The Voice

This is an erotic FICTION story. This is purely for entertainment and never meant to happen in reality. Some elements were taken from a creepypasta that does not have a listed author.

"Errr...Hi, ma'am," the nicely dressed woman at my front door says. She's a twenty-something who looks rather nervous. Not rob-your-house nervous, but she looks as if she doesn't want to be here type nervous. And the fact she just called me ma'am when I think I'm younger than her proves this.

"Ummm, hello," I reply to the woman that rang my doorbell with a smile, making sure to keep the front door somewhat shut so she can't see inside, just in case this is some sort of scope-out. This woman is literally the first person to come to my house uninvited so forgive me if I'm a bit on edge.

"I'm Michelle, and I know this is really weird. Really super weird, and I don't mean to make you worried or nervous or anything...but...have you heard anything strange lately? In the house?" the woman, who I guess is named Michelle asks, making direct eye contact with me.

For a moment it feels like someone uses a low wattage cow prod or something on me the way I feel. My heart begins to pound and my stomach sinks while my body turns to ice. There's even hairs on the back of my neck that stand up.

How would she know? How in the hell would she know about the weird-ass stuff that's been going on here? Not to mention that she said "heard." Have I "heard" anything weird, not seen or experienced, but heard. That makes the fear I have of all of this zoom to panic levels.

"I...I..." I begin, trying hard to seem calm and not crazy. I'm not really sure what to say or what not to say in this situation. I've no clue who she is or what she could want, so what do I reveal? I guess the first thing to do is figure out how she would know anything strange has happened? Could this entire thing be some sort of scam? Is she behind it? Could a person or persons be behind me losing my fucking mind?!

"Like I said, I know this is really, really super mega-weird," Michelle says and from her tone and demeanor I can tell she's being real. I also get the feeling that there's no sinister plot here. If there is, she's a damn good actor. I can feel the awkward vibes coming off of her like heat. What I don't feel is her trying to look about the house or fish for information.

"You want to come inside?" I offer, thinking that it is a bit odd to have a conversation like this outside. Does seem a bit rude or maybe mistrusting. Makes me feel that I'm the gate keeper preventing people from entering my home because I don't think they are good enough. Plus...not sure what the neighbors will think.

"NO!" Michelle damn near yells at my offer, her eyes widening to show real fear. Her hands raise up in a defensive manner as if I'm about to grab and pull her inside.

Right after doing this she quickly calms her freak out and tries to smile while her face burns red. She gives me a forced smile, the type you get only after you have made a fool of yourself.

"S-S-Sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yelp like that. But no. No. I rather stay out here if that's ok with you," Michelle says. I don't think she even notices that she's taken a couple of steps back as if to put even more distance between the house and herself. The way she says this you might think that to go inside is a death sentence.

It's clear she's scared of my house. I would even say terrified. Again, why? What does she know? Or does she know something? Or is this again the work of a master conman?

"It's ok. Why would you ask about the house Michelle?" I question, trying to get any information I can before either of us freak out. Upon hearing my question, the semi pretty woman takes a breath and sighs.

"I used to live here, years ago," Michelle reveals but doesn't say it in joyful way. In fact, the way she says it makes me think it's the way someone says they been in jail. There's no joy in it, just information.

"I only lived here for a very short time. A friend that lives down the street reached out and told me that new people moved into my old house. I...I couldn't live with myself unless, you know, unless I warned whoever was living here, you know?" Michelle tells me, again looking rather embarrassed at saying this.

"Oh, ok," I reply, noting the sincerity in her eyes. My heart is still pounding at this strange encounter where I'm not sure what I'm supposed to feel. I want to say this chick is for real, especially with all that's happened in the house, but what if she's crazy? Or again, running some sort of scam?

I feel my eyes narrow as I consider her last statement. This house has sat empty for a good eight months before we moved in. I know because I was shocked when I heard that. Houses in this middle class area normally have a one day turnaround. They go on the market Monday, sold on Tuesday. But somehow, someway this place didn't get sold for eight months.

