Hi everyone!
My name is Maddison but the only person who actually calls me that is my little sister when she wants to piss me off. I usually go by Maddi or Mads. I’m 19 years old, and trying to get used to being back home after being away this past year for my first year of university. Parents, am I right? The last thing I wrote was a research paper where I had to get to a very high word count, so I apologize if I get a little wordy.
That’s not why I’m here though. I’ll get to that. But to understand everything, I think you need to hear this from the beginning. Otherwise I’m just some teenager over-reacting. And I promise you, this is real.
My entire life, I have had a pretty kick ass, if benign superpower. When I was really little, my parents started to notice that I was really drawn to white noise. Especially when they ran my bath, or when it rained really heavily. I would sit where I could hear it and wordlessly hum along to music only I could hear. They thought it was pretty adorable, at first. That was until I started sneaking into the bathroom and turning on the bathtub water to just let it run. That was an expensive water bill. Not knowing what else to do, they put a latch on the bathroom door that I couldn’t reach and figured that was that. Except, of course, it wasn’t.
I don’t remember this part, although it has become family lore as only this kind of story can. It gets told regularly at family gatherings as an amusing anecdote as an example of how precocious I was at such a young age, usually accompanied with a joke about my strong personality. Anyway, when I was around 3 years old, I was at the grocery store with my Mom, when a huge thunderstorm swept through our town. The rain was so intense you could hear it inside the store over the music and the sounds of people shopping. I was standing next to my Mom one moment, and the next, I was gone. Of course, she freaked out, started calling my name, looking for me everywhere. Concerned shoppers and employees began to look for me, until somebody told my Mom that they thought they saw a kid outside the store (why they just walked by me I’ll never know). My Mom found me humming and dancing, just outside the doors of the store, as the rain crashed down in sheets across the parking lot, perfectly happy in my own little musical world.
If it hasn’t quite become clear yet, I hear music in white noise.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned a lot more about my superpower. It’s not all white noise. The clearest, loudest signal I get is when I’m around white noise that is coming from a natural source. Think rain, waterfalls, that kind of thing. Household noises, like water running, I get a much fainter signal, but definitely enough to be aware of and enjoy the music. Extra perk is I’ve never had to put music on while I’ve been showering! Completely man-made white noise I get nothing from, so white noise machines, television or radio static, are just white noise. I don’t have any control over what music I hear, and I don’t hear it clearly, mostly just the melody. If there’s somebody singing I can tell that they are there, but not what they’re saying.
It wasn’t until I was about 10 years old that I kept it mostly to myself. My family kind of knew, but we had never explicitly discussed it.
My family is pretty artsy, with my Mom teaching piano and violin and my dad being a high school art teacher. So it’s no surprise that with the music around me all the time from different sources that I was a pretty musical kid myself. I was in grade 5 when The Incident happened. The Incident shaped my life through middle school, and to some extent high school as well, although by then it had mostly become an urban legend. Although I went to a public school, the community itself was very religious and most social events that happened outside of school usually revolved around the church. We were already on the outs with most of our neighbours as we didn’t regularly attend church, only attending around holidays or big events like the summer jubilee. And that was mostly so we could pitch in to help, not for religious reasons. But I digress, let’s get to The Incident.
It was mid-October, and unseasonably hot. The beginning of October had been cool and rainy, and the leaves were blowing off the trees and sticking to things. But now, the sun shone and the dry leaves collected in low-lying areas, perfect for us kids to run through, kicking them up and laughing like maniacs. We all hoped that it would stay this warm for Halloween, so we wouldn’t have to wear long pants and jackets under our costumes. Spoiler alert: it did not, and we did. I was sitting at the top of the playground watching the younger kids run wild. I was in grade 5, the oldest grade in the school, and considered myself above such childish antics. I hummed a song to myself, something I heard in the shower and wasn’t 100% sure I liked, but it was stuck in my head. Another girl from my class, Emily, climbed up beside me. Emily wasn’t the most popular girl in grade 5, but she wanted to be. She tried very hard to be cool, convincing her parents to buy clothes and shoes that ‘the cool kids’ wore, which only caused them to ridicule and ostracize her more, accusing her of being a poser. One day near the beginning of the school year she had worn make-up, which did not go over well with the kids she so badly wanted to befriend. She had washed it off before first recess, blaming her red-rimmed, puffy eyes on rubbing them too hard when she was washing her makeup off. I felt bad for her, and we were kind of friends. Maybe more like frenemies.
