A Desolation Called Peace Novels & Stories

Two can play that game. I wrapped my legs around his neck and twisted his left arm, he gasped for air. We locked eyes as we violently choked each other. Tears welled up in our eyes, our faces red as a tomato. When I started to see white spots, he lifted his right hand and spoke. "Truce." "Truce." I replied and let him go. We both coughed violently and glared at each other. I rolled to my side and laid on my back, trying to catch my breath.

"Amara, I’ve been thinking about the Final Record. About what Elian said. A year of peace. Do you think we’ve really done it? Is the monster finally dead?" I thought about the vial in the vault. I thought about the broken zip tie. "The monster isn't dead, Tunde. It’s just sleeping. And it stays sleeping as long as we choose mercy every morning. Peace isn't a destination; it’s a rhythm. It’s the way you walk, the way you talk to the seedlings, the way you forgive the person who steps on your toes." Tunde nodded, closing the journal with a reverent touch. "Then I’ll keep writing. I’ll write about the fear, too. So they know that peace isn't the absence of fear—it’s the triumph over it."

Keep in mind what we have battled for. However, the youngster remained silent. Rather, a voice—his voice—resonated across the desert. "Do you want peace, Nyla?" He called in a voice that sounded far away, like it was from a dream in the distance. "Are you ready for everything to end? To put a stop to the suffering? If you accept this, I'll grant you peace. My heart skipped a beat. I didn't comprehend. Calm? What did he mean by peace? The ground trembled beneath me before I could react, and the air became heavy with the threat of something horrible, something devastating.

A husky man stepped in, holding a note as he hurried with glinting shoes finally whispering to Chief Ronald Solanke and stepping out again. " In conclusion, If we allow rift and ruffle to interfere, we are walking towards doom. The country is full of orphans struggling to eat and survive yet the bond between them amidst hunger, anguish and dearth still stand! How beautiful this is. Do say after me, we are one and our bond is too strong to allow discord. " "We are one and our bond is too strong to allow discord. " they all chorused and announced, wondering if they agree totally to that being proclaimed.

I rocked myself and sang the lullaby that my mother would sing when I was sad: Little wind that rocks the sea Rock my little one with grief As all her peace within grows strong Let her slumber in the night nice and long. The lullaby soothed me, and my voice was replaced by my mother’s in my thoughts. It almost shocked me, but I let it consume me until I stopped sobbing. I felt warmth overwhelm me, but my necklace still felt cold around my neck. I looked down and saw it shining again. “Riley,” I heard a soft whisper distantly in my mind. I jerked my head up but didn’t see anything.

Because in the dark no one can see, no one can know how hurtful it is. If when he was a child, he wouldn't cry even if he was beaten to death, but now he is so weak that just a little pain can cry. Maybe the older we get, the faster we cry... "Where is its hope?" Little Clause hugged the trembling body, it was like a wind that drifted everywhere without stopping. Where is the place of peace? Where is home called? Maybe those things are too luxurious for him so God can't give him five times seven times. "I'm dead, will anyone cry?"

The moon sank lower, its light thinning like smoke. He raised his gaze to it,his voice barely a breath. “May peace be enough.” The words drifted into the wind, carried toward the sleeping mountains. For a moment, everything stilled again. Then, deep beneath the fortress, something answered. A pulse. Slow. Steady. Alive. Delph didn’t hear it clearly, not yet, but the stones did. And if the fortress could speak, it might have whispered back the truth he didn’t want to face: Peace never lasts forever.

“That’s dangerous.” “For me or for you?” “Both.” For a few moments, the only sound was the soft hum of the air conditioning and the faint thrum of the city below. Dream’s eyes softened, not the cold, controlled kind of soft, but the kind that comes when someone’s guard slips without meaning to. “When I was younger,” he said quietly, “I used to think peace meant winning. Outworking everyone, outlasting them, proving myself to people who never really cared. But it’s not peace. It’s just noise.”

Callie sat up on the stone, her body stiff and aching, but suddenly everything around her shifted. The chaos that had been roaring in her mind… the fire, the screaming, the blood, it all melted away like fog under the morning sun. What replaced it was something else entirely. Peace. But not the kind that brought comfort. This peace was heavy, oppressive. It pressed down on her chest like a weight she couldn't shake. Everything was dark and quiet. Too quiet.

I changed my shoes and washed my hands before answering coolly, "Ate with a friend." He stepped closer, smelled the sliders, and immediately covered his nose. "I told you not to have sliders. You stink," he complained. "Vesper eats them, and it's fine?" I shot back. His disgust grew. "You're not her. Besides, she's an outsider." I didn't argue further, aware of his prejudice toward me. It was fine. Soon enough, I'd be an outsider too. ... Maren flew abroad the next day for business, while I had a lawyer draft the divorce agreement that stated my leave with nothing.