I remember thinking how strange that was as the house wasn't in need of any real repairs. It isn't the best house ever, but it's fine for what it is. I mean, there are houses in this very neighborhood that are a hell of a lot worse that sell extremely fast. Despite this, no one was able to give me an answer to why this was, not the real estate guy, not the seller, not even the people I've talked to around here.

"Please know, this is super awkward for me as I'm sure it is for you. I'm not here trying to get anything or sell you crap, I just want to warn you. I feel really stupid right now, but like I said, I wouldn't be able to live with myself unless I tried," Michelle says in a rather sweet manner, revealing that sincerity again.

I smile at this but don't know what to say. On purpose I don't want to say anything about the house. I've had people try to scam me before so I know discussing the supernatural tends to be a way in. Some grifter will get a mark to say some weird story they have, unknowingly giving up a lot of personal details. They just need a single detail to latch on to and from it they can make you give up all sorts of valuable information.

"It...it was a v-v-voice, at first," Michelle reveals, her voice quivering just a tiny bit as she says this, revealing how scared she is of it.

Again the feeling of fear hits me. I clutch the door as I sway, not wanting to give up what that sentence just did to me. What it means. That it just confirmed what I feared, and I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

"When it started...my husband never heard it. I don't know if that was because whatever it is only wanted me to hear it, or if it was because I was a woman, or maybe because my husband was hard of hearing or something. Whatever the reason, only I heard it," Michelle explains, her voice quivering, making that shiver of fear run up my spine.

"Chill Rebecca," I tell myself, truly about to freak out. This could still be a scam. After all everyone has a voice. Just like everyone's heard some weird voice at some point in their lives. It doesn't mean she's saying the same thing you have heard. It could be totally different. This chick could be fishing for details, wanting me to jump in and say what I've heard. Who knows.

"I remember the first time I heard that voice. Despite all the times I heard it, all the craziness that occurred, I still remember the first time because it was just so...shocking," Michelle says, her eyes getting watery as her body starts to tremble. She's even gone a bit pale as if the sheer memory of the fear is hitting her.

"My...my husband was on an overnight trip for work. He sometimes had to go on those because he needed to go to a meeting at some nearby city," Michelle explains, her face smiling as she thinks of her husband.

"I was alone in the house, upstairs in bed, watching TV, preparing to go to sleep...when I heard him call my name from downstairs. It was his voice, only...it couldn't have been him. It couldn't have. I had just Facetimed him not but a minute before. Facetimed with him where I saw the sign for his company in the background, complete with the city's name. There was no way he was downstairs," Michelle tells me, her voice quivering much harder now.

"B-B-But..." I start, feeling downright dizzy at hearing this. She said it called her name. It said her name.

I'm not sure if I'm to be happy about this, or upset. Or if it would be smart to tell her to get the fuck out of here or beg her to tell me what's going on. My mind becomes flooded with questions now. It makes the fear and worry that I've felt for all these weeks feel solidified.

"I know. I thought the same thing. I Facetimed my husband immediately, expecting him to pick up from the kitchen laughing at such a great prank. But no. He was walking to his hotel, clearly not in the house or the same city," Michelle reveals.

"After I hung up with him, I thought what I heard would haunt me forever, you know? That it would be a story I tell people where they would never believe it. My own silly little ghost story to tell around a campfire. Some stupid memory that becomes not real with time. Only...my husband's voice called from downstairs again, even after I Facetimed him. Even after I talked to my real husband, I heard that voice calling my name," Michelle tells me, her body trembling.

I can feel how pale I am. All the color has drained out upon hearing this as I know exactly what she means. Lord help me I wish I didn't, but I do. I've heard the voice too.

"W-W-What else did it say?" I ask, trying hard to remain calm and not freak out. I try hard not to show that I believe I know what she's talking about. Oh Lord help me, I want to remain a normal person and not some crazy weirdo.

"My name. Only ever my name," Michelle answers, making my stomach churn. I asked that thinking if this was a scam, she would have said it said other things. But no. It's the same.