“What’s that song? I heard you humming it earlier, too.” “I don’t know,” I said, shrugging at her. “What do you mean you don’t know? Did you make it up?” She looked at me, brow furrowed. “Nooooo…” I hesitated. I didn’t want her to ask more questions. A little voice in my head told me that Emily is definitely not somebody I should be telling my secrets to. She was definitely not guy-in-the-chair material. “So where did you hear it? It’s weird,” her lip was curling up into a slight sneer. I knew I had to do something or I would become a target. “I don’t really know, honestly Emily. But how about I teach it to you?”
It was the only thing I could think of. I had been around my mom teaching music enough to have some idea about how to help her learn the notes. She was actually a pretty good singer. We spent the rest of the recess practicing and then humming the song together, or using non-sensical sounds in the place of words. It was fun, and Emily was being nice. The bell rang, and we went inside, and I totally forgot all about teaching Emily the song.
Lunch time came, and I was accosted by girls who wanted me to teach them the song. I was absolutely flabbergasted. I did not want this attention, especially when it came to my music. It had always been my thing, my little escape. Now it felt like everyone wanted a piece of something that felt private. But what could I do? If you’ve ever been a pre-teen girl, you know that in this situation, you either go along with everyone or become the new #1 person to hate. I told myself that it was just one song. What could it hurt?
And so, over the next couple of days, I taught pretty much all of the grade 5 girls, and even a couple of boys, this song. Everyone was humming it, dancing around. Kids that age can create a unique kind of hysteria over the strangest things. Anyway, it started to feel really nice, all the attention. Kids who never even knew my name wanted to sit beside me. I was constantly surrounded by friends. I started listening to the music I heard for the next song I could teach my new friends. The next week, I got invited to my first ever sleepover. Emily had been riding the wave of popularity with me, because she had been the first person to learn the song. So she invited me and several of the popular girls over. Being so close to Halloween, we were going to watch scary movies and gorge ourselves on junk food. Emily hinted it would be extra cool if I had a new song to teach them.
I was so excited I didn’t even care we were going to watch scary movies, which was something I hadn’t ever really done. I had no idea how I would react. But I didn’t care. I packed my bag with my Happy Bunny pyjamas fresh from a trip to Hot Topic and my sleeping bag and was all set. I didn’t notice at the time, but my parents were a little worried. It was my first sleep over after all. My little sister was both jealous and excited, practically running circles around me. This was going to be the best night ever!
My mom dropped me off at 5:30pm at Emily’s house. I was the first one there. My mom walked me to the door, so she could introduce herself to Emily’s parents. I was so embarrassed, I just waved quickly at her and scampered off with Emily so she could show me the rec room in the basement where we’d be sleeping. I couldn’t help but notice the multiple crosses and cross-stitches with Bible quotes throughout the house. Emily’s family were very religious, and it showed. But downstairs the rec room was huge, with a big TV and DVD player that also played Blu-Ray. This was going to be epic!
I know, all of this build up, I bet you’re just waiting for my bubble to burst. Well, burst it did. With a sense of anger and self-righteousness that only the devout can muster.
Emily was telling me about the movies we were going to watch. I could feel the apprehension growing, but I kept telling myself that I would be okay. The phone rang upstairs, and we could hear the muffled voice of Emily’s mom. She didn’t sound happy, at all. Then she called Emily upstairs.
“Be right back!” Emily chirped as she scampered up the stairs.
I sat there in silence, trying not to eavesdrop but there was nothing really for me to do, other than look around the room at the couch, TV unit, and computer desk. I could hear Emily whine, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying. Her mother sounded angry. Then it went quiet. A few minutes later, Emily came downstairs, looking pale. She plopped down beside me. “Nobody else is coming,” she said, not looking at me. I was stunned. Was this all a set up to make us feel bad? Were the cool kids playing a mean joke?
