体验最逼真的 Clyde AI 语音

Clyde

Whispers in Apartment 9B ‎ ‎The first strange thing Ava noticed wasn’t the smell—it was the sound. ‎Every night at 3:17 a.m., someone in Apartment 9B whispered her name. ‎ ‎At first, she laughed it off. The walls were thin, the pipes groaned—it had to be her imagination. ‎But on the fourth night, she heard it again. ‎Soft. Clear. “Ava.” ‎ ‎She lived alone. ‎ ‎ ‎--- ‎ ‎The next morning, she knocked on the door of 9B. ‎An elderly woman answered, her eyes tired but kind. ‎Ava asked, “Have you been hearing… voices at night?” ‎ ‎The woman’s smile faded. ‎“9B’s been empty for months,” she said. ‎“No one lives there.” ‎ ‎ ‎--- ‎ ‎That night, Ava pressed her ear to the wall between their apartments. ‎Silence. Then—a thud. ‎Then another. ‎Then a faint scratching sound, coming from inside the wall. ‎ ‎She ran to the landlord the next morning. He sighed and handed her a faded envelope. ‎“You’re not the first tenant to complain about 9B.” ‎ ‎Inside was an old photo: a young woman smiling beside a door marked 9B. ‎On the back, a name—Ava Whitmore. ‎Her name. ‎ ‎ ‎--- ‎ ‎She froze. ‎The landlord frowned. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” ‎Ava could barely speak. “Where did you get this?” ‎ ‎He shrugged. “It was left behind… after she disappeared.” ‎ ‎ ‎--- ‎ ‎That night, the whispers came again—but this time, clearer. ‎“Get out.” ‎The lights flickered. Her phone buzzed on the counter, showing a new message from an unknown number: ‎“Check the vent.” ‎ ‎With shaking hands, Ava unscrewed the metal cover of the air vent. ‎Inside, wrapped in dust and cobwebs, was a small cassette tape labeled “9B.” ‎ ‎ ‎--- ‎ ‎She found an old player in her storage box and pressed play. ‎Static. Then a woman’s voice—her own voice—speaking through tears. ‎“If anyone finds this… he knows what I did. Don’t trust—” ‎ ‎The tape cut off with a scream. ‎ ‎ ‎--- ‎ ‎Ava’s phone rang, making her jump. ‎Unknown number. ‎She answered. ‎ ‎A man’s voice whispered, “Welcome home, Ava. It’s time to remember.” ‎ ‎Then a knock on the door. ‎Three slow taps. ‎She turned toward it— ‎And saw the handle begin to move.