All the hairs stick up as I remember my first night alone in the house. It was night and I was taking a bath, relaxing after a trying day. While in the tub, I heard Paul, who is my husband, call for me. I heard him call my name as if asking me to join him downstairs. But Paul wasn't home. He went to Vegas for the weekend, yet I heard his voice as I sat in the tub, saying my name from downstairs.

"You've heard it," Michelle says in a troubled tone, no doubt seeing my reaction. There's no excitement on her face, but worry. Pity and worry.

"W-W-What happened after that? I mean, did you ever do anything about it? Did anything else happen?" I stammer out, both of us knowing the truth now.

Michelle pauses for a moment, looking like she wants to say a great many things upon learning that I've experienced something similar. Only she holds back and nods once as if to say she understands. That she's been through the exact same.

"I was always too scared to go downstairs, so I never did. Any time I was alone in the house, night or day, it would call my name at least once. Didn't matter if it was with the sun shining in during the day, or in the dark of night when I was asleep," Michelle says her eyes looking straight into mine.

"That fucking voice," Michelle then hisses, showing a bit of anger now. Like she hates the thing. Tears actually roll down her cheek from this emotion, revealing there's a lot that must have happened.

"It was like something knew when I was alone. I don't think I wanted to admit it at the time, but that would mean it was always there. Always watching," Michelle hisses, her anger building.

"I thought I was going to lose my fucking mind. That whatever it was, would drive me crazy unless I could prove it existed," Michelle continues.

"You put in the cameras," I state upon making this connection. There are cameras in every room of the house, even the bathrooms. I had never seen this before and thought it was super strange as cameras are normally only on the outside of a house. It was clear this was done for a reason, but the real estate guy couldn't say why.

Michelle nods her head to confirm that this is what she did. There's even a soft smile as if she is saying that I would have done the same. That any rational person would have done that.

"My husband is the one that had them installed. He believed what I told him and was sure it was some psycho messing with me. Oh, how he went on and on about how serial killers had their rituals and the psycho needed to get me to go downstairs to start the ritual. Not only did he put those cameras, but extra locks on every door that mattered and even had a security company come out to search for any secret doors," Michelle reveals.

I smile at hearing this, not because of what she had to do, but because it sounds like she has a good husband. It takes a good five minute argument to get my husband to believe anything that I say. Hell, he forgets most of what we talk about and then will talk about it later as if it was from some other person.

"I'm not trying to draw this out. To be honest, I don't like being here. But to answer you, nothing visual was ever found. The voice was recorded again and again, sure, but when we checked the footage to see what or who was doing it, there was never anyone in the house. No one was downstairs at all," Michelle reveals.

"Whatever was in the house, it got worse. Much worse," Michelle adds, looking as if she is becoming more emotional. More tears roll down her cheek, but this time she seems much stronger as she looks at me.

"I started to see things, things that weren't there. Things that were impossible, that shouldn't exist," Michelle states, becoming emotional. Her eyes become watery again, making me wonder what the hell did she see.

"I can't tell you what to do, but I will say there's something in that house. Something evil. Something that hungers. If I were you, do what I did and get the fuck out, now," Michelle warns as serious as a heart attack.

"Rebecca," my husband calls, making me jump for a moment as I was so engrossed in what Michelle was saying.

"Son of a bitch," I grunt upon putting my hand to my head as my heart leaped to my throat. Paul calls from his "man cave" where he's no doubt playing some PS5 game and wanting a beer. He sure loves to do that, asking me to get him his food or drink saying how he can't leave the game but he'll make it up to me.

"I...I...I...I'm sorry. I don't mean to bother you. I...I just wanted to warn you," Michelle then says and backs up rather quickly. Her eyes are wide with fear, making it seem like I'm pointing a gun at her or something.

"W-Wait, Michelle," I call out, not wanting her to go. I have so many questions that she can't leave. She's the first person I feel that I can actually talk to about the craziness here. Someone that might know what to do.

