Audible Illusions Novels & Stories

I’d managed to refurnish it and make my little historical dwelling quite cozy by way of frequent visits to thrift shops and lawn sales. I rolled onto my back and closed my eyes. What just happened? Had I actually heard Geoffrey’s words in my head? It sounded so real. His lips never moved, I’m certain of it. No one else at the table seemed disturbed by his statement. It wasn’t just imaginary thoughts popping up, was it? No…I’d actually heard his voice loud and clear in my head. No one could have convinced me differently. His masculine voice was deep and angry. Was he a ventriloquist? That would explain his lips not moving. What about the fact no one else was the least bit disturbed by his wei

“Well did you know that oftentimes, long-term couples most often start to look and sound alike?” Evangeline slightly turned her body towards him as if wanting to hear more. “Really?” She asked with an inquisitive tone. Encouraged by her actions, August began to explain, “Yes, sort of like an emotional contagion. They spend so much time together that the way they move their body and how they speak would become so similar. They become their unique but shared identity.” Evangeline was impressed. Not only was this guy well-mannered but also well-read. From her experience, these kinds of people prefer it if you don’t show too much interest or very little. But just enough to keep the conversation

I exclaimed After 30 minutes of constantly stuffing my mouth with various food, I decided to go and drink water. I was trying to slide open the pantry door *thud* Huh? What was that! It sounded like it came from the kitchen, some utensil must've fallen. *clomp* *clash* What!? that sounds like someone is wandering around the kitchen "A person? Wait- I know what happened last time I thought that the weird sounds were coming from a person" I mumbled to myself

The walls weren't concrete – they were highly polished, floor – to – ceiling mirrors hidden in the dark. Suddenly, I was surrounded by hundreds of reflections of myself. I looked battered, bruised, and dangerously tightly wound. Then, the auditory assault began. "Tell me who owns you, Sloane." The voice didn't come from a speaker. It echoed directly inside my own skull. It was a dark, velvet whisper that sent a violent, treacherous spike of heat straight to my core. It was Lolita. I gritted my teeth. My hands curled into tight fists. "It’s a chemical projection," I muttered aloud, my voice muffled by the makeshift mask. "A biometric feedback loop. It isn't real."

Or something had moved it. Adelaide clapped both hands over her ears, knuckles pressing so hard against her skull that spots danced across her vision. But the sounds weren’t just in her ears—they vibrated through the walls, through the floor, through her skin. Her breath shattered on a sob. “No—no, please—stop—stop—”

His eyes had sunk deep into their sockets, with a strange light somewhere between exhaustion and madness, as if they held visions he could not see. He could hear things... imaginary heartbeats, footsteps in the empty corridors, whispers that drew near and then vanished. Shadows danced on the walls, and he could not tell if they were remnants of light or illusions born of a mind beginning to crumble. Every sound, however slight, became a threat to him, and every tremor in the walls felt like a summons from another world.

Suddenly, a detail he'd totally missed hit him. That morning, when he was listening to Tyler's chest... "Daddy, my chest hurts so much," Tyler had said, his voice weak. "It feels like there's water gurgling inside." He had heard something weird through the stethoscope. Not just normal breathing sounds. There were faint crackles. But right then, Isabella had called, asking him to come to Emma's birthday party. He'd quickly pulled the stethoscope away to answer his phone. Crackles...

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.

Fear grips her body as she jerks upright, her heart pounding in her chest as the noise intensifies, echoing through the room like a thunderous storm. The relentless sounds reverberate through the air, growing louder and more ominous with each passing moment. Audrey's eyes dart around the dimly lit space, her breath quickening with each heartbeat as she realizes that the place she is in doesn't have traditional doors, only shutters. The realization dawns on her that she may be in an abandoned warehouse, a place of shadows and secrets, haunted by the eerie presence of spiderwebs and hungry rats.

She stammered, "M-Maverick, these photos, these agreements… they're fake—all fake! How could I ever do something like this? Ophelia is trying to frame me!" Right on cue, tears streamed down her face, making her look utterly pitiful. I calmly reached into my bag and pulled out a USB drive. "Emma, you recorded videos to pay off your gambling debts. Do you need me to help you relive those memories?" Her expression twisted from pitiful to vicious in an instant. She grabbed a cup of hot tea from the table and hurled it straight at me. "Ophelia, you bitch!" She moved so fast that I instinctively shut my eyes and raised my arm to block it. But the pain of hot tea scalding me never came.