The Sound Between Silence: Where The Echoes Never Die E-Book

J. A. Grayson

• Herausgeber: tredition
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 99

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

The Sound Between Silence – A House That Heard Everything, Where The Echoes Never Die In the quiet town of Fairhaven, the Holloway family vanished overnight. Their car sat untouched in the driveway, dinner remained half-eaten on the table, and their home—once ordinary—stood silent. But Detective Daniel Mercer quickly realized something was terribly wrong. The house had been listening. As Mercer delves deeper, he uncovers the terrifying legacy of Dr. Victor Langley, a scientist who believed that certain sound frequencies could separate human consciousness from the body. His experiments, buried beneath the Holloway house for decades, never truly ended. The walls whisper secrets, security cameras record only static and distant voices, and Mercer himself begins to hear something calling from the silence. When the Holloways return—but not as they were—Mercer faces an impossible choice: stop the force that lurks beneath the town or risk letting it spread beyond control. As reality distorts and the entity tightens its grip, he discovers that the only way to save Fairhaven… is to sacrifice someone to the sound-- Who will be the sacrifice? Months later, the town has moved on. The Holloways rescued have rebuilt their lives, and someone is remembered as a hero gone too soon. But when Linda Grayson, Mercer’s closest ally, receives an unsettling message from an unknown number—I hear you—she realizes the truth: The house may be gone… but still listening. A chilling blend of psychological horror, crime mystery, drama, and supernatural suspense, The Sound Between Silence will pull you into a world where sound is a door, and some echoes never fade.

Leseprobe

J. A. Grayson

The Sound Between Silence: Where The Echoes Never Die

A Seemingly Ordinary Home, A Family That Vanished Overnight, And A Hidden Room Of Dark Secrets

Copyright © 2025 by J. A. Grayson

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

J. A. Grayson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

J. A. Grayson has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

First edition

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DEDICATION

To the ones who listen when the silence speaks, who question the shadows that move just out of sight, and who dare to explore the unseen forces that shape our fears. This story is for those who know that reality is never as solid as it seems.

And to the restless voices—echoing in the walls, whispering in the dark—you are heard.

For the seekers of truth and the lovers of mystery, may this tale haunt you long after the last page is turned.

“We all have ghosts that whisper in the quiet—some are memories, some are regrets, and some were never human to begin with.”

—Alex Brown.

“The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”

—John Milton, Paradise Lost

“If you listen long enough to the silence, it will start to listen back.”

—Dr. Victor Langley’s last recorded words before his disappearance.

Contents

Prologue

1. THE VANISHING NIGHT

2. THE HOUSE THAT HEARD EVERYTHING

3. THE SECRET ROOM

4. THE LAST FAMILY

5. THE SOUND EXPERIMENT

6. THE NEIGHBOR’S SECRET

7. ETHAN’S DIGITAL FOOTPRINT

8. THE HOUSE LISTENS

9. THE RITUAL ROOM

10. THE RETURN OF THE HOLLOWAYS

11. THE HOUSE’S TRUE PURPOSE

12. THE FREQUENCY AWAKENS

13. THE CHOICE

14. THE SACRIFICE

15. THE AFTERMATH

Epilogue

About the Author

Also by J. A. Grayson

Prologue

chapter-seperator

The Holloway house had been standing for nearly a century.

A beautiful, ordinary home, nestled at the edge of town, where the streetlights ended and the woods began. White picket fence. Flower beds. A perfect place for a family.

Until the night they disappeared.

Detective Daniel Mercer had seen his share of strange cases, but nothing like this.

The Holloways—Michael, Lillian, Ethan, and Chloe—were gone.

No forced entry. No signs of struggle.

Their car was still in the driveway.

The front door was unlocked.

Dinner had been set on the table, half-eaten.

Nothing had been stolen. Nothing had been touched.

Except for the house itself.

The neighbors said they heard nothing that night.

But the house had.

Its walls had listened.

And somewhere in the silence, between the whispers and the static, it had heard everything.

Mercer stood in the dimly lit kitchen, staring at the untouched meal on the table, at the plates waiting for people who would never come back.

And then—a sound.

Faint.

A whisper, crawling through the walls, through the floorboards.

Something was still here.

Listening.

Waiting.

Mercer’s breath hitched as the whisper became a voice.

Soft. Close.

Right behind him.

“Detective Mercer…”

The lights flickered.

And the case began.

One

THE VANISHING NIGHT

chapter-seperator

The house stood still in the cold embrace of midnight, its black windows reflecting nothing but the void of the night. A crescent moon hung low, casting long, skeletal shadows across the Holloway family’s neatly trimmed lawn. The house itself was pristine—too pristine.

Detective Daniel Mercer knew something was wrong the moment he stepped out of his car.

The Holloway residence wasn’t the kind of place that invited trouble. A two-story home in a quiet neighborhood, white picket fence, a driveway that still had the family’s SUV parked in its usual spot. Porch light on. The smell of rain still lingered in the air from the earlier drizzle, making the night feel even heavier.

Yet, the air around the house felt off.

Mercer approached the front door, his heartbeat steady but expectant. He had been in homicide for over two decades, and his instincts had been sharpened by the kind of cases that kept detectives awake long after the reports were filed.

The door was unlocked.

That was the first sign.

His hand hesitated over the knob. He took a breath, pushed the door open.

Inside, the house was silent. But not the kind of peaceful silence a home should have at night. This was unnatural silence. The kind that felt forced. The kind that watched you.

The entryway led to a warmly lit living room, undisturbed. Shoes by the door. Coats still hanging on the rack. Mercer stepped inside, his boots barely making a sound against the hardwood floors.

