I woke up at 3 a.m. to get water.

At 3 a.m., I heard my son Nolan’s voice asking me to turn off his light, but he was away camping. Heart pounding, I checked his room—empty, bed made, no sign of intrusion. The voice felt too real to be a dream. Unable to sleep, I confided in my neighbor, Mrs. Darla, who also heard Nolan’s voice that night. Searching his room, I found a dusty tape recorder in his closet playing his voice: “Mom, can you turn off the light?” Shocked, I questioned Nolan, who knew nothing. Suspecting his friend Cedric, I confronted him. He admitted it was a prank; they’d

recorded it and hid it, but swore he didn’t activate it. Unsettled, I told my husband, Tomas, who suggested it was a wake-up call to cherish our family. When Nolan returned, I hugged him tightly, grateful for the reminder of what matters most—love and presence—sparked by a strange, unsettling moment.