The Eerie Voices

I have been a voiceprint analyst for many years, dealing with all kinds of voices every day. Those voices from crime scenes include the last cries for help of the victims before they breathe their last, and the curses of the murderers when they are caught. Having heard so many of them, no matter how bloody or terrifying they are, I can always calm down and find the key to solving the cases from them.

However, a recording brought by Officer Li one day completely turned my understanding of "horror" upside down.

"This was recorded at the scene of a murder in a villa on the outskirts of the city last night. The victim was a lonely elderly person who died of a heart attack. The strange thing is that there are no signs of a struggle at the scene, but the fear on the old man's face is almost overwhelming." Officer Li frowned and handed me a USB flash drive. When I reached out to take it, my fingertips trembled for no apparent reason. A chill ran up my spine, and the feeling of unease in my heart grew like wild grass.

Back in my studio, I closed all the doors and windows tightly and drew the thick curtains, blocking out all the light outside. Only then did I shiveringly open the recording file and put on the professional headphones that had accompanied me in solving numerous cases.

At first, the silence was so suffocating that the whole world seemed to be under a freezing spell, and time stopped. Then, a faint sound of breathing crept into my ears. It wasn't the breathing of one person, but the intertwined breaths of many. Some were panting so rapidly as if they had just finished a life-or-death marathon, their chests heaving violently, and each breath filled with panic; some were so slow that they seemed on the verge of death, with only a faint breath left, as if they could breathe their last at any moment; some were so close that it seemed as if they were right beside my ear, and the warm and strange-smelling breath rushed towards my face; some were so far away that they seemed to come from the underworld, carrying an endless chill, piercing through layers of darkness and seeping into my bones. These breaths overlapped layer by layer, forming a terrifying net that tightly enveloped me.

Just as my back was turning cold, a hoarse voice that was beyond description suddenly emerged: "Can you... hear us?" This voice didn't seem to come from the headphones. Instead, it was as if there was an invisible thing right next to my ear, spitting out coldness word by word. My neck felt chilly, as if it had been scratched by ice shards. I shuddered violently, and my heart seemed to be clutched tightly by a cold hand, beating wildly and chaotically, as if it was about to burst out of my chest.

The recording continued, and more voices rushed in like a flood bursting its banks. The whimpering of the old man, bent by the weight of years, was full of vicissitudes and despair; the crying of the child, sharp and helpless, was particularly piercing in the silent night; the roar of the man, filled with anger and unwillingness, made my eardrums ache; the scream of the woman, shrill and terrifying, seemed to be crying out for the endless fear. Their words were fragmented: "Help me..." "It's so cold..." "Why did you abandon us..." Each word was like a sharp knife, slashing deeply at my nerves, leaving streaks of pain. What was even more terrifying was that these voices seemed to be able to see through the screen and know that I was listening. Sometimes they whispered softly, and the faint sound circled in my head, making me feel anxious; sometimes they suddenly let out a piercing scream, almost breaking my eardrums and leaving my mind blank. Even worse, they actually called out my name: "Xiao Chen... Xiao Chen..."

I was so scared that I ripped off the headphones at once. Cold sweat poured out instantly, soaking through my back clothes. Beads of sweat rolled down from my forehead and hit the cold tabletop, splashing into small water droplets. How could this be possible?

Officer Li noticed something was wrong with me and asked with concern, "What's the matter?" I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, but my voice still trembled badly: "This recording... is too strange. I need more professional equipment to analyze it."

Back in the laboratory, I imported the recording into the voiceprint analysis system. As the complex waveform diagram slowly unfolded on the screen, I discovered something even more terrifying — the frequencies of these voices were far beyond the range that human vocal cords can produce. It was like a roar from another world, carrying a strange fluctuation that didn't belong to this world. Moreover, each voice was accompanied by a strange echo, as if it had traveled through endless time and space, coming from a bottomless dark space, carrying the distortion and chaos in the time tunnel.

I seemed to be possessed by some evil force and, on an impulse, decided to talk to these voices. My hands shaking badly, I opened the microphone and asked cautiously, "Who... are you?" As soon as the words left my mouth, the recording suddenly cut off. Then, there was a sharp and ear-piercing noise, like countless metals rubbing against each other, scratching my bones painfully, or like fingernails scratching a blackboard hard, making my whole body covered with goosebumps and my hair stand on end. When the sound came back again, I heard a voice that was so familiar it made my heart stop — it was my grandmother who had passed away many years ago.

"Xiao Chen," she said with a sob, "I miss you so much..." In an instant, my heart almost stopped beating, my hands and feet turned cold, and my blood seemed to freeze in my veins. This couldn't be possible! My grandmother's voice, tone, and even the slight cough she had every time she spoke were exactly the same as in my memory, and the trembling at the end of her words was identical.

"Grandma?" My lips trembled, and my voice was filled with sobs. My throat seemed to be choked by something, and it was difficult to make a sound.

"It's me," she replied. "We're all here... so cold... so dark..." Suddenly, the voice began to distort. My grandmother's voice mixed with those other eerie voices, turning into a noise that made me on the verge of a mental breakdown. My head felt as if it was about to explode, and it hurt terribly. I desperately tried to turn off the device with both hands, but the screen flickered non-stop, and the system was completely out of control.

I saw the sound wave diagram on the screen jumping wildly, with the lines twisting and tangling chaotically. Finally, it gradually formed a horribly distorted human face. It slowly opened its mouth and let out a deafening scream: "We've found you!"

My legs went weak, and I fell to the ground with a thud. The device emitted a pungent smell of sparks. When I struggled to get up, I was horrified to find that the walls of the laboratory were covered with dense handprints, as if countless invisible hands were beating and crying for help in despair. The handprints were of different depths, as if telling the pain and unwillingness of their previous lives.

What was even worse was that my recording device turned on by itself and recorded a new voice — it was my voice, but it was saying words that I had never said before: "You're next..."

The next day, I took a sick leave and locked myself in a dim room. But those voices were like vengeful ghosts that I couldn't get rid of. When it was quiet at night, I could clearly hear them whispering in the dark corners, their voices rising and falling, as if plotting something; when walking on a busy street, I could also distinguish their sinister calls from the noisy crowd. Each call was like an icy hook, hooking onto my soul and trying to drag me into the abyss.

I began to frantically investigate the history of that villa. It turned out that it had been a field hospital during World War II. Many precious lives were lost there, and their pain, despair, and unwillingness seemed to be trapped in a crack in time and space, lingering there and never leaving. The old man who had a heart attack was exactly the chief physician at that time.

Now, these trapped voices have set their sights on me. They long to be heard, and even more, they want... to find a substitute to escape from that dark and cold place.

Last night, I saw them again in my nightmare. Countless blurred figures stretched out their hands towards me from all directions. Their emaciated fingers were like withered branches, trying to drag me into their world. I woke up in a cold sweat, only to find that an old-fashioned recording pen had somehow appeared beside my pillow.

I shivered and pressed the play button. I heard my own voice, cold and mechanical, without a trace of emotion, filled with endless despair: "Welcome to join us..."

I knew in my heart that this was just the beginning. Those voices wouldn't stop until... I became one of them.

Now, every time I'm alone, I can truly feel their presence. They whisper in my ear and echo constantly in my mind. Sometimes, I unconsciously record my own voice, and when I play it back, I find that it is mixed with the painful cries and crazy laughter of others.

Maybe one day, when you hear a strange recording, my voice... might also be in it.

Remember, some voices should never be listened to too carefully...

Because once you hear them, they will haunt you until they drag you into the endless abyss of darkness.