“What happened?” I asked, disappointed. “Maddie, where did you hear that song?” She asked, looking at me from behind her bangs, eyes wide. My heart dropped. I suddenly realized that the failed slumber party was somehow my fault. I swallowed hard. “Why?” “Kelly’s Mom called my Mom. She said that… that the song that you taught us is actually a song she heard on the radio. But,” she hesitated, her breaths coming quickly as she told me that the outside world had discovered my secret. “She said that there is no way that you could have known that song last week. She said… she said that it was only released on the 23rd. You taught us before that, on the 16th. Maddie, that’s 6 whole days before it was released! How? How did you know a song that well before it came out?”
I realized now that her behaviour wasn’t because she was upset. She was afraid. She was afraid of me.
I stared at her. I didn’t know how to respond. I thought about lying, and saying something about a relative in the music industry but I didn’t feel right lying, and besides, I knew the truth would come out eventually. But, I didn’t want to tell her. So I stayed silent.
“You’re a freak.”
It was like a slap to the face. I recoiled, looking at her in shock. Still a part of me searched her face, hoping to see a trace of humour, hoping that it was all just a terrible joke, that the other girls were coming and we would just laugh this off.
“Get out of my house. My Mom called yours, she’s coming to get you. You can wait outside.”
I fought the tears as I packed up my sleeping bag in silence. I would not cry in front of Emily. I knew that as soon as I left she would be on the phone, telling everyone what I freak I was, and if I cried, it would just be that much worse.
As soon as I was done, I trudged up the stairs. Emily’s mom stood at the top of the stairs, cross clutched in her hand.
“Cursed child. Satan spawn,” she muttered under her breath as I went to their front door as quickly as possible. I got my shoes on, and the second I was out the door it was slammed behind me. I could hear the deadbolt slide into place, and the chain too, for good measure. I had no idea what to do. This was my first real experience of rejection, and it was truly bitter. I was heartbroken and terrified.
My Mom pulled up, and I forced myself to walk to the car, incredibly aware that there were at least 2 sets of eyes burning holes into the back of my head. I slipped into the passenger seat, and as soon as we were out of the driveway, I burst into tears. I was so confused, so afraid, so alone.
See, the thing was, at that point, I hadn’t admitted to myself the true nature of my gift. The music that I heard was actually, sometimes, music that hadn’t been released yet. Well more than sometimes. And I wasn’t hearing just music, sometimes there were voices between the music. Sometimes it was even just voices. The odd time, it was a voice speaking at an odd rhythm.
I was hearing radio broadcasts. From the future. And now everyone knew, to some extent. I could never make out what anyone was saying. But, there it was. I was a freak, no doubt about it. As a 10 year old girl, I was crushed.
When I got home, my Dad gave me one of his giant bear hugs, and I lost it. I sobbed, my entire body shaking, snot and tears smearing his shirt, and he just held me. I felt relieved that I could admit what I was, that it wasn’t a self imposed secret anymore, and I felt guilty for being relieved. I felt guilty I hadn’t been open with my family about it. But I hadn’t been open with myself about it either. I was ashamed of who I was. I knew what I had lost, socially. I had yet to realize that the repercussions would affect more that just me, that my entire family would be targeted, ostracized, bullied, and excluded.
To my parents’ credit, they didn’t push me. I knew they were there to talk to, as I hid away in my room that weekend. I came out for meals, shovelling food into mouth as quickly as possible and then slinking back to my room. After lunch on Sunday, there was a quiet knock on my door. I didn’t open it, but I didn’t stop it from opening it, either.
I expected my mom or my dad to be standing there, coming to tell me that two days is quite enough and that I needed to pull myself together. Instead, my little sister Lily slowly opened the door and peeked in. She was 7 at the time, but wise beyond her years. Her superpower is being empathetic and kind to an immeasurable degree.
“Mads? Can I come in?” Her quiet voice was soft, hopeful. “Ya, okay,” I said, secretly glad for the company. “I-I brought you something. I hope that’s okay,” she almost whispered, as she held out a piece of paper.
I took it, and tears welled in my eyes. It was a picture Lily had drawn of the two of us. A bright yellow sun shone down on our smiling faces as we held hands, multicoloured flowers surrounding us. In her best 7 year old printing she had written “I love you Maddie!” With a big red heart.
When she saw the tears she looked so alarmed.