"Michelle!" I yell, almost panicking as she hurriedly walks away. Confused I watch as she starts to half jog to the car that's parked in front of my house. Towards the end, she gives up the act and bolts as fast as she can to it. There she rushes inside and damn near peels off as if in a Fast and Furious movie.

"Motherfucker," I curse under my breath as I watch her drive off. If only I got her email or Instra or something. A way to reach out and talk to her. It feels like she's the only one I can talk to about this.

Upset, I walk back to the house, that pit in my stomach easing a bit as well as getting worse. Not sure how to describe it, but I'm both extremely happy I met Michelle, as well as hating that I did. I am thankful for it as it makes me think that I'm not crazy as I had been fearing I was. But it also means what is happening is real.

I just don't get why she ran off like that. It's not like I threatened her or anything. That's how she acted, like she got spooked and scared. Not sure what could have done that.

Stepping back inside the house, I shut the front door. As I do, I consider reaching out to the real estate guy to see if he has Michelle's contact information. I'm not sure she was the last person to live here, but if she was, I could send her an email or something. Maybe we could meet for coffee or a drink somewhere far from here. Somewhere she would feel safe.

I open my mouth to yell back at Paul, as it sure seems like he's the catalyst to why she got spooked. That of all the times he had to butt into a conversation, why did it have to be now? Not sure if the chick is scared of men or something, but if he hadn't opened his stupid mouth she would probably still be here.

My body turns to stone and I stop moving as ice cold fear moves over me, paralyzing me for just a moment. Paul isn't here. Yes, it's Saturday and he's normally off on Saturday's, but not today. Today's he's at work. There's a special meeting at his work that lasts from ten to noon.

Freaked out, I stand in the living room, feeling dread and fear move over me like it does so often. That's why the chick fled. She must have heard the voice and knew what it was. Or maybe she didn't hear Paul's voice, but her own husband's? Oh, I don't know. But I'm sure that's why she fled.

But...I'm downstairs. And it's daytime. I've never heard the voice like this. It's always been upstairs and at night. I've heard it at least a dozen times, but never during the day.

What does that mean? I've no clue what it means. No. No, that's a lie. I do know what it means, just don't want to admit it. Just like I don't want to admit that something is wrong here. How I pretend to all my friends and family the house is perfect when I know it's far from being ok. I know what the voice reaching out during the day means, and that scares the piss out of me. It means whatever it is, is getting stronger.

I'm not a big drinker but I walk to the kitchen and fix myself a drink. Well, more like a shot. I shoot the whiskey, hoping for it to settle my nerves and prepare me for when I hear that voice again. To help me think of what to do.

If Michelle had stayed, I could have told her about the closet. Oh hell, it would have been so nice to tell someone about it and for them to know I wasn't crazy. Maybe the same thing happened to her. Maybe she even knows how to stop it. Man, I got to get her info. I have to talk to her.

I fix myself another drink as the memory of the closet plays out in my head. It was just a normal weeknight where I was getting ready for bed. I say getting ready, but I was already in bed, watching TV. Paul of course was playing whatever shooting game with his online friends so he was off doing that. I love the man, but more often than not he curses himself for playing well into the night when he has to get up early for work.

"The invasion or whatever you call it go good?" I had asked him as he walked into the bedroom. The TV in the bedroom is mounted high in the middle of the room, above the bathroom door since that's where the bed points. When Paul had come in, I was in the midst of watching a very intense fight scene from GoT and didn't want to miss any of it.

"Huh hon? You get the bad guys?" I asked as Paul walked from the bedroom door directly to the bathroom door. He had been going on and on all day about an assault or ambush his team was setting up, so I was trying to check on how it went. But Paul didn't say anything.

At first I thought maybe he had earbuds in and didn't hear me. Or it was because he needed to use the restroom really badly and wanted to go before talking to me. Only he didn't shut the bathroom door like he does when he goes into the restroom. Instead, from the corner of my eye I saw him walk into the bathroom where he went to his closet, stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

I remember thinking how odd this was because he normally opens his closet door, leans in to get whatever, but this time he walked all the way inside. Not just that, but he closed the door behind him until the latch clicked.