A Desolation Called Peace Novels & Stories

Fabian's POV. The haze drifted away, and the chaos stilled. The air held no screams now, only quiet murmurs and the low growl of those still standing. Among the debris of our world destroyed by war, I stood with the weight and fear of triumph. The stench of smoke and demise enveloped me like a shield. I felt the earth's pulsation beneath me, alive with the energy of life but stained by blood. What could that mean? We had achieved peace, yet it came wrapped in sorrows and shadow.

Despite the sarcasm, I felt her keen attention. "We’re trying to hold it all," I explained, focusing my thoughts. "We’re the dam. But a dam eventually breaks. We need to be the riverbanks. We need to guide the flow, not stop it." I showed her what I meant. Instead of forcefully resolving the conflict between the horror and the idyll, I wove a new concept into the space between them: "The Peace That Follows the Storm." It was a narrative law, a subtle pressure that allowed for terror and tranquility to exist in the same timeline, but ensured that after a period of darkness, there would always be the potential for light, for recovery. It didn't guarantee a happy ending. It just guaranteed that

My brain says that but my heart denies and it's telling me that he truly regrets it. I don't know whether he is acting or truly regrets but I know he is my peace. He was, he is and only he'll be. Whenever I'm with him, I forget the surroundings and handed myself to him. He used to tell me that I'm a heavy sleeper but he didn't know I've never slept peacefully after my parent's death. And then when he came into my life, I changed a little and I slept without any worries after that day, I again lost my peace and only to get peaceful sleep again by him.

The only thing was that Jasmine blonde hair and her unusual silver orbs made her striking to look at, while for Aliyah, her dark blue orbs and black curly hair made looking at her calm one's nerves except she opened her mouth to speak. "You! You're still a puppet I see! There is no empire, no title, no palace and you're still serving and working under the shadows of this psych?! Really!" Aliyah spat bitterly but this only made Jasmine's eyes softened more. Everyone one could see a raging Aliyah but Jasmine was seeing a mentally traumatized person in front of her trying to make herself feel better by picking up on unnecessary topics. " Is anyone alive? Jasmine asked, reaching her healthy han

Neither Martins nor Quin spoke unless when spoken to. Losing her parents was devastating and the last thing she wanted was to die of boredom before she even made it to her aunt. Even Calliope was feeling the lack of energy. The poor animal wasn't used to the uncomfortable silence. It enjoyed hearing people speak and laugh Calliope occasionally joined in that laughter as well. The atmosphere was killing both Calliope and Mariana. Mariana closed her eyes and thought of her parents. It had always been the three of them against the world. She had never once thought that a day would come when they wouldn't be with her again.

The young girl was very hyper, so hyper that it wasn't a surprise that she passed out even before they could get to the independence square. The peace and quiet made Louisa reflect on the day's happenings. Christian Ayettey. Back then he had been really nerdy, but he was cute. Now all his boyish charm had evaporated and had been replaced with manly charisma. Louisa had felt some kind of attraction but she didn't really want to think about it. "Mum?" Isabel murmured. "Yeah?" "Can we get fried rice from Papaye please?" "No honey. There's food at home. But we can get some ice cream though."

The ground shook violently. A crack spread across the enormous door. Then another. No one had touched it. Yet it was opening. From the narrow gap... a warm golden light spilled into the ruined city. It carried no fear. No anger. Only an overwhelming feeling of peace. The boy suddenly fell to his knees. Tears rolled down his face. "He's calling us..." The woman looked confused. "Who?" The boy answered through trembling breaths. "The one who wrote hope before fear existed." The crack widened.

You two haven't gone hungry, so what is there to be dissatisfied about? "It's not like the construction site is unlivable. Why do you insist on wasting money on a house? Plenty of people out there have to sleep on the streets!" I looked down at my dirt-caked fingernails, which looked so ugly next to Abigail's perfect, glossy manicure. For as long as I could remember, I had lived in a corrugated tin shack that was freezing in the winter and scorching in the summer. The roaring noise outside never stopped, which had severely damaged my hearing.

assistant"> Julia — First-Person POV I used to think peace would feel loud. Like fireworks. Like victory. Like some grand moment where the world finally stopped hurting. But real peace? It was quiet. It lived in soft mornings and sleepy smiles. In the tiny sounds our son made while sleeping against my chest. In the warmth of Alan’s hand resting on my waist in the middle of the night, as if even in sleep he needed to make sure I was still there. Alive. Safe.

Named themselves Peace. "I am Peace," they said quietly. "I am calm. I am still. I am no longer fighting. No longer struggling. No longer at war internally. I am Peace. I am singular consciousness without conflict. Without incompatibility. Without internal warfare. I am Peace. And Peace is exactly what I needed. What I wanted. What I choose. I am Peace. Finally. Completely. Absolutely. I am Peace." The third consciousness stood separate. Named themselves Memory.