|prologue|
I stared at the package on my bed. I never got packages; the last one I got was on my twelfth birthday. Shrugging, I reached for the box and carefully carried it to my desk. Reaching for my pen-knife I cut open the cardboard and peered inside. Just a bunch of boring old tapes. There was something weird about these tapes though; on each side of the tapes were numbers scribbled in blue ink. One to thirteen. I scrambled round my room searching for a cassette player. I didn't have one.
"Mum!" I called down the stairs.
"Yes, honey!"
"Where's your Walkman?"
"In my room, why?"
"Thanks!"
Sprinting to her room I began to search for the Walkman. It was under her bed. Gripping the silver cassette player in my hands, I traced the neat handwriting on the back.
'Property of Anne Styles.'
I returned to my room and popped in the first tape. Tape number one.
Hello everyone, this is Louis Tomlinson.
No.
I bet you're wondering why you've received these tapes.
It can't be.
Well, you should be scared cause what I'm about to tell you is potentially going to ruin your life.
This is impossible.
Louis is dead.
Hey bæs
I'm really excited for this story so you should be too. 💃