Finding My Voice Novels & Stories

Each step, each breath, felt like it was taking me further from the person I used to be. I was losing myself. And I didn’t know if I would ever come back. I had to do something. Anything. I started talking to myself, whispering words just to hear my own voice. I needed to know I still existed, that I was still real. But even my voice sounded strange, distant, like it didn’t belong to me anymore. I wasn’t sure what I was saying half the time. Just words, spilling out like a lifeline, trying to hold onto some shred of sanity.

I looked around again, hoping to see someone, anyone, but there was no one else. Then a voice echoed around me. “You are finally discovering what you were meant to find.” I turned slowly, my heart racing. “Who’s there?” I asked. “Who are you?” “I am surprised you do not recognize my voice by now,” the voice said calmly. My breath caught. “Goddess,” I said out loud. There was no answer. “Why are we here?” I asked. “What is this place?” Silence followed, until the voice returned. “You have unlocked the key to communicating with me.”

Sitting upright, my heart was pounding, unable to find my voice for a minute before I finally did. “I don’t know, Cyra. I don't know what's happening to me.”

"Mommy, don't listen to him! He's the one who appeared out of nowhere and started stealing all my nutrients! Now, he even wants to make you misunderstand me!" Lucky's voice rang out, so aggrieved and pitiful that it made my heart ache. I quickly patted my belly to comfort him. "Don't worry, Lucky. I won't believe in some random, unexplained voice!" I looked around, trying to find the source of the other voice, only for it to appear again. "Mom, stop looking. I'm Sunny, I'm right inside your belly!

I was a prisoner of my own fear, unable to move, unable to speak. The sound of my own voice was barely audible, a faint whisper that seemed to tremble on my lips. But it was enough to break the spell of paralysis that had held me captive. I managed to utter a single, tentative word… "Haven?"

As usual, I never got the answers to these questions because the moment the tiny door swung open, I blacked out, embracing the cold dark hands of unconsciousness clawing against my throat. ***************** "Where did you find her?" This didn't sound like my voice. It was low and seemed to be coming from a fair distance but I knew it wasn't my voice. The least I could do would be able to tell my own voice apart, right? " I believe I just asked a question,where did you find her?!"

“I hope it happens before you finally reject Marcus, because I want to see it.” I nodded, and then grabbed my throat. “Clara?” Tracy asked, concerned. Nora reached for me, obviously worried. My throat felt so strange! It was warm, like I’d tried to drink sunlight, but it didn’t burn like it did when I was ill. “Clara, what’s wrong?” Nora asked. I opened my mouth, and a soft, strained whine emerged. It wasn’t a word, no, but it was a sound. For the first time in my life, I made a sound. I had a voice!

However, again I heard the voice, so I turned to see the sound is actually coming from my phone. Then I remembered that I recorded those statements continuously and set an alarm so that I will get up soon. Then my eyes went wide because I just realized something. “I just hated my own voice just few minutes back.” I said in a whisper and immediately switched off the alarm. Is my voice really that bad? I asked myself and frowned because it must be. Well, I can’t change my voice now can I? I thought, shaking my head and got down from the bed. I opened my closet and saw the seven suits which I bought two weeks back to attend all the interviews. I already finished my three trailer interviews so t

I barked. My voice was a hoarse whisper, my words a desperate plea. She was out there, somewhere, and a small flicker of hope sparked in my chest. I had to find her. I fucking had to.

Peter had promised then that it would get better; the long unuse of my voice had caused that. Could it be that? I coughed before I spoke again. Perhaps there was a lodge somewhere in my throat. “Thank you, Ma.” I answered, tentatively though—to hear my voice, to dissect it, to know what was different. I sounded the same to me. Why couldn’t she recognize me? Still there was no recognition. Yet, I wasn’t perturbed. I was done testing my voice. “About your daughter…what happened to her?” I asked, deciding to make some conversation, giving up on being found out by my voice. I don’t know how it had happened, but my voice was unrecognizable to them.