And then he saw the dining table.

Four plates. Half-eaten meals. Two glasses of wine, one of milk. A baby carrot on the floor, as if knocked over in haste. Silverware placed neatly—except for one fork, lying at an odd angle near the edge.

Mercer’s pulse quickened.

The Holloway family was gone.

But they hadn’t left.

They had vanished.

Within the hour, the house was swarming with officers. Yellow crime scene tape cut through the once-cozy home, sealing it off like a wound that refused to heal. Mercer stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, watching as his team moved through the house, checking for any sign of forced entry.

There was none.

Officer Tyler, a young recruit with wide eyes and a nervous energy, approached him. “Sir, uh… you need to see this.”

Mercer followed Tyler upstairs. The hallway was lined with framed pictures of the Holloway family—Michael, Lillian, Ethan, and Chloe. Smiling. Frozen in moments that no longer existed.

Tyler stopped at Chloe’s room.

The door was ajar. Inside, the nightlight cast an eerie glow on the pink walls. Stuffed animals neatly arranged on the bed. Nothing out of place. Except…

The closet door.

It was open—just a crack.

Mercer frowned. “You checked inside?”

Tyler swallowed hard. “Yes, sir. That’s the thing… You need to listen.”

He stepped forward, slowly pushed the closet door wider. The hinges groaned slightly, revealing darkness. The closet was empty.

But then Mercer heard it.

A whisper.

Faint. Almost imperceptible.

“We’re still here.”

Mercer’s skin went cold. He took a step back, exhaling slowly.

“Who else heard that?” he asked, keeping his voice steady.

Tyler nodded, his face pale. “I thought I was imagining it, sir. But it’s real. We checked for hidden speakers—nothing. And the recording devices the tech team set up? They’re picking up static, but no whisper.”

Mercer clenched his jaw. He wasn’t a believer in the supernatural. He dealt in cold, hard facts. Evidence. Logic. But there was something in this house—something unseen—and it was watching.

Downstairs, Mercer sat across from the Holloways’ next-door neighbor, Martha Grayson. A frail woman in her late sixties, Martha had been the one to call the police after noticing the Holloways’ home had remained eerily undisturbed for over a day.

Her hands trembled slightly as she gripped her cup of tea. “I don’t know what to tell you, Detective. One moment, they were there… the next, gone.”

Mercer studied her. “Did you hear anything? See anything unusual?”

Martha hesitated.

She darted a glance toward the staircase, as if expecting someone—or something—to appear.

Then, in a hushed voice, she said, “I saw them leave.”

Mercer sat up straighter. “You saw the Holloways leave?”

She nodded. “It was late. Maybe around midnight. I was up because… well, I have trouble sleeping these days. I saw them walk out the front door. All four of them.”

Mercer narrowed his eyes. “Did they look distressed?”

Martha’s lips quivered.

“No,” she whispered. “That’s the thing. They looked… empty. They just walked. Slow. Like they weren’t really there. And then…” She swallowed hard, voice dropping lower.

“…I realized I couldn’t see their faces.”

Mercer felt a shiver run down his spine. “What do you mean?”

Martha’s hands gripped her teacup tighter.

“I mean their faces were just… blurry. Like the air was bending around them. Like something wasn’t letting me see them clearly.”

Mercer sat back. He had seen his fair share of unreliable witnesses. People whose minds played tricks on them. But Martha’s terror was real.

And deep down, he believed her.

Back at the station, Mercer listened to the only piece of evidence they had from the security system.

The footage showed the house at 11:58 PM. Nothing moved. The front porch light flickered once. Then, at exactly midnight, the cameras cut to static.

No footage of the Holloways leaving.

Just thirteen seconds of eerie, distorted audio before the feed returned to normal.

Mercer pressed play.

A low hum filled the speakers. Then, a whisper.

“They never left.”

Static.

Then silence.

Mercer exhaled slowly, staring at the screen.

The Holloways were gone. But not in the way that made sense.

Something had taken them.

Or worse—they were still in the house.

Waiting. Watching.

And if he listened too long…

He might hear them whispering, too.

Two

THE HOUSE THAT HEARD EVERYTHING

chapter-seperator

Detective Daniel Mercer arrived at the Holloway residence just as the first rays of morning light broke through the overcast sky. The house stood unchanged—pristine, quiet, undisturbed—as if the family hadn’t vanished into thin air less than forty-eight hours ago.

But Mercer knew better.

He knew that houses—like people—had secrets. Some whispered them. Some hid them in the walls. And some… some refused to let go of what they had taken.

The forensic team was still inside, combing through every inch of the place, but Mercer wasn’t hopeful. If this were a standard missing persons case, they would have found something by now—a broken window, a forced door, a single clue pointing toward a rational explanation.

Instead, they had nothing.

Except for the security footage.

And that was what worried him most.

The laptop sat on the Holloways’ dining table, surrounded by forensic equipment and half-drunk cups of coffee from exhausted officers.

Sergeant Linda Grayson—a seasoned tech analyst—looked up as Mercer approached. She had been working the case since midnight, her sharp green eyes framed by dark circles.

“You’re gonna want to see this,” she muttered, pushing the laptop toward him.

Mercer leaned over the screen.

The footage was timestamped 11:58 PM, the night the Holloways vanished.

At first, the front yard looked normal. The porch light flickered once, then stabilized. The camera, set at a wide-angle view, showed the sidewalk, the driveway, and the front entrance. Nothing moved.

Then, at exactly midnight, the screen glitched.

Not a power surge. Not interference. Something else.

The footage jumped—static replacing the visuals. Not blackness, not a loss of feed, just… pure static