Novel & Cerita Seeing Sound

I held my breath, ears straining. The sound came again, clearer this time. A drawn-out, breathless cry that climbed higher at the end. Wet, desperate, full of something I hadn’t heard outside of movies and dorm gossip. “That’s… odd,” I whispered. I knew what sex sounded like. I wasn’t twelve. But I’d never heard it so… live. So close. Part of me knew I should turn around. Go back upstairs. Or at least go a different way. Another part of me, the stupid curious part, took a slow step toward the sound.

I continued walking and didn't bother to slow down. "Ohhh Ohhh" I immediately stopped at that sound. What kind of animal will I run into again? "Ahhhh! Ohhhhm!" I continued walking while following the sound. When I thought I was close, I immediately stopped. "Faster! I am near baby! Oh shit! Ahhh!" Even though I can't see it, I know what's happening. I just closed my eyes in no time.

I kept my eyes fixed on it, every nerve in my body tight with waiting. And then I heard it. A sound unlike anything I’d ever heard before. The heavy thump of wings beating the air. Not like the flutter of a bird or the delicate rustle of an owl—it was deeper, louder, each flap echoing in my chest as if it was shaking the very air around me. My skin prickled, my body frozen in place as I listened to it grow louder and louder. Then I saw him.

Out. “What do you see?” “There’s a TV,” I say. My voice sounds thin. “I can hear it.” “That’s good,” Harper says, warm. “Where is it? Can you see it?” I look towards the sound. “It’s up high. On the wall.” “You hear it, can you hear the words?” I try but I can’t pick out individual words. My heart rate rises again and I shake my head. “No. I… I can’t.”

There is no pain at first, just this dull nothingness, a quiet that feels wrong in a way I cannot explain. Then something shifts. I can hear sounds, faint and distant, like it is traveling through water before it reaches me. A low vibration, uneven, followed by sharp growls. Another sound cuts through it, louder this time, urgent, layered with chaos. My brows knit together even though I am not fully awake, my mind tugging at the noise like it is trying to remember what it means. I hear shouting.

Her gaze locked onto the see-through hole, her eyes searching for a flicker of movement, a hint of life beyond the door. When no response came, Sheila knocked again, her patience wearing thin. She pressed her ear against the door, her werewolf senses on high alert. But instead of the expected sounds of footsteps, heartbeats, or breathing, an unsettling silence greeted her. Sheila's brow furrowed in confusion. Why couldn't she hear anything? She listened again, her ears straining to detect even the faintest whisper of sound. But the silence was oppressive, a heavy blanket that suffocated all noise. That was when she realized she could no longer hear distant sounds like she used to. That was s

Nothing was emitting the sounds I was hearing, and that was where it got stranger. I knew the sounds. My ears recognized the sounds, my brains…I recognized it. And the more I listened carefully, the clearer my mind became. The steadier my feet, the more my brain processed what it was that was happening, and the more I drew patterns. My eyes flying to actual angle where the sound seemed loudest. Behind my TV set. The wall there. “Could these be…could this…could this be moans?” I asked myself, disbelief. Confused. “Am I really hearing moans right now? Moans. Through my walls.”

“Just listen. Focus.” Frowning, I close my eyes and do as she says, trying to shut off my other senses to concentrate solely on the sounds around me. At first, it’s nothing but the usual…the rustle of the wind outside, birds chirping, Alison’s heart thumping steadily beside me. But then, something else filters through. It’s faint, like a low, distant grunt. I narrow my focus, letting the sound grow sharper in my mind. It’s definitely a grunt. Someone’s in pain.

I speed up and the sounds of my hand working between my legs carry through the phone speaker and he’s listening, he’s sitting in his study listening to the acoustic evidence of what his voice is doing to my body from a different room, and the knowledge that he can HEAR how wet I am through a phone is making me wetter. “You’re close. I can hear it – your breathing is breaking apart and you’re making that sound you make right before you lose control, the one that sits in the back of your throat like you’re trying to swallow it. Don’t swallow it. Let me hear it. But now I need you to stop.”

She hesitated, her eyes wide as if she could see the sounds if she concentrated hard enough. This time, the sound did repeat and take shape. As it collided on the edge of her hearing over and over, it grew closer, louder. She recognized the sound of rocks grating against each other. The cadence of the sound was so familiar, the rhythm made with slow footsteps, approaching. Someone was walking through the landscaping rocks lining the perimeter of her new house, just above the window well that loomed beside her.