Story Time: Was That a Real Cry or a Song? You Tell Me.

So, one day I decided I wanted to walk over to my sister’s apartment. It usually takes me about 20 minutes to get to her and let me tell you—it was a beautiful day. The sun was out, the breeze was nice, and I was just enjoying every bit of it. I left my house and started walking the usual path, the sidewalk, toward her place.

Now, I’ve been in this community pretty much all my life, so of course I knew a lot of people along the way. That meant every couple steps, someone wanted to stop and talk. You know how that goes, “Hey, how you been?” “How your mama doing’?” And I don’t mind that one bit. I honestly don’t even know if it really took 20 minutes because I was too busy having conversations and catching up with folks.

I had a few dollars in my pocket, so I stopped by the store and grabbed some snacks. I already knew what my sister liked, so I figured we’d munch on something while we caught up.

Now I’m at the entryway of her apartment complex. They had a guard station, but truth be told, that guard was never there. Back then, it wasn’t even a gated community, so I could walk in and out without needing a gate key.

Her apartment was all the way in the back, and I had to pass four complexes to get to her unit. As I walked past the second complex, I heard it—crying. Loud crying. At first, I thought, “Uh oh, somebody must’ve gotten in trouble.” I couldn’t tell if it was one kid or two. Sounded like someone had their window open.

With every step, the crying started to fade, and I kept thinking, “Dang, what could someone have done to be getting a whooping like that?” See, my generation knew about whooping. And back then, a whooping didn’t just happen out the blue, you got warnings first. A talk. Maybe even a second or third chance. But when those didn’t work? You already knew.

This was also the time when calling the police wasn’t really something people did for discipline. I was lucky—never got whooped by my parents, only my teachers. So, hearing that sound brought back a certain kind of memory.

Anyway, I finally made it to my sister’s place. We chilled, ate our snacks, and talked. Before I left, I told her about what I heard. She just smiled. See, my sister is nine years older than me, so she knew about whooping's. Not so much the beatings, but definitely the whooping's.

After a few hours, I don’t even know how long, really, I headed back the same way I came. Passed the same complex. And guess what? I heard the crying again. This time, there was a woman sitting out on the porch, just looking at me while I stood there with a confused look on my face.

I mean… there’s no way somebody’s been getting a whooping for hours, right?

She looked at me like she didn’t know what I was talking about. Or maybe she did.

So, here’s where y’all come in—do you think it could’ve been a song? Like, is there a song out there that sounds like someone crying loud and real like that? If so, what’s the name of it?

And if not… what do you think was going on?

Because no, this wasn’t a dream. This is based on a true story.