Bill Cipher Lullaby Novels & Stories

He says wickedly, and it suddenly makes sense. Son of a bitch! With a loud sigh, I look away from the woman to focus on the beautiful toddlers waving at her, one of them, the youngest, is being carried by Maisie who is finally smiling, but not at me! “Miss Natalia!” the eldest one squeaks and runs to me, a happy look on his face, he must be around five, blond hair and blue eyes, and a one billion dollars smile. “looks like Dominic had missed his favorite nurse!” Maisie says with a smile, saving me from the awkwardness of not recognizing the little boy, ruffling his hair a little bit, I say in a childish voice.

A woman’s voice could be heard humming a lullaby that I recognized instantly—it sounded like Mockingbird. Aunt Delilah. Bella, you must leave right away! “Sweetheart, don’t turn around.” My mother pushed me aside. “Keep in mind that the man with the butterfly tattoo is the

Tears prick The corners of my eyes again. “Trust me, Leni, that baby girl will know exactly what she means to us. Always.” His tone is gentle and soothing. “Get some sleep. We’ll be waiting for you.” “Thank you, Babe.” “You’re welcome, Sugar.” Milo gets up and closes the curtains to darken the room, then quietly closes the door behind him. I roll on my back and listen to him and his parents shush Codi. He sounds like he’s pacing the floor and trying to sing her a lullaby. He is terrible at it, forgetting words and cursing, resulting in his mom quietly scolding him. He switches to humming instead. While I try to match metal songs I know to lullaby tunes, Milo doesn’t know how yet. His deep hu

Law. I checked my watch again, eight on the dot. Billie hadn’t left her room since we got back from the funeral home. I pulled up the live feed on my phone: her curled on the bed in Leon's oversized hoodie, knees drawn up, scrolling endlessly. On Super model photos, Influencer reels. Searches for “blonde hair blue eyes.” She could chase whatever ghost she wanted tonight; the news she was about to receive would burn most of that noise away anyway.

“Hello, my little bundle of joy! I know you fuss when I don’t sing you your favorite lullaby. Here it is then:” “Bella stella dimmi tu Cosa vedi da lassù Bella stella dimmi tu Cosa vedi da lassù Da quassù io vedo te Da quassù io vedo te E racconto cose belle Imparate tra le stelle. Mama loves you, my little one. “ The tape stopped, and the only thing that remains is the rewind of the tape and then an eerie silence in the room.

I lifted my face to look at him, and I could see that he had his eyes on me as he approached, his face brightening up with every step he took. I was afraid that his brother was going to get suspicious, but I figured that they were more interested in his arrival. “Hello, Mr. Prescott. Happy birthday and anniversary to you. Here, I brought you a gift.” Carl pulled out a gorgeous glass tube with a wax seal, which he handed over to the celebrant. “This is Gurkha Royal Cigar. The finest in the entire world.” Carl smugged. “Aha! You know exactly what I like; I do not doubt that you would take care of my daughter.” Mr. Prescott looked at the gift with a cheerful smile.

Chase grumbled, then clapped his hand. Tommy, her vibrant and exuberant child, had been eagerly waiting in the corner with his nanny. Bursting with excitement, he had managed to keep his secret under wraps, his eyes dancing with anticipation. Waiting for the signal from Chase. Tommy tiptoed into the living room, clutching a hand-drawn card and a small cake adorned with flickering candles. With a heart full of joy, he mustered all his energy and let out a joyous "Happy Birthday, Mommy!" in a voice that echoed through the entire house. Everyone turned around, surprised by the little boy who kept on bouncing.

Every breath is colder. He stumbled, catching himself against a fallen tree. His hand left a smear of blood on the bark. The scent made the creatures hiss. “Come on,” he whispered to himself. “Stay awake.” A sound—soft, melodic—cut through the whispers. A song. Lila’s voice. He froze, heart hammering, the blade in his hand trembling. It came from somewhere ahead, weaving through the fog like a thread of silver. It was the same lullaby she used to hum when they camped after long hunts. But the words were wrong now, twisted. The melody dripped with sorrow.

Shaky. Calla. “This is for the child I haven’t met. But I think she’s already listening. I hope someday she’ll hum it back.” Carrie covered her mouth with her hand. Eliza leaned her head against my shoulder. River? River just closed their eyes. Calla’s Daughter – POV She listened to it again that night. Alone. Headphones on. Lights off. The lullaby was a thread she didn’t know she needed. And for the first time, her body felt like it remembered something her mind didn’t.

Mary Jane muttered. “Don’t let her get to you,” Betty said, nudging her. “She’s just bitter because her customer service skills are as flat as the cappuccinos she makes.” Mary Jane couldn’t help but laugh, though her nerves still buzzed beneath the surface. By mid-morning, the café had settled into a quieter lull. Mary Jane wiped down the counter, her movements automatic as snippets of Cassandra’s gossip floated from the kitchen. “I mean, honestly, what’s the big deal? He’s just another billionaire customer. She acts like she’s someone special...”