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| Category: Strange Occurences |
Date published: October 7, 2004 |
The recording of my poetry was going fine on that day. I had already finished one entire side of a ninety-minute tape. Like so many times before when I recited my poetry into a small recorder, I had an interruption. Needing to erase the partly recited poem, I pushed rewind and recorded silence into it to overwrite. I then went back to listen to make sure that all had been erased before I began recording again. It was then that I heard the voice that sent chills up my spine. On the tape was the voice of a woman speaking in a foreign language. I listened intently as she spoke. In parts, she sounded angry and her voice grew louder and more intense with every word. She sounded Japanese, but I couldn't be certain. The first thing I thought of was sabotage. Someone must be sending messages by way of blank tapes, or were they just sending hate messages about the United States? Perhaps, even worse, they were subliminal messages intent on corrupting the unsuspecting mind. I couldn't be certain, but I knew that I had fallen upon something that could be very serious. Immediately, I ceased my recording and placed the recorder and tape in a safe place until I had the chance to get it to the proper authorities.
My mind couldn't rest, the woman's voice continued to resound in my ears. What could she possibly be saying on there, I wondered? I reached for an unopened Sony Tape and read the label on the back. The tapes were made in New Jersey USA, Canada and in Japan. My first suspicion had been that the voice on the tape was Japanese; that must be it. I have to contact someone, I thought. Perhaps Sony or the police...or better yet, the FBI. I would need an interpreter but they would know of one.
When my friend Judy phoned, I told her of my discovery and played the tape with the woman's voice back to her. "I would contact Sony," she said, "but don't send them the original." Good advice, don't send the original. I wouldn't be able to trust them; they may fear a lawsuit and destroy the evidence. I attempted to make a copy of the woman's message, but couldn't pick up the voice on the stereo, only on my small tape recorder. I would have to deliver the tape in person to someone I could trust.
My mind was reeling, I was certain I had discovered something serious and then I recalled something that sent my mind in higher gear. I had recorded a song, me that I had written onto a different tape and had played it back to my daughter Renee over the phone. "I could hardly concentrate on the song, Mom," she said, "there's a woman's voice in the background that doesn't sound like you." Oh, my goodness, she must have been on that tape too, I thought. I knew there were no other voices in the room when I recorded that song. I record in my private bathroom with the door closed. If you heard me sing, you would understand why this is necessary. That packet of tapes must have been sabotaged, too, I thought. This was more serious than I had previously thought.
When my husband returned home from work that night, I told him of what I had found. After he rested, I took out the small recorder and the "secured" mystery tape. He listened carefully and then said, "Give me the tape and I'll bring it to Doug P------, he knows people in the FBI."
"You'll have to bring the recorder with you," I said, "the voice isn't heard when the tape is placed into a regular stereo." I let him listen to the woman's voice. He listened intently and then asked. "Do you have anything recorded on the other side?" "Yes, my poetry." I could see a light bulb coming on in his head, but not in mine, I was still thinking of terrorists. "Play that back to me again," he said, and so I did. "That's YOU," he said, his voice sounding incredible, "that cheap recorder is bleeding your poems through from the other side and playing them back on this side backwards. That voice is YOU." "Oops! So sorry...NEVER MIND," I said, walking away red faced and with my tail between my legs.
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In My Own Words: Out-of-the-Ordinary Experiences
