Clicking Sound Crossword Clue Novels & Stories

I started walking towards the elevator and as I arrived there, I stretched my finger to press the open button when a sound pierced through the silence in the room. I froze. It sounded like the clinking of glasses. Bottles. My breath hitched and my chest heaved as I turned to face it. The scene in front of me was the same one I turned my back to moments ago but now, something was different. That sound. “Did you make that sound?” I asked Rochelle who immediately responded me with a “No.” The soft sound of her voice filled my ears as I felt my emotions collide in me. If it wasn't from her, it had to be from someone.

The sound of designer heels clicking echoed through the dimly lit, marble-clad hallway, the sharp, rhythmic strike against the polished floor being the only thing breaking the heavy, oppressive silence of the hallway. To anyone else, the sound might have been jarring, even threatening, but to Eleanor Kingston, it was a symphony of her own making. It was the sound of a joy that couldn't be experienced with mere words or simple actions—it was the pure, intoxicating vibration of total victory.

she whispered. Kael strained to listen. To an ordinary person, the valley was silent. But for those who had been "Synthesized," the air itself served as a medium. Through the stillness came a sound that didn't belong in nature. It was a high-pitched, rhythmic clicking, like the mandibles of a giant insect or the frantic tapping of a telegraph key. Click-clack. Click-click-clack. It wasn't coming from the Well. It was coming from the North.

He stared into the darkness of the sealed tunnel, waiting for a heartbeat, a whisper, a sound—anything. But the silence that followed was absolute. And then, from the other side of the rubble, came a sound that froze Julian’s blood. It wasn't a voice. It wasn't a groan. It was the sound of metal clicking against stone, a single, rhythmic strike, repeated three times. Click. Click. Click. Then, nothing. Julian pressed his ear against the cold, dead rock. "Kael?" No response.

"Keep moving. They can't have gotten far with the male injured." The voices were close. Getting closer. Heavy boots on the forest floor, equipment rattling. Then the unmistakable sound that every prey animal recognizes—the click of a gun's safety being released. Right outside our hiding place.

My heels click softly against the ground as I make my way toward the garage, each step confident, unhurried. I don’t rush. I don’t look around. I just walk… like I know exactly who I am. And what I’m about to do. Reaching the garage, I pull out my car keys, already lifting my hand to unlock my car, and then…. HONK. The sharp sound cuts through the quiet morning, making me freeze mid-step. My brows pull together immediately. “Excuse me?” I mutter under my breath, slowly turning my head toward the direction of the sound.

Alex jumped right in front of her, brandishing a sword-shaped air. But instead of finding Maxwell coming down the rabbit hole to fetch them, they heard a sound like a thousand boulders rolling down the hill, and a multifold of a fast-rolling ball of lights burst out of the sliding tunnel. “Skibblitz!” Clara shrieked as she attempted to take cover under the ancient desk, but even that had been blasted to smithereens.

“Did you hear that?” Lucy’s voice sliced through the silence. Austin froze mid-sentence. The low hum of the penthouse sounded normal, until the chandelier above them flickered once, twice, then steadied. A faint clicking echoed inside the wall. Like fingernails against metal. He frowned. “Probably the circuit” “Don’t.” Her tone cracked. “You’ve said probably five times this week.” He crossed to the switchboard, pressing a few buttons, calm on the outside, tension pulsing beneath his jaw. “It’s nothing.”

I counted the clicks in my head. One, Two, Three, Four. I felt a small click, I was close. I knew the sound, i felt the sound in my fingers. This number was correct. I went to the next number. I turned the dial back past the correct number. Then I turned it slowly again. One Two Three. I was listening for the sound of the tumblers lining up. The metal sound was so tiny. I needed total silence, I needed to feel the safe’s pulse. I was getting close. I felt the small shift and the tiny click. Yes, that was the second number, I had two numbers right. I was halfway there.

No warning, no window to react. I walked them through the tell. That was the part everyone went quiet for. “There is a sound,” I said. “Small. At the back of his throat. He makes it right before he moves. Not when he is thinking about it. Right before. Like a click almost. It sounds like nothing. I heard it for six months before I understood what it was.” I looked around the table. “If anyone in that room hears that sound, something is about to happen. Get clear.”