Audible Illusions Novels & Stories

I don’t know who cut their faces and I don’t know why it was cut but the men in the picture really look familiar to me. I was staring at the photo when I heard a sound again and it started to irritate me again because it was echoing in my whole room. I don't know if it is really echoing or because I am just stoned. I covered my ears and dropped the photo accidentally. I sat beside my cabinet when the sound was getting louder and louder. It is like a frequency to my ear and then the sound suddenly stops and my room is quiet again. I looked around and I suddenly heard the “Aaaaaahhh” sound again. I looked at the mirror that was facing me and I saw the men standing behind me and they’re inside

I dared to hope it had been coincidence. Then his ears tilted back, his head turned deliberately toward my voice, and I realized with a jolt that the timing was too perfect, the motion too intentional. I gasped, the sound sharp in the small room. “No. No, no, no. This is not happening.” My mind raced. My hands tightened on the blankets. The rational part of me—everything I had built as a healer, as a human trained to trust in what I could see and measure—screamed to flee. To call this madness something explainable: auditory hallucination, exhaustion, too many nights alone with dangerous creatures.

Adrian, I'm afraid you'll have to come with me. The engine noise was deafening. Aside from that, one naughty hand acts arbitrarily. There were numerous rings that made my skin cold when my hand touched the skin of my stomach. ****

I called out, a sense of urgency in my voice, as I instinctively moved in the direction of the sound. From the depths of the bathroom, Guila’s voice echoed back to me, breaking the stillness. “I’m in the shower,” she shouted, her words reaching me like an echo through the tiled walls. It was in that instance of realization that I connected the dots: the auditory sensation I had picked up was indeed the rhythmic symphony of water cascading onto the bathroom floor.

I feel like I'm floating in the void, I can't hear anything but a woman calling my name. "Akwright! Killian ! Killian ! Tyr!" She said the reason my ears are bleeding today is because of her calling my name. I tried to cover it but nothing happens i can still hear the woman's voice. "Stop it! Stop it!" If I scream again and again now it's like I'm in an illusion but it's like I'm not. i think this is the reality with illusion of places. "Waaaa !! Hahahahaha!!" When a woman laughs at me, I feel like my whole body is about to explode.

The air grew colder, a faint mist seeping from the cracks in the black stone. Kael noticed the shift first. The world had grown too quiet. The silence deepened—not the natural stillness of night, but an absence, like sound itself had been devoured. Then he saw it. Shadows rippling across the walls, though there was no light to cast them. They bent and twisted unnaturally, their shapes stretching long, too long, as though reaching toward the party. Liora let out a stifled gasp. “They’re moving.” Brann raised his weapon instinctively. “Illusions.”

It’s impossible, familiar in a way that reaches back further than memory should allow, and every rational part of his brain insists he must be hearing things, some trick of exhaustion and adrenaline layering a ghost over a stranger’s voice. Eli’s throat constricts, turning completely dry. His breath hitches in his chest, his mind frantically rejecting the auditory information hitting his ears. It isn’t possible. It must be a trick. A soundboard, a voice synthesizer, a psychological game designed to break his focus before the kill. “Who are you?” Eli demands in a tight voice, strain showing in every syllable as he blinks rapidly through the dim light, trying to parse the silhouette standing i

The temperature plunged instantly, the heat of the day replaced by an icy, piercing stillness. That was when the first Mirage hit. It wasn't a visual trick of light and heat. It was an Acoustic Mirage. The wind blowing over the crest of a massive dune suddenly shifted its pitch. The whistling sound of the sand transformed into a high-fidelity broadcast, echoing inside my skull with the force of a live studio feed.

I grabbed the stolen time he had hoarded like gold. And I ripped it out. Nergal’s mouth opened. The sound was wrong. It was auditory trauma—the auditory texture of a building undergoing structural collapse. A rhythmic, high-pitched shrieking that made my eardrums pop and my teeth rattle in their sockets. Pressure waves from the scream hit my face like physical blows.

I tested the microphone but there is no vibration with my voice. Until I felt something wet coming from my nose. I hold my nose and I saw blood. I wipe it through my gown. I looked around and then all of a sudden I was agape in sudden terror. My hands and feet were numb from fear being pumped through my veins. Right in front of me, we’re several or thousands of snakes hissing and slithering. There are no other people around except me. How can it be possible? I stared at my finger and I saw the snake engrave from the ring. It moves and bites my finger until I screamed out loud.