Voice In Literature Examples Novels & Stories

the voice called again same cadence same tone same soft rasp I heard in my own throat when I whispered to the moon Lucian turned sharply blades drawn “Tell me you didn’t just speak” “I didn’t” I whispered and that voice said it again only deeper from farther ahead We moved as one careful and fast through the jagged landscape The obsidian Vale pulsed with the weight of silence but that voice kept threading through the cracks in the wind It mimicked me perfectly Every word I’d spoken in the past day the fear the confusion the promises even the lie I told myself about not being afraid It knew We reached a wide pit ringed in broken pillars where a soft glow rose like steam

But then, in the heartbeat between breaths, a voice shattered the silence, slicing through the air like an unbidden echo. "We don't know how hard you are coming, eh?" The words were a sinister melody, a chilling reminder that they were not alone in the heart of the woods. The voice seemed to materialize out of thin air, a spectral whisper that sent a shiver racing down Levi's spine. His heart quickened, the tendrils of unease wrapping around his thoughts like a vice.

Her words painted vivid images of a distant land bathed in twilight, awaiting him to defy the darkness. Still, the thunderous voice morphed into a chorus of accusing cries, each syllable a dagger aimed at his resolve. Doubt gnawed at his mind like a relentless predator, threatening to consume him whole. Throughout, the lady's voice remained his beacon of hope, a fragile lifeline in the tumultuous sea of his subconscious. The young boy stumbled forward, driven by a mixture of fear and determination. The echoes of the voices reverberated through his being, a haunting symphony that both tormented and guided him.

Violet’s breath caught in her chest, the weight of his question pressing down on her harder than any touch. The scenary felt unbearably still, every sound, the faint hum of the wind and the cricket , the distant honks of the cars passing by, dissolving into silence. His gaze pinned her in place, steady and unyielding, as though he could see through every wall she had carefully built. She wanted to speak, to offer him the truth he deserved, yet the words tangled at the edge of her tongue like thorns. Violet realized that silence could be louder, more dangerous, than any lie.

Second Person POV You are nowhere. No light. No sound. No heartbeat. Just the echo of your name, distant and warped, like a whisper through water. ***Zara…*** You try to move, but there’s nothing to move *toward*. No body. No breath. Only the cold, gnawing void. ***You were brave.*** The voice isn’t a sound. It’s a vibration, a pulse that reverberates through the nothingness. You recoil—or would, if you had a body.

I tried to look around me but my eyes were weak and too eager to consume his handsome sight across me. "You're awake," he whispered his voice a soothing melody in the silence. I wondered if it was the same voice that barked out such a painful growl if it was the same voice that was so commanding it sent chills running feeling down my spine How could two extreme personalities exist this way?"How are you feeling?"

Just then she hears a voice, “Hey baby” That same voice has been coming to her, and every time she hears the voice , it's so soothing and comforting. Each time she hears the voice she stands up to look for the voice, she follows the voice hoping it will lead her out, but each time she gets to where the light is, there's something that's always stopping her. And once the voice stops talking, the light goes off until the voice talks again. She's tired of being in the dark. She wanted to leave here so desperately so when she heard a voice speak again she followed it.

This sound has barely died down when she heard heavy and pounding footsteps. Her father’s voice angry spread through the building. It was not just a voice, it was a cry of despair and desperation. She heard another voice, but this time, it was not her father's. It was that of another man who was shouting back. This was followed by the sound of a vial uncorking and a barrel hitting the ground.

a voice whispered in my mind, familiar yet mysterious. "Who are you?" I asked, trying to discern the person's identity from their voice alone. I struggled to comprehend the identity of the person solely based on their voice, but it proved to be a challenging task. "You and your ruthless mate ruined my life. I am going to ruin your lives too. I won't stop until both of you beg me to stop," the voice whispered, its words carrying a chilling promise. Shivers ran down my spine, and I found myself tightly gripping the bars of the window.

As Vincent's claws slashed forward, the pages emitted a blinding red light— And Camela’s voice burst forth from the book. Not just one voice—but hundreds and thousands of her voices at every age, every tone, and every scream, all calling out in unison. The flood froze mid-air and the city walls stopped shaking. Vincent’s claws suspended dangerously inches close to the stranger’s throat. Then, the journal whispered in a calm yet powerful voice that sounded just like Camela’s voice: “Vincent…stop. I wrote this. I created myself.”