of the people I’ve come to know and love during my time in America have disappeared without a fucking trace. Whenever I think about it, I start to get dizzy. I can’t believe they’re dead, because where the fuck would you hide what eventually totaled 87 bodies? But then if they’re alive… where have they gone?
There has been one proven tragedy since then, though. Two months after the disappearances, Wheeler - Andrew Wheeler - committed suicide in the bathroom of the home he shared with his boyfriend Arash and two girls who are now missing without a trace. He took a load of aspirin and slit his wrists. Arash was the one to find him.
Wheeler had left a note. Arash showed it to us. It was short, brief.
“I want to be under the mountain. I’m sorry.”
Josh and I have drifted apart a little, although I don’t think that’s his choice. He still texts me constantly, every day, asking how I am. But in person, he can’t meet my eye. I think I understand why, and I think that in these troubled times, jealousy is a little petty. But this event brought Callie and I together, and I honestly think we deserve the comfort we find in each other, don’t you? Braden, too, has been a mainstay in my life now. He’s quiet these days, very reserved. I think he blames himself, somehow. It was his party, after all. But how was it his fault? I tell him this, over and over, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He talks about Eve a lot, too. I think something happened between them when they went off to get snacks. They were gone a long time. I think they hooked up, then parted ways to return to us, and that was the last he saw of her. I don’t want to ask him, I don’t want to drag his pain into the light, but that’s the impression I get anyway. Poor Braden.
There is one last thing, and even though it’s subtle, and nothing compared to 87 missing people, this is the part that most chills me to the bone. Apparently, when Arash found his lover Wheeler, dead in the tub, his ipod was plugged into the dock they keep in the bathroom. It was playing a surprisingly jaunty tune over and over. This puzzled Arash, but I don’t think he remembers the night as well as I do. He and Wheeler were very stoned. I don’t think he recognised the tune that was playing on the iPod.
I didn’t hear it, so I can’t be sure. But I think I know what was playing. I believe it was the song we heard through the TV speakers that night, during the blackout. That harsh, piercing whistle strung together into a tune.
I believe it’s the same song that echoes in my ears when I wake up every morning, whistling and whistling, but muffled, echoing across rock and dirt, as if it’s calling to me from somewhere, deep beneath the earth.
I believe that the last song Andrew Wheeler ever heard was The Sailor’s Hornpipe.
If you have any questions, please feel free to ask. If you have any theories, please share them. The police are getting nowhere. I miss my friends. I miss my life.
Submitted January 12, 2017 at 05:17PM by owlcavedev http://ift.tt/2jaFQog nosleep
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