Discovering Your Voice Novels & Stories

I said My voice comes out steady. I have absolutely no idea how.

Jhuy Clifford had given me his contact while I was disguised as a pole dancer at the club. Taking a deep breath in, I dialled it. After the first ringing, his voice came spattering through the receiver. "Who is this?" he sounded strict, somewhat upset. Nothing prepared me for the moment where I had to change my voice to not get busted. "Your biggest fantasy," I slimed through my words. Silence. "Excuse me?" "Shut up and obey," I slithered again, a bit different from the first time I spoke, but not obviously noticeable if you weren't expecting it.

my subconscious screams. “Get it together you badass sultry vixen” My inner goddess is screaming. I am a thousand shades of red, I can feel it. “What are the chances?” my two inner voices are now having a conversation without me. At this point I am going to need nicknames for them.

he hissed at me and I gasped fakely. "Oh my god, I didn't see you. I'm so sorry." I said in a thick gravelly voice. I cringed internally upon hearing my voice. Way to go! You might be thinking I could've just run away, but that might seem suspicious and I can't risk that, especially with this man who knows A to Z about me. I just hope he doesn't recognize me with this fake voice and my disguised self. My heart was beating loudly and I feared it would jump out of my chest at any moment.

And, if it wasn't just my imagination, the voice I remembered from a little memory that crossed my mind earlier sounded similar to his voice. Or perhaps my mind is playing tricks on me. I've heard many voices in the last two years, but when it comes to that man, I only hear a familiar voice. I'm not sure. I'm completely perplexed. I can't think clearly. Something in me is driven to learn everything I can about my past. To discover who I truly am.

Instead, I come up with a plan. Plan to reverse torture him. "Oh yeah~" I bring out the girliest voice I've ever unlocked from my arsenal. He stops his movements at once, looking at my glistening eyes and lips. "What's wrong with your voice...?" He says. Even if the night light was dim, i could see pink dusted over his cheeks as well. It's working! "Don't you like it, daddy? Hmm? You want me to stop speaking like this?" Voice. It can please the visual system and become the ultimate honcho of the listener. The user of this technique shall be granted the power to control the opposition, with their voice.

Taking several long, deep breaths, I calmed myself first, following Dad's example. The soft breeze, kissing my face, so refreshing—the feeling of cold, green grass tickling my bare feet—the rhythmical chirping of birds—Ah, it feels so delightful….. “Val?” A gentle tone spoke within my mind, awakening my senses. I-is it my inner voice? My wolf? Is my power waking up? I got excited. “Valentina?” Again, the voice called for me, and I blinked in confusion. Wait—why does this voice sound like my father? Did my inner voice change?

A voice echos infrastructure of me. Oh no, we've been caught.​

I refused to be judged for that. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I did. It’s hard to admit, but the sound of my voice still startles me. I haven’t heard it since I was four,” I paused and took in a deep breath. “I always wondered, you know?” I shifted in my position, so I was comfortable enough to sit and speak to him. “I always asked myself what I was going to sound like if I ever started speaking again. Would I sound like I did when I was four years old? Did my voice grow along with the rest of my body even though I hadn’t used it? Would I even have a working voice box?”

I noticed, with something like surprise, that I had been humming a particular tune for several minutes without realizing it, a tune that belonged to no one else's mood I might have absorbed, simply something that had arisen, unprompted, from whatever was actually mine. I called Eamon that evening, wanting to share the discovery with the one person who'd helped me find the question in the first place. "I think I found something tonight," I said. "Something that's just mine. Not borrowed, not absorbed from anyone else. Just — mine." "Tell me," he said, and I could hear the genuine interest in his voice, not performed, simply present. I described the experiment, the unfamiliar silence, the smal