Strange things have always happened in my house, but lately, something has been happening that I can’t explain. It’s not just noises or shadows in the corner of my eye—this is different. Something in my home has been copying my voice.
It started on a random afternoon. I had gone to the grocery store but realized I forgot my wallet. Frustrated, I drove back home, knowing the house was empty. My kids were at school, my husband was at work, and no one else had a key.
As I stepped inside, my two cats, Smokey and Ash, ran to greet me. I barely had time to step over them when I heard it.
A voice.
My voice.
It came from the next room, calling the cats’ names in the same way I always did when giving them treats. My heart stopped.
Smokey and Ash froze too. Their ears perked up, eyes locked on the kitchen doorway like they saw something I couldn’t.
I stood there, holding my breath. Was someone in my house? How did they get in? And why did they sound exactly like me?
With shaky steps, I walked toward the kitchen, the cats trailing behind. My fingers hovered over my phone, ready to call for help, but when I turned the corner—
Nothing.
The kitchen was empty. The house was silent, except for the sound of my own breathing. I checked every room. The doors were locked. No one was there.
I told myself I must have imagined it. Maybe I was just tired. Maybe the house creaked in a way that sounded like a voice.
I tried to forget about it. Until it happened again.
A week later, my neighbor and friend, Lisa, dropped off some supplies she had picked up for me. She had called earlier, and I told her to leave them on the porch because I wouldn’t be home until later.
That evening, she called me, sounding confused.
“Why didn’t you answer the door?”
I frowned. “I wasn’t home.”
There was silence on the other end before she spoke again.
“I saw you,” she said. “You were walking around inside. I even heard you talking to someone.”
A chill ran down my spine.
I assured her it wasn’t me, but she didn’t sound convinced. Lisa isn’t the kind of person to joke about ghosts. We both quietly decided to drop the conversation.
But deep down, I knew something was wrong.
Then, the last thing happened.
One night, I was sitting in the living room with my son, Will. We were trying to pick a movie, just talking casually, when we heard it.
A loud, clear voice rang through the room:
“Turn that down!”
It was my voice. But I hadn’t said a word.
Will’s face went pale. He stared at me, eyes wide.
“How did you do that without moving your lips?”
I felt sick. I didn’t know how to answer.
The house was silent again, but the air felt heavy, like something unseen was still in the room with us, watching.
That was weeks ago, and I still don’t know what’s happening. Is it a ghost? A mimic? A shadow of myself from another time or place?
All I know is that something in my house is speaking.
And it sounds just like me.