Romans & histoires All Quiet On The Western Front Book English

The problem I used to face here in the dungeon was the silence. Everything felt so quiet and too peaceful. It almost felt like a graveyard or being alone in the whole world. I just couldn't go on with it at first but I got used to it after some time. I went back to my reading, determined to finish the book Celia had snuck in last night. It was an interesting tale, but a very inspiring one about bravery and determination and courage. Just as I flipped onto the next page, I heard footfalls approaching.

Will, asked looking from her to the book then back to her. "Its in English guys, what does it look like to you?" I wrote down the words for her on a piece of paper I then handed it to her, she looked at it and gave us a confused look. I don't mean to brag but im awesome at guessing who is 'true', boo yah motherf*ckers! "Mace your going to have to read this book and tell us, looks like your the only one who can read it." said Chloe while shrugging. Macey nodded and started to read the book.

A face that was sharp and pleasant in equal measure, the kind you wouldn't look twice at on the street but would remember afterward without being able to explain why, in conclusion he looked unconventionally handsome. He pulled a book from the shelf and turned it over to read the back. "Do you have anything by Remarque?" he asked without looking up. "All Quiet on the Western Front specifically." "We do." She moved toward the classics section. "This way." He followed at a comfortable distance. She found the edition, pulled it from the shelf, handed it across. He took it and studied the cover. "Good." "Looking for anything else or just the one?" He considered. "Surprise me. Something that does

I was a grown man, but my legs still gave out slightly when the nurse came for me out of reflex. The fear I felt nearly sent me sprawling to the ground. I was afraid it would be bad news. Why did the nurse say my grandfather wanted to talk to me instead of telling me his condition first? I didn't dare ask. I was genuinely terrified. Jolene finally caught on as well. She stayed behind me, no matter how much Leon shouted at her to leave me to my own devices. It almost looked like she had finally remembered my grandfather's kindness.

“Kael…” “You don’t have to answer,” he said quietly. “I just needed you to know.” I reached out, my hand brushing his cheek. “Thank you.” The fire crackled, casting golden shadows across the clearing. The night stretched on. And we marched toward the war that would define our world. --- END OF CHAPTER 35

Four mornings inched along since the engagement party. Quiet had fallen like dust on unread books. His voice followed me everywhere-what was his sorrow, now was my stain, to be carried by no cleaning hand. Father jumped when a carriage drew up before the door. Mother smiled less; her lips shivered as if to keep cold air out. Silence thickened. It wasn't peaceful silence but watching, held-halfway up in one's chest.

I whispered. No one answered. Just the distant echoes of war. And somewhere, closer now, the soft pad of paws on leaves. I pressed my face into the damp earth and tried not to make a sound.

LYRA War has a sound. It's not the noises. Not swords hitting shields or people screaming as they die. The real sound of war is quieter. It's in the thunder of marching armies. In the crackling of fires burning villages before dawn. In the silence when everyone in the room already knows the news is bad. That's the sound around me now. It's heavy. Endless. Alive. I stand on the walls with cold wind blowing through my silver cloak. The mist below the cliffs looks like an ocean waiting to drown the world.

Reasa tensed beside her, but remained silent. Incanting quietly, there appeared a faint breeze on the air; the foreign words in the book shimmered for a brief moment and then cleared just as quickly. The script remained ornate, but the language was now clearly legible. All in the room were silent, until Rhianna began to speak once more...

The rest of my warriors , charging toward us through the dark. The ground trembles under their coming. The hum swells until the soil itself shimmers. A faint silver light splits the earth — a trail blooming under our steps. moonlight. and we run faster — beyond what our bodies should allow. The night breaks open behind us. Distance collapses beneath our feet. And then the West stands before us. I see the signs — the fight’s just ended. The air tastes of iron and ash; the scent of blood, fur, and fire twines thick on the dawn breeze.