All Quiet On The Western Front Novels & Stories

"Hey, since Miss Palmer is fine, can you take me to the movies now? Oh, I really want to try out that new French place in the city center, people say it's amazing!" I stood there in the wind, my nose and fingertips red from the cold. As the engine blared to life, Scott said, "Since you're fine, then go home on your own, yeah? We've got plans." Roanna smiled and waved her hand at me. "We'll head off then, Miss Palmer! Take care of your health and live a long life, alright?"

I stayed where I was, staring out at the fog-draped hills, my breath ghosting in the cold air. It was strange — how war had become routine. You’d think it would feel monstrous every time. That the weight of leading men to die would get heavier. But it doesn’t. It just gets quieter. And that silence — it’s worse. I crouched, pressing a hand to the ground. The earth was damp, trembling faintly beneath my palm. Wolves in the distance howled in sync, a low rumble that rippled through the camp like a heartbeat. They were ready.

The clinic always felt too quiet in the mornings, as if silence seeped down from the ceiling tiles and settled over everything. Lola Smith could hear the hum of the lights, the slow whir of the automatic doors, even the soft scrape of her own shoes across the polished floor. She didn’t mind the quiet, not really. But on certain days, when her thoughts were too loud, she wished for more noise—anything to drown out the feeling that her life was idling in neutral.

I wanted to take it with me, to bury these ridiculous seven years for good. The office was pitch-dark, except for the light still on in the CEO's office. Wanting to say a final goodbye to Chelsea, I walked up to the door and reached for the handle. That was when I heard her voice, trembling with tears and something indistinct underneath. "Donald, don't. We can't do this…" My hand froze in midair.

Too small to tell someone. A waterglass that didn't stand in the morning where she left it in the evening. Wet footprints in the hall, although no one had been outside. And last night — a children's song. Quiet. Under her bed. She hadn't looked. Not because she was afraid. Because she knew there was nothing there. And that just made it worse. That morning it knocked on her door. Without waiting for the answer, Lena Weber joined. She seemed pale than usual. “You heard it, didn’t you?”

"Richard’s front lines are moving faster than our scouts predicted. The lower trenches have fallen." ​I didn't answer immediately. My eyes tracked the movement across the chasm. The Western army moved with terrifying precision. Their bronze armor caught the weak northern sunlight, reflecting a cold glare that illuminated the thousands of spears marching in perfect synchronization. They didn't look like men; they looked like a golden serpent slithering forward to constrict the throat of the North.

(Adrian's POV) I came back to the world in pieces. First the cold brutal, absolute, the kind that felt less like weather and more like something actively trying to get inside me through the wound in my side. Then sound, muffled and distant, voices layered on top of each other, someone shouting coordinates, someone else crying somewhere close by. Then, finally, Sienna's voice, right at my ear, steady even though I could hear exactly what it was costing her to keep it that way.

I released it and slept again. The western force had arrived. The light had returned far enough for reliable short work. The courts remained silent. And the quiet continued to feel like time that was still being measured on the other side of the ridges.

"I'm sorry, but Frank ..." "Lara, would you please leave us alone?" A dangerously calm and deep voice came from behind the girl. Lara didn't have to be told twice. Alissa saw this as her opportunity and stepped into the dim hallway, she couldn't see Frank exactly, she just saw that he was quite tall. But she didn't care at the moment, she was angry because the guy was watching other women even though he was married! No wonder his wife never wanted to come here. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Why are you watching me?"

He put it to the highest volume so that he won’t hear any noise aside from his music. Meanwhile, a loud noise can be heard in a nearby house. The breaking sound of the glass that comes off the table rang out in the whole house. There, a guy came out of the house while hanging his empty bag on his shoulder. He has this blank and emotionless face while walking out of the house. He looked at his own Harry Winston wrist watch that was a gift to him by his father.