Blissful Whisper Novels & Stories

One girl and one boy, smiles on their faces as they both let the wind sway their swings. An image of a girl with long, red, wavy hair flashed before my eyes and smiled at me, very tender and sweet like it would end my immortality. Then she collapsed into the floor. The vision went black. I couldn't see anything... it was dark... yet there were whispers. "It's her..." "Puoi permetterti di perderla?" "Take her..." "Sarà la tua morte..." I opened my eyes and sat down. My hands were shaking and I was having a hard time catching my breath due to shock. Fucking dream! No. It was a nightmare!

"Your existence is destructive, you'll bring disasters in the life of your loved ones" I cried my heart out, the fear absorbed me, but the dreadful voice seemed to neglect my suffering and continued "you traitor! Murderer! Wait for your karma to destroy you as you destroyed them," The voice kept on echoing. I covered my ears in horror. I screamed but I couldn't find a single soul that could offer me a helping hand. I could listen to the voice rising wild and nigher the trees and its leaves the drifting air, the ground that I was fallen on with misery the rocks that stood still in its might all that existing around me whirled in a motion and whispered "It's time for your retribution, it's ti

"On the mountaintop." "What are you doing on the mountaintop?" "Watching the stars." "Wait for me, I'll come right now…" Suddenly, there was a loud noise on the other end of the line. It sounded like a woman was speaking. Samuel snapped something in a low voice. The woman seemed persistent, and Samuel didn't say anything for a long while. Then, Isabella heard what seemed to be the sound of a kiss. Isabella sneered. "Samuel, are you still coming?"

She read the poem on the topmost page: Blurry eyes, in a haze, Cry silently near the window, Go without speaking for days, Written words are all that remain. What did I do wrong? You call me a disgrace. Sleep with pretty women, perfect bodies Yet you dare show me that face? I sit by my lonesome, Never a hair out of place, Temptation walks by, You get in the way. Dismay, disarray, I seek comfort, The warmth of a stranger's arms,

she responds, desire reducing her words to a whisper We move together in perfect harmony. She twists and moans as I show her how magnificent she is. I whisper sweet things in her ears. She does the same to me. I kiss her. She kiss me back. After hours of rough, slow, fast, screaming, we reach our peak together

~CAMILLE~ My breath hitched as I stared at the shape in front of me, eyes wide and jaw dropped. The woman smiled faintly. “Moonbound… do not be afraid.” Her voice was like wind chimes in a dream—soft, melodic, and carrying both grief and reverence. My knees nearly gave way. “You… who are you?” I stuttered out, sweat covering my palms and forehead. The being tilted her head. “Once, I healed the wounded and calmed the dying. I am Vestra, Whisper of the Mists.”

The warmth of his embrace pulled me into a swirl of joy, and for a moment, the world around us faded away. “Brodie, I missed you so much,” I whispered, leaning in closer to his ear, our breaths mingling in the warm air. “I know it’s not been that long, but the thought that it could be forever felt unbearable.” My voice trembled slightly as I spoke, the weight of my emotions pouring out.

And most of all, we learn that real love, whether romantic, platonic, or self-given, asks us to show up honestly, love bravely, and choose ourselves without apology. Let this be a reminder: Even broken hearts can whisper. And even whispered hearts can love again. Summary: In a world where love is often loud and fleeting, The Whispers of Heart tells the quiet, deeply personal stories of four souls daring to love bravely. Davina, a thoughtful introvert, rediscovers passion with a man who sees beyond her silence. Emmy, vibrant yet guarded, opens herself to joy and heartbreak but learns to choose herself. Sofia, wounded by betrayal, finds healing in an intense connection that vanishes with the m

came a whisper in the night, one spoken with hope. This was a whisper with a mind of its own. A creature like a voice, unable to be seen, or felt, but one able to see, feel, and smell. It was the whisper of a being called Rose Steele, and she was currently one of the captives of the house of silence, the very body of the house itself. This was what time had done to Rose and her sisters. This was what a curse had done to them against their will. But a whisper had been sent. A feeling of hope to be restored.

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.