…or Electronic Voice Phenomenon, if you will. I first heard of it in William Gibson’s book “Pattern Recognition”: the lead character’s mother becomes obsessed with trying to “hear” messages from her husband who was lost during 9-11. It seems the interpretation of the soundfile is souly up to the listener, hearing what they want to hear. Pretty much like ghost writing, like my Italian Grandma use to do (she claimed to speek to a small child and wrote in the most curious handwriting when answering herself).
Right now I am all freaked out alone in my house listening to the fish tank filter, wind on the skylight and furnace whisper to me from the basement. I was looking for some reviews on White Noise (all of them saying “dont bother”) and stumbled upon www.aaevp.com. I’ve listened to their audio library and cant stop the creeping gooseflesh up and down my legs.
As a kid I was obsessed with alien abduction, Bigfoot and ghost photography. I would scour our small town’s library for all and any books on the subject and would work myself into such a frenzy that I would be sleeplessly freaked out for days. I use stare into our TV in hopes to see a spirit appear over my shoulder in the inky blackness of the idiot tube.
Right now as I type this, I am feeling that same anxiety after listening to some of the audio files on aaevp.
Its like I am a kid again and I am the only one awake in our rambling huge house in sleepy backwater Brockville. One summer night, I had churned myself into such a state after scouring over Sasquatch photos (the one of the guy in the ape suit looking back at the camera two frames before disappearing into the woods) that I was frozen to the bed listening to every bump, creak and groan the house would make. I hit the lights, got up and threw my legs over the side of the bed and looked down to the open book on the floor… open to the drawings Betty Hill had made of her alien captors, precursor to the X-Files “Greys”.
I can tell you I didnt sleep for days and that I nearly crapped the bed in fear of leaving my room to go down the long dark hallway to the loo.
Eventually I stopped looking at that stuff, loosing my faith in the otherworlds. But right now I swear to you I can hear mumbling as the fan on my CPU churns out messages from the afterlife, and I am dreading the climb down from the attic, the chores before bed and the lights out before closing my bedroom door.
GOING TO BED NOW!