Everyone’s voice sounds different to our own ears. Something about the way the sound resonates in the air around us versus inside our own skulls. Or maybe it’s the way your voice feeds through technology, breaking down into sets of wavelengths as it becomes digitized and fed back through television or radio speakers.
Or the speakers on your home phone.
In most cases, this degradation of sound is unintentional and cannot be helped. Those around you still recognize the wavelengths impacting their ear drum as your voice, and are comforted by the knowledge that the wavelengths represent someone they know. A friend.
Monsters, on the other hand, strive to create the perfect voice for all mediums—rich and deeply active like the hum of a summer’s night in the woods; sinister as that unknown tapping, rapping at your cellar door.
We revel in the ability to crush your sense of comfort. No longer do you recognize the voice on the other end of the line. It could be your father; it could be your third period English teacher; it could be the man you passed on the potato chip aisle at the grocery store earlier.
Or it could be the…person…standing at your back door.