“Oh! No Maddie I drew it to make you feel better! Don’t cry!” She said as she scampered over to where I was laying on the bed. “You did cheer me up, little bug. A lot. I love you too.” Her small, sweet face broke into a smile, and I could feel some of the sadness fade away. “Is your art stuff still out?” I asked her, a small smile playing at the corners of my mouth. “Mmm-mm,” she said, as she nodded solemnly. I sighed. 2 days was quite enough. “Want to go draw together?”
Lily’s already big eyes grew huge and hopeful. She smiled and nodded with such enthusiasm that she almost fell over. I slid off my bed, and we went downstairs together.
After that, things were rough for my entire family. We were no longer welcome at the church, unless my parents agreed to send me away to a camp that would help me “get the demon out”. Obviously, my parents were dead-set against that. Luckily, my Dad taught in the high school in the next town over, but my Mom’s students all cancelled. We got glares, and even sometimes called names when we were out shopping. Lily was teased in class. It was a giant, awful mess, and it was all my fault. I felt awful.
Shortly after The Incident, we had a family meeting. We discussed what was going on, how we were being treated. We talked about moving, but ultimately decided to table that decision for a few months, to see if things would calm down. But the more important part of that meeting was me finally talking to my family about my superpower. I call it my superpower now, thanks to my parents and Lily, as they were the ones who started calling it that, right away. At first it made me feel silly, but eventually I grew to think of my ability that way. They listened to me, and didn’t judge me or force me to tell them anything I wasn’t comfortable with. They didn’t call me a liar or question anything I said. This conversation set the stage and made it so much easier when I came out later in my early teens, but that’s a story for another time.
Since then I’ve been able to figure out some nuances of the things that I hear. There’s the usual music stations, where they play a few songs and then somebody talks for a bit, occasionally there’re commercials. There are news channels, the kind that have traffic and weather ‘on the ones’ and have a pretty consistent cycle of news. There’s talk radio, which has its own calming rhythm to the way the folks speak. And then there’s the one that took me forever to identify: number stations. I don’t get them often, but when I do I always feel weird and creeped out. It seems like I get radio broadcasts from all over the world, and each language has it’s own rhythm and cadence. I don’t have any control over what I hear, but if it’s something I don’t like (number stations, country music) I can usually reset by getting away from the white noise for 10 minutes or so, and then going back.
So, it all sounds hunky-dory, happily ever after, right? Well… it was. Until about a week ago. And that’s why I’m here.
About a week ago, the radio stations that I was hearing started to have a lot more talking, and barely any music. The voices, at first, were serious, measured, and constant. The rhythm felt like they were giving instructions. This was happening across the board, in several different languages. The only thing that seemed unaffected were the number stations. I was hearing a lot more broadcasts, because I was worried, so I was running water a lot more often, just to check. A day or so later, the voices changed, filled with a deep sorrow I could hear even though I couldn’t hear the words. Some stations had just gone to playing music, with nobody talking at all. At this point I was checking things even more regularly because it was all just so weird. It was clear something bad was happening. I really wasn’t prepared for what came next.
Soon, every station played what sounded like an emergency broadcast on repeat. I tried so hard to hear the words, straining and pushing myself to exhaustion. But it felt like the harder I listened, the further away and more muffled the words became. This became the norm for 2 days straight.
Now, there’s nothing. Silence.
I’ve checked in what feels like a million times. I’ve tried different sources of white noise. My whole life has been consumed by trying to find something, anything, to indicate that there is some radio broadcast somewhere. Lily has been helping, trying to think of new sources, or driving with me to different water falls in our area. But I haven’t heard a single thing.
There was never any exact timeframe for when I heard a song for the first time to when it came out. That’s another thing Lily has helped me with. We have tried to pin down a timeline for when I first hear a song to when it actually comes out. We’ve spent hours trying to remember details, and my parents have pitched in where they can. We have figured that a lot if it is odds, as in what are the odds that a new song is playing while I happen to be near a waterfall or taking a shower? Sometimes it’s days, sometimes it’s months between when I hear it in the white noise and when it gets released. We’ve come to the conclusion that there’s no way of knowing. But we figured out that the longest I remember is 3 months.
Still, all I hear is white noise.
I think I heard the end of the world. And there’s no way to tell when it’s going to happen, just that it’s coming. So hug your loved ones, and prepare yourself. Because whatever it is, it’s looming.
I’m so sorry.