All The Way By The Whispers Novels & Stories

Zerina's point of view But because of Shea, I pushed through, trying to ignore the whispers. The only light came at the far end of the alley, casting long, eerie shadows. My ears rang with more whispers. "Shea?" My voice cracked, too small for the empty night. "Shea, are you out here?" No reply. I shivered as the whispers drew closer . "Shea!!" I yelled louder this time. My words bounced against the walls and came back to me hollow.

Slow whispers enter into his ear, whispers he can't understand or make out any words of. ∷𝙹|| ↸o リoℸ ̣ ꖎooꖌ ⎓or∴ᔑrd∷𝙹|| ↸o リoℸ ̣ ꖎooꖌ ⎓or∴ᔑrd∷𝙹|| ↸o リoℸ ̣ ꖎooꖌ ⎓or∴ᔑrd∷𝙹|| ↸o リoℸ ̣ ꖎooꖌ ⎓or∴ᔑrd∷𝙹|| ↸o リoℸ ̣ ꖎooꖌ ⎓or∴ᔑrd∷𝙹|| ↸o リoℸ ̣ ꖎooꖌ ⎓or∴ᔑrd∷𝙹|| ↸o リoℸ ̣ ꖎooꖌ ⎓ or∴ᔑrd The whispers get louder as he gets deeper into the cave, confusing his mind even more.

Bleeding. Breathing. Barely. The footsteps were gone. Whoever had done it had left. Or watched. Or both. It didn’t matter. We had names to carve into tombstones now. We had truths to face. We were no longer guessing. No longer feeding lies to catch a whisper of betrayal. We were in it. Drowning in it. And there was no going back. I turned my head to him, my blood mixing with his on the cracked pavement. His lips parted again. A whisper. I leaned close, fighting every scream in my body. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. Then his eyes closed.

🌑 And from somewhere deep inside— A familiar voice whispered— “You’re finally back…” 🖤 To Be Continued…

Then, a whisper. It was faint at first, barely distinguishable from the wind. But as we pressed on, it grew louder—disjointed murmurs echoing all around us. The whispers wove together in an eerie symphony of voices, some pleading, others laughing in a way that sent a chill down my spine. Freya stopped in her tracks. “Tell me someone else hears that.” Bram nodded grimly. “We all do.” Sienna gritted her teeth. “It’s the Phantoms. Keep walking. Do not—”

Give me a sec. "Ada," I said, speaking aloud and looking down at her. She looked surprised at my use of her name. "What was the kind of poison you think I've been poisoned with? What was the name again?" "I don't think it, I know," she replied with a small roll of her eyes. "It's called Whisperbloom." I hurried and relayed the information to Ethan, who agreed to look into it immediately. "And how do you know that's what I have?" I asked, still a little foggy on the details.

“Something’s wrong. This isn’t natural.” Before Sasha could respond, a faint whisper drifted through the air. It was soft, like a breeze, but it carried words she couldn’t understand. She froze, her heart pounding. “Did you hear that?” Ethan’s sharp gaze swept the room. “Stay close.” The whisper came again, louder this time, echoing like a thousand voices speaking in unison. The sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Sasha clutched Ethan’s arm as the air around them grew colder, the temperature plummeting so fast that her breath became visible.

Without her realizing it, her long-buried grievances seemed to be easing away. Her eyes turned watery. The lyrics were a bunch of simple and straightforward words, yet she found herself completely absorbed in them. "Whisper of the Silence." Danise smiled. "Lovely song, isn't it?" "Whisper... of the Silence?" A glimmer appeared in her lifeless gaze. "Such a beautiful name. Is this your latest work?" "How I wish. It's Kyle." Staring into her eyes, he continued, "He composed it with hopes that it could reach the ears of somebody he misses."

Daisy leaned in and whispered, "Target acquired. The hot guard with the tattoo is stationed by the west wing entrance. We’ll pass by casually. You flirt. We watch. Alex combusts." I rolled my eyes, but my stomach fluttered with anticipation and something else—confidence, bold and intoxicating. As I stepped out of the room, both girls trailing behind me like my very own devilish entourage, I felt the air shift around me. The corridor was cooler than expected, the chill brushing along my shimmering thighs and slipping beneath the hem of my scandalously short skirt. But instead of shrinking from it, I embraced the way it made me hyperaware of every inch of exposed skin.

My voice was a strained whisper, a desperate attempt to reassure them that everything was alright. The club, a brightly lit oasis in the urban jungle, loomed ahead, a promise of temporary escape from the complexities of my life. I turned away from the phone, a lingering warmth from my parents' voices still radiating through me. A wave of relief washed over me, a fleeting sense of normalcy in the midst of the chaos. I stepped out of the SUV, the air thick with the scent of exhaust fumes and the promise of a night out. “I love you, Mom!” My voice was a strained whisper, a desperate attempt to mask the tension building within me. I turned towards the club.