A Whisper That Went Unheard Novels & Stories

Or love, buried beneath years of silence. And unexpectedly, as she scrolled back through the file, Serena felt something stir in her chest. A quiet ache. Whitney had been handed every reason to give up on the world. But she hadn’t. ** By nightfall, Whitney dragged herself back to her tiny, cramped apartment—the one-bedroom rental with peeling wallpaper, flickering lights, and a persistent draft that sneaked in under the door.

He inched closer to the wall, racing pulse. He heard nothing this time. No giggles, sexy. No whispers, dirty. Just murmurs, soft. Muffled sounds. Closing a door. Then silence. Made it worse. Because his imagination caught up with him. He had to do something. Anything. Before he lost himself entirely. — The day went by in a haze. Ethan hardly ate. Couldn't concentrate. Each time he passed her room, he longed to knock, to demand explanations, to demand. her. Not for what she provided the men—but for the truth she denied him.

I whispered, but my voice went unheard. The tears spilled over, and I tried to pull away from Tristan again, my hands trembling. “If you ever think of me as your friend, you will let me go,” I murmured, as tears rolled down from my cheeks. Tristen was caught up with my words. He seemed angry and helpless, just by my words. Rolex moved closer to Tristan, leaning in to whisper something that I couldn’t hear. Whatever he said made Tristan’s jaw tighten, and after a long pause, he stepped back.

"There are voices of people that linger when their lives are unjustly taken from this earth," Crystal said. "Voices of blood, and people who can't get justice for themselves. These voices belong to the souls of the dead, and the innocent. They can haunt you, torment you, and even try to kill you if they are strong enough. They are like air. They can't be seen. They can't be touched. They can be felt, but mostly through one's hearing. They glide in the air. The strong wind can stop them, and so can fire. Nature doesn't necessarily stop them, but anything too loud for you to hear them can temporarily stop them. And that is why they are called whispers.

It was beautiful, terrifying, and utterly alien. "The Whispering Gate," Misha breathed, her voice filled with awe and trepidation. She still held my hand, her grip now a little shaky. Her other hand rested protectively on her stomach. The air thrummed with a low, insidious murmur. A chorus of voices, barely audible, yet everywhere. Promises of forgotten power. Echoes of lost loved ones. Whispers of regrets, of roads not taken. It was a symphony of despair, intricately woven with tantalizing temptations.

He didn't even have the mindspace to work. I had chosen to leave and had taken great care to wipe all traces of me in the system. As a result, William couldn't find out where I had gone. … Days passed William by like they always did. It was dull, monotonous, and filled with work. He came home groggy and dazed, but then a familiar scent hit him. His heart skipped a beat, and he immediately charged into the dining room. He was so desperate that he didn't even change into his indoor shoes.

Then she whispered, "No one understands.”

Whispers, speaking incoherently. She clamped her hands over her ears, wanting it to stop. But the whispers only grew louder, pounding inside her head, threatening to make her go insane. "Nooo," she cried out, clutching her head tightly. "Make it stop... pleaseeeeee..." The whispers intensified, bearing down on her like a heavy burden. The pain expanded, taking over her body and making her writhe in agony. Suddenly it all stopped. The whispers, the pain, the burning sensation. They were totally gone.

“Yes.” But her hands didn’t move. Instead, she leaned her head on his shoulder, letting silence settle between them. After a long while, she whispered, “Why me?” He didn’t have an answer. But deep down, he knew: Because you survived. And they couldn’t let that go. --- The snow began to fall again. But this time, it felt different. Not a cage. A cover. And beneath it, two souls waited. For morning. For justice. For the truth to finally rise.

The semi-closed door opened once again, and Spencer strode in. His voice was not loud, but it had such a sense of authority it made an unignorable impact. The room suddenly fell deathly quiet.