Sound Fruit Novels & Stories

High and clear and carrying a frequency that cut through every other sound in the territory the way a single instrument cuts through an orchestra when it plays in a register that nothing else can reach. I knew that sound. I had heard it once. In a meadow. An hour ago. But it was not my mother’s voice. It was Lyra’s.

They look like the lady I saw in the forest with a little girl but she's more elegant than them. The sounds of the meadow blend perfectly with the lovely images, creating a sense of inner serenity and harmony. As if an orchestra was playing, the calm sounds flowed across the field. The chorus was created consisting of the buzzing of pollen-eating bees. While drilling a hole in an oak tree, a woodpecker kept a constant beat. The brass portion was generated by birds whistling and peeping like trumpets. All of these noises, as well as others, were combined together to produce a pleasant symphony.

Byurrr! The sound rang in Marc's ears. A sound like something splashing into a pond. Inevitably, Marc treated his curiosity. He opened the balcony door of his room and peered out.The sound echoed in Marc's ears, a sudden splash reminiscent of an object breaking the surface of a still pond. Compelled by an irresistible curiosity, he approached the balcony door of his room, the cool air brushing against his skin. With a gentle push, he swung the door open and leaned out, peering into the fading light, eager to uncover the source of the mysterious noise.

The salt-fire was a sound before it was a sensation. It didn't crackle like wood: it shrieked with a high-pitched, metallic frequency that made the black glass floor vibrate beneath my feet. The flames were a cold, ghostly violet, devouring the oxygen and leaving behind a thick, suffocating fog that tasted of boiled vinegar and wet copper.

“Listen to this. It’s messy, but it’s all here.” I held my breath as the audio began to play. The sound was grainy, filled with the background roar of a crowded bar and the clinking of glasses, but Portia’s voice was unmistakable. It was thick and slurred, heavy with the lack of control that comes with one too many cocktails.

"It consumes her. Risks infecting wider reality. This stops. Now." The Archive chuckles, a sound like pages tearing. "Stops? Or is… cultivated?" It fades, leaving only the scent of ozone and the unsettling hum of my blooming scars. Later, pain lances through me. A new bloom, blood-red crystal this time, erupts near my elbow. Where it touches the air, tiny flames ignite spontaneously – not hot, but burning pure Sound . A cacophony of screams and laughter fills the small space. "Prune it," the Child urges, their voice tight. "Focus. Like you did with the Weeping. Calm it. Make it yours."

sound. “I’ve always been here,” he said. Jenny’s fingers touched two items in the inner pocket of the suit: Olivia’s butterfly drawing and Daniel’s pink dinosaur. The paper and rubber made distinct sounds at her fingertips—“shh” and “squeak”—like two notes of different frequencies being played simultaneously.

I dropped my juice box, still addicted to this thing. 'And you will never understand,' I said coldly, I picked up the mini ear buds at my side and wore it. The sonic shield pierced in, blocking out every sound. 'Now, enjoy my favorite music!' I shouted. I pressed the blue button on the arm of my chair and smiled. The sound to me was like a small incessant ringing but to them, it was a loud frequent wave, similar to a banshee's wail.

And then he prayed that he wouldn't get a message stating that he couldn't dial outside of the state. The phone miraculously rang and even though there was a feeling as if sharp nails were being driven into his skull, he felt overjoyed. Now if she would just pick up. He needed to hear her voice more then he needed air to breathe. "Hello?" Her voice was like music to his ears, even though that one simple word sounded exasperated and angry. "Juicy?"

Crunch. The not so pleasant sound of someone’s nose breaking. Before today I’m not sure that I had ever heard it, but that was the second, maybe third time within the hour, and it was something that won’t be easy to forget. Oddly enough, it was pretty similar to the sound of chips being smashed in a bag and I wondered if I’d ever be able to enjoy some sweet chili Doritos ever again without associating the two sounds together.