When I was little, my dad taught me how to make paper airplanes. He made up this goofy song to go along with it, which still gets stuck in my head sometimes:
“Half and corners vertically, edges in the center, see? Half again, but now toward you, wings go down and line up, too. Tape the bottom, and go play, Do you know how to make paper airplanes?”
I still remember those days of my childhood fondly, mostly because they’re one of only happy ones I have to remember my dad by. He died of kidney failure last year, which wasn’t shocking. The man had been an alcoholic for most of his life. Sure, he had some dry spells here and there, but for the most part he was either on a drunken rampage or blacked out in his lounger.
I hate to say it, but I saw his death as a blessing - until I saw the effect it had on my mom. She must have given me her stubbornness because she never divorced dad, even though I always wished she would. I guess she had some sort of hope that the man she married was still inside of him somewhere. I never had the heart to tell her otherwise.
Anyway, mom declined pretty fast. So fast, in fact, that within a week of dad’s death I ended up having to move her into the spare bedroom at my place. That was fine at first, but lately it’s been getting a little… scary. That’s the only way to describe it, really.
See, I have this app that records sound at night. I specifically downloaded it to see if I snore. Instead, I found out that I talk in my sleep. Usually it’s mundane mutterings, occasionally something funny. It’s become something I enjoy listening to while I’m waking up in the morning… until this morning.
As usual, I woke up to my alarm and opened up the app. Normally I expect to see about 25 recordings, most of them just white noise or me turning over in my sleep. However, this morning there was only one recording. As soon as I pressed play, my heart instantly sunk into my stomach.
I’ve attached the audio here, as evidence.
It’s mom, singing the paper airplane song. Her voice is all distorted, though, and I’m… not even sure what to make of it, to be honest. It’s not even possible that she knows the song, anyway, because she was out of town the week dad taught it to me. Besides, I always wake up when mom does - she’s never woken up without making some sort of noise.
I don’t know, I guess the reason I’m writing this is because I’m really freaked out and I’d like to get some kind of clarity on this whole thing. I mean I’m not just going crazy, right?
I think I’m going to set up some sort of hidden camera inside the house, just in case. Once I do, I’ll update.