Mengapa Telinga Seperti Ada Suara Gemuruh Novels & Stories

Why did I bring this again? In frustration, I groaned and kept it away. Out of boredom, I laid back in bed, threw the duvet over my head and went back to sleep. The weirdest thing was that strange noise I kept hearing at the back of my head, I had no idea where it was coming from or what it meant. I heard it last night before bed, I'm hearing it again. What's going on?

I closed up my laptop and leaned back in my chair as I rubbed my eyes. Just then, I heard a loud screech like nails on a chalkboard. I crouched down, falling to the floor, and I used my hands to cover my ears and shut my eyes tightly. I cursed under my breath. The sound was definitely far away, but how is it affecting me and where is it?

"Listen." Rangga strained his ears, expecting the usual cicadas or the low moan of the wind through the pines. Instead, he heard it: a rhythmic, metallic thud-thud-thud that vibrated in his teeth. It wasn't the mountain. It was too mechanical, too rhythmic, like a pulse created by pistons and steel. "Construction?" Rangga whispered, his pulse quickening. "Here? In the middle of nowhere?"

I opened my ears and yawned. Heck, where was I? The North Pole? Was it this cold? I sat up and wrapped the wool blanket around me even more. I blinked the sleep off my eyes and listened. That sound wasn't a ringing per se. It was a form of banging that resulted into a prolonged ringing. Something was banging against something big. Something metal.

His voice came through, cracking and static. I stared at Elais as the static filled the line, a chaotic, sickening mixture of hissing and crackling that drowned out any coherent response. The noise seemed to increase in double-folds, and it was maddening—an overwhelming barrage that cringed and felt as though it was choking the hospital room. I moved my ears away from the phone, a ringing following in my ears. It was a tempest of noise—like a radio tuned between sharp, stationary and relentless.

Still aching. That’s when the noises began. The drip from the sink wasn’t just a drip, it was a metallic ping that pierced straight into my skull. Sarah’s soft breathing rasped like sandpaper. Farther down the hall, a man’s snores vibrated through the walls. Three doors away, a phone buzzed once on a wooden desk, and I heard it clear as if it were in my hand. I pressed my palms against my ears, desperate for silence, but it didn’t matter. The sounds weren’t outside anymore. They were inside me, a thousand sharp threads tangling at once. I was a radio stuck between stations, unable to turn the dial.

Knox was asking for the actual content of the experience, which meant he wanted specifics, which meant he had a reason for wanting specifics. "There is a buzzing," I said. "Under my skin. Like something is running just below the surface that doesn't have anywhere to go yet. It's not painful, it's just — constant. I can't ignore it." "What else?" "Sounds," I said. "Everything is too loud. The corridor outside this room sounds like it's right next to my ear. I can hear conversations from two floors down. When Kimberly dropped a mug in the kitchen this morning I felt it in my teeth. It's like someone turned up the volume on everything and I cannot find the dial to turn it back down."

I hear voices around me, but they sound dull and muffled, whispers hushed in the corners of the room intended for me not to hear what they are saying. I lay there keeping as still as possible, wanting to catch what they are saying, but it is like my ears are filled with water, and I cannot hear a damn thing.

The initially calm blue waveform had turned into jagged teeth, as if it were opening its mouth wide. Although there was no sound coming from the headphones, the app felt like it was screaming all the same. I immediately threw my phone on the couch in the living room and returned to the bedroom, hiding under the covers. I had to be hallucinating. It must be because I have been working late recently. I was burned out. I forced myself to close my eyes. In the darkness, my hearing sharpened. The living room was silent. No. There was a sound. Drip, drip.

Whoever invented this sound probably has a side hustle for torturing people in hell. “God, make it stop,” I groan, my voice muffled against the pillow. My head is pounding, no, scratch that it feels like a marching band is stomping its way across my skull, cymbals clashing with every beat. That’s what I get for drinking enough tequila to sink a ship. Whoever said alcohol heals heartache is a liar. The ringing, where is it coming from? The ringing feels like it’s coming from every corner of my apartment.