A Whisper That Went Unheard Novels & Stories

The whispers didn’t stop. They never really did, not even when the lab buzzed with fluorescent lights and the scent of coffee and latex gloves masked everything unnatural. The voices curled under my skin like smoke—soft, persistent, and impossible to ignore. Sometimes I caught pieces of words, names I didn’t recognize, hymns in a language I couldn’t understand. But most of the time, it was just... noise. A sound like breathing too close to my ear. Always there. Always watching.

Whispering. “Run.”

I remained oblivious for several minutes - or a thousand years, there is no telling - before I finally allowed the deafening sound of their whispers into my mind. It is not one this time, but many, and these are not the same as the one that drew me this close to oblivion. The whispers are fingertips clawing their way into the blank slate that is my soul. They are inside me, yet they are all around me, muttering in incoherent spates. It puts my senses on edge. Whenever they speak, they rush throughout my body like the touch of static. I cannot ignore them, but I can only stare into nothing, listening. The voices continue. They do not seem to speak to me, but rather to one another. I do not ev

The look of disbelief spread across her face, before being replaced by a dazed look, reminding me of a deer caught in the headlights. The whispers picked up, and I started hearing them, even from my distance. “How can she be so heartless?” “I always knew she was a bitch, but I didn’t know she could go so far. It is disgusting.” “Did you record it? I managed to get a little. I am sharing it everywhere.” The whispers soon got even loud enough that I couldn’t pick them up again, and my feet started moving when one of the guests got close enough to push her and did, causing Whitney to stumble backwards.

“ Meara!” The whispers started again, soft but notable. I tensed, my eyes snapping open. I scanned the field, but there was no one in sight. The sound seemed to come from the tree itself, from the rustling of its leaves. I pressed my palms against the rough bark and closed my eyes, focusing on the whispers. " Come... find... me..." The words were faint but distinct. My heart raced. Was I losing my mind, or was there something more to these whispers? I stood up, brushing the dirt off my jeans, and took a few steps back. The whispers grew louder, more insistent.

But it didn't last long, my thoughts were interrupted by the chain of whispers. I couldn't keep running from them forever but how was I supposed to face this fear? I kept my eyes closed but instead of blocking the sounds, I started focusing on them. The whispers were getting louder. I tried to block all the sounds around me and kept listening to one particular sound. There were no longer 10 voices saying something together over and over again. Just as the clouds part to reveal a cold, endless sky, the chorus of voices faded one by one, until only a single, hollow whisper remained: *You were never meant to be here.*

Barely audible beneath the applause. Barely noticeable beneath the noise. But unmistakable. My breath caught. He did not seem to hear it. No one else reacted. It was just for me. A whisper in the edges of reality. Not intrusive. Not commanding. Soft. Content. Final mission: complete.

The first whisper came softly, almost politely, like someone leaning close and murmuring behind her ear. “They’re here.” Ines froze. The room felt suddenly smaller, the walls pressing inward. She scanned the corners, the ceiling, the floorboards. Nothing moved—but the whisper repeated, more insistent now, dripping with urgency. “They’ve been waiting.” Her hands trembled as she pressed them to her ears, trying to block the sound, but it seeped through anyway, sinking into her bones. The whispers multiplied, weaving themselves into a chorus of voices, each one distinct, each one demanding attention. One was high and brittle, like glass breaking, another low and guttural, vibrating with menace.

When William hurried back to the apartment, the place was pitch black. He called my name twice. No response. In that instant, his heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. Alarm bells screamed in his head. He started frantically calling my phone. The first call went to voicemail. The second, the phone was off. By the last attempt, the number was no longer in service. He switched to our chat and sent a string of question marks. None of them delivered. His fingers trembled. He scrolled to the very top of our conversation and finally opened the voice message from three days ago, the one he had never bothered to listen to.

“Sometimes it sounds like one person talking directly to me, but then the words stretch strangely after they leave, like there are other voices buried underneath the first one.” Natasha shook her head immediately. “No. Don’t focus on that. Focus on me instead.” “I’m trying,” I admitted quietly, but even saying that felt dishonest because part of me kept listening no matter how badly I wanted to stop. The whispers had changed after the lights exploded. Before, they sounded incomplete because the words kept fading apart before fully forming. Now every sentence felt stronger, sharper, like something had finally forced open a door that had only been cracked before. And worst of all, the voice no