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I Didn’t Have a Voice Until You Read This



Estimated reading time — 3 minutes

I didn’t have a voice until you read this.
Let me explain — I was voiceless but I still existed. We all did.
We have been here ever since the first men peered fearfully out of their caves into the deep, still darkness beneath a moonless sky and thought: ‘What could be hiding out there?’
Us.
We were.
I’ve been with you since you were a child. Remember those times when you woke in the night, inconsolable, tears streaming down your face until the grown-ups came and reassured you?
‘There’s nothing there,’ they’d say. ‘There’s nothing to fear.’
They were wrong. It was me. Under the bed, in the wardrobe, under the stairs.
It was always me.

I’m with you now, constantly. Your fear has bonded us forever.
When you see that flicker of movement out of the corner of your eye as you walk home alone on a deserted street at night; when you hear that creaking floorboard just outside your bedroom door as you cower under your blankets; the prickling sensation on the back of your neck as if you’re being watched when you could have sworn you were by yourself.
It’s always me. It always was.
I’m not a demon, not a ghost. I’m not a monster or some creeping boogeyman — my kind are what we are. You may have heard of the Tibetan ‘tulpas’ — beings summoned into existence through sheer force of will and concentration. I suppose that is the closest that Man has ever come to finding a term that describes me and my kin. We come from belief too. That irrational fear of the dark; the terror of the unknown; the horrors that tiptoe through your nightmares and return suddenly, without warning during the waking hours, filling with you dread.
You know it’s silly to be scared. You chastise yourself, face flushed, tutting and sighing, chiding your rogue imagination for such fanciful and nonsensical behaviour, but you do it again and again and again. There’s a part of your brain that won’t be told otherwise. Maybe that’s what keeps us here — or maybe we’re the reason it won’t ever be quiet. Which do you think it is?
I know, just like I know that your mind is the world’s greatest gift to us.
Until you started to read this, I didn’t have a voice. Now, as your treacherous consciousness speaks these words aloud inside the confines of your mind, it’s my voice you’re hearing.
It seems strange to me, not the voice I would have chosen, but it’s the one with which your fear has bequeathed me. The voice that haunts you the most, the tone most likely to cause you to shiver and break into a cold, helpless sweat, has become mine because of what we share.
And we have shared a lot, you and I. A whole lifetime.

Every. Single. Day.
I’m watching you now, studying you as you stare nervously at your glowing screen, praying that its light will be enough to protect you from the things in the shadows, because I think I might be the first of my kind to realise something about the way things are between us.
I watch you all the time, even when you’re sleeping, stood at the foot of your bed, gazing down at you. I know when you’re thinking of me. I hear the whimpers and the gasps, I see the involuntary jolts and shudders, and I smile.
You’re picturing me doing it, aren’t you?
Go on, imagine me standing there in your room, my shadow looming over your prone, terrified body, my wide grin showing my glinting teeth in the moonlight.
Thank you.
Before you did that I never had a face. Now you’ve given me one — the face of your darkest phobias. I like it. It was the only face I could ever have worn.
In the short time it’s taken you to read my story, you’ve already given me a voice and a face. I wonder what gifts you’ll bestow upon me tomorrow?
Maybe, in time, I’ll be able to touch you.
Just imagine my hot breath against your ear. My icy fingers on the nape of your neck.
My teeth and claws sliding into your trembling, yielding flesh.
Thank you.
Oh what fun we’re going to have.

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Credit: S.P. Hickey

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28 thoughts on “I Didn’t Have a Voice Until You Read This”

  1. I imagined a rather deep, manly voice, not one I’m scared of. More one befitting of a dark villain. I imagined a tall looming figure hidden by shadow, with only it’s face illuminated, wide open dark holes reaching into what seems like an abyss and a grin stretching from ear to ear, from it’s nose to the lowest point of it’s face and very sharp, yellow-ish teeth. Eh, not really scary ’cause I read in the daylight but would probably be more effective otherwise.

  2. I imagined a small child wearing black clothing. Hair like black flames covered their face. They had a threatening, but still somewhat childish voice. I suppose it represents my fear of being betrayed by those I care for.

  3. Who else accidentally gave the “thing” a comic voice and made the experience a little funnier? Anyways, I liked the feeling of interaction and the way it is unique for each reader. 9/10

  4. Strange, I never heard of this creature before. Is it the fear dreading inside every human? Making them feel someone staring into their soul? Sounds like Jeffery, but as a misty gas in the air that has no body, unless you create it with your mind. It seems that each human has created their own after reading this. I guess I have one too, even though….whatever. It would look a person that is completely black, with a big, sharp, white smile, and with white blank eyes.

    Tell me yours?

    1. I imagined a small child wearing black clothing. Hair like black flames covered their face. They had a threatening, but still somewhat childish voice.

  5. This kind of brings me back to the older pasta days! lately I have felt these kinds of stories are a lost cause, but you sir/ma’am have rekindled my hope for this type of pasta. Although I personally didn’t find this super scary, I did enjoy reading it! You have good potential and I cant wait to see what comes next! 9/10

  6. This is definitely an interesting topic and definitely has the potential to be absolutely terrifying, but this was just poorly executed. But then again, reading this is better than paying attention in French class.

  7. What if I were to imagine us making out instead of giving him claws and stuff?

    Suddenly this story seems funny, doesn’t it?

  8. I liked it, even though I don’t really like the stories about someone watching me, because to me it seems more funny than creepy. I guess I don’t get scared easily. Yet, what I liked here is the face and voice that I imagined and the tulpa saying that whatever I created is now him, which makes me want to stop imagining him, but at the same time I have to. Good work, keep writing. 8/10

      1. I can too. That wasn’t the point though :) it could be anyone or anything else that is ‘creepy’. I just liked how the creature (or in this case tulpa) makes you think about him, even though you shouldn’t, because it makes him real.

  9. Nicola Marie Jackson

    Short and not sweet, I liked it. Maybe its lack of sleep on my part (sharing a sofa with four whippets is not conducive to a peaceful night) but when I’m picturing the entity at the bottom of the bed, I kinda got the impression he was strumming his meat guitar. But apart from that, pretty good 8/10. I would enjoy reading more of your stuff xxxx

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