Batman Noises Novels & Stories

“Right. Communication issues. We’ll work on that.” I tried to focus on cooking, but the air had shifted. Heavier. Every sound — the ticking pipes, the whine of the wind — felt amplified. Then I heard it. A noise from below. Not pipes. Not wind. A slow, rhythmic sound. Breathing. I stood frozen, listening. “Probably raccoons,” I whispered. “Or ghosts. Or raccoon ghosts.” I grabbed the new flashlight from my bag, flicked it on, and followed the sound.

Blackness wasn’t as quiet as I remembered. It came with echoes this time—faint sounds pressing in around the edges of nothing. Boots pounding on earth. Men swearing. The distant, furious whinny of horses. The sharp crack of a branch snapping under too much weight. Then, cutting through it all, a sound my bones knew better than my ears. Snarling. Not the half‑hearted growls of bored patrols. Real snarls. Deep, resonant, backed by power.

I feel a buzzing in my head. "Oh God, it's so good... ! Faster, faster..." There was a long groan, and my stomach let out an ill-timed growl. Frustrated and hungry, I could no longer resist the urge to knock on the door. "Don't make the f.ucking sound of an animal mating!" There was a momentary silence in the dungeon. I heard the screech of a chair being dragged, followed by the clatter of a mobile phone hitting the floor, and I could just imagine the man in a hurry.

“Just keep hold of your baton. We might need it again.” Tap. Tap. Tap. Fredrick suddenly stops. “Did you guys hear that?” “Your own footsteps, Fred,” Damian grumbles impatiently. “No,” Ash says, her voice trembling. She moves closer to Fredrick. “Those aren’t our footsteps. They’re too fast... and... there are too many of them.” Click-click-click. Tap-tap-tap-tap. The sound comes from the darkness ahead, like thousands of tiny claws tapping against the tunnel’s concrete floor.

One second his chest was against my back, and the next he was in front of me, half-transformed, his eyes glowing amber, fangs showing, every muscle in his body drawn tight like a bow about to snap. “What did you just do?” His voice wasn’t entirely human. “I don’t know. I don’t know what—I didn’t mean to—” Bells. Distant. From the forest. From the opposite direction of the cave, from the darkness between the trees where moonlight no longer reached. A metallic sound, slow and spaced out, like the heartbeat of something enormous and rusted. Everyone turned toward the sound. “What the hell is that?” Enzo said, and for the first time on the entire trip, there wasn’t a trace of humor in his voice.

This time the noises are less intense, less mechanical, and more like regular people noises. The building appears to be coming to life as it increase, the doors make swooshing noise, but nothing seems to open. There’s a bang, sliding of maybe bolts, I can’t tell. A beep, a woosh, like the noise a piston makes, and then I can make out the swing of a heavy metal door and gravel rolling and sliding from it.

Something was wrong. She tried to focus on the sounds. It was deep in the night. She could hear an owl hooting outside the house in a tree. Night insects composed a steady soundtrack as well. The sounds in the house comprised of electrical appliances, which hummed in the air like white noise. In the room, she could hear Asher’s breathing and steady heartbeat. A tap dripped a drop of water in the bathroom every three minutes. Nothing else stood out, but the sense of danger did not lessen. If anything, it intensified.

He created the percussion for a complete orchestra out of the deafening silence that one would ordinarily perceive. Breathing sounds, fox yipping, Lycans howling, snarls, padding feet along a trail, a grunt of pain at catching a root or tripping on deadfall, creaking tree trunks, the flutter of wings unseen, snapping twigs, grass, and weed sliding against pant legs, snapping twigs, grass and weed sliding against pant legs, snapping

Even muffled by the wadded-up fabric, I was sure he could still clearly hear my horny moans as they shamelessly pushed against the obstruction that dared to silence them. Then, another sound filled the air. A very different sound from the wet, wild sounds of sex I’d gotten used to. A hollow thud, followed by a metallic squeak, and then the soft, repetitive slap of rubber on concrete. It was familiar, but I couldn't place it for some reason. "Man, fuck you, no she wasn't." I swear to God my heart stopped right then and there. Suddenly, those "familiar" sounds became all too easy to identify: the bathroom door, shoes on the concrete, and a stranger's voice.

he weakly uttered as he sniffled softly. Kelvin pulled the birthday boy into a hug. "You're welcome. You're happy, right?" Kinsley nodded vigorously in response. "Good." The older boy chuckled. From a distance, by one of the windows of the school building, someone is gritting his teeth. "Tsk. He's too happy and crying over an effing phone,” he muttered. * * * "The great deaf is here!" One young werewolf announced as Kinsley entered a large room for the monthly meeting of the aspiring hunters, trackers, and warriors, even healers of the pack. The pack members in this group are ages twelve to seventeen, who will soon be given their rank.