Tag Archives: sound

Narration of “Know Thy Neighbour”

Nearly two years ago I posted my short story “Know Thy Neighbour” on Reddit’s NoSleep community. Strange things happen on the internet, because somehow, about a year later, Craig of Chilling Tales for Dark Nights discovered the story and managed to win amazing voice actress Lynne Darlington to narrate the main voice and Jeff Clement to speak the male voice and do sound design and post-production. The result is a chilling and wonderful narration and now I want to congratulate particularly Lynne, and also Craig and Jeff, as their narration and with it an excerpt of my story will be featured in the next edition of one of the reference works of voice acting.

If you haven’t yet – listen in, to “Know Thy Neighbour”:

It just won’t stop ringing

It was always there. When I was young it came rarely, maybe when I was close to crossing the street and hadn’t looked left and right yet, or when I left a sharp knife on the kitchen counter, or that time when I was at the supermarket and there was a man that kept following me for four or five aisles, until I found mom again.

I think it somehow connects to my intuition. I’ve heard others describe that they can feel a shiver on the back of their spine, or that the hair on their arms stands up when they are nervous. For me the only time the hair stands up is when I’m cold.

And else, when I’m scared, there is the bell.

I can’t remember the first time I heard it. The first memory I have of hearing it, when I was at my grandmothers’ place at the strange round pile of stones, and I was digging through the stones to look for rabbit babies, when it was ringing, thundering in my ears, I wasn’t surprised or scared. I must have heard it before. It started ringing, loud and clear, and when I kept digging it got louder, as if a huge church bell was slowly moved closer to me, ringing more vigorously and faster with every single stone that I pulled to the side.

Maybe grandma heard the bell too. I remember she came running, screaming for me to get away from the well. I was on top of some of the stones. And the stones started moving. And grandma grabbed my arm, but my legs, they fell with the stones and hit against the wall. I remember how grandma’s arm shivered when she pulled me out of the hole. She was old then already, maybe 60 or 70, and she was the same thin that she has always been in my memory.

“Hold onto me,” she said. “Hold onto me.”

And below us, far below, I heard the stones hitting a hard floor. Continue reading