Can You Feel The Silence Novels & Stories

Almyra's POV, The silence was oppressive, a heavy blanket that suffocated the night. It was as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to stir. The darkness seemed to vibrate with tension, every sound magnified. A cricket's chirp was a cacophony, a rustling leaf, a deafening roar. The wind held its breath, the trees stood still, and the stars twinkled like ice. In this eerie quiet, every sense was heightened.

"But whatever it is, you're allowed to feel it." She looks at me with the expression she has when she is still calibrating — when the fact of being cared for without conditions has not yet fully settled into her understanding of what she can expect. "It doesn't feel like relief," she says. "I thought it would feel like relief. It feels like —" She pauses. "Like the moment after something very loud stops. When you can still hear the shape of the sound in the absence." "That's what relief actually feels like," I say. "When the thing was long enough that you forgot what silence sounded like. It takes time for the silence to become the new normal."

POV ESMERAY Silence is never truly silent. After an explosion of that magnitude, the world doesn't just go quiet; it rings with a high, piercing frequency that feels like a needle driven into the brain. It’s the sound of the soul trying to find its way back into a battered body.

POV DARLENE The Original Silence was not a place of peace; it was a place of sensory starvation. It was the white room between thoughts, the vacuum that existed before the First Howl had ever vibrated through the Empty Lands. As I stepped through the Thirteenth Gate, the weight of the Eleventh Cycle, the fire of the Sun-Walker, and the frost of the North felt like heavy, discarded clothing. "Eryx? Leo?" I called out, but my voice didn't travel. The air here was so thin it couldn't carry sound.

The door slams shut leaving me alone in the room. My eyes widen in alarm as my stomach churns and I throw up the breakfast I had this morning. -- Gia: The ride back home is quiet. People say anger is one of the strongest emotions, but I don’t agree. Silence is. Being silent means you have been robbed of all your emotions, it means numbness. At that moment, you don’t feel anything. Not even anger, pain, sadness. You just feel...empty.

It is not just the absence of animals or the stillness in the air; it is the complete and utter quiet that hangs like a heavy shroud. I call out, “Come out and show me who you are!” My voice echoes in the silence, but there is no response, not even the rustle of leaves or the distant chirping of birds. The oppressive quiet weighs on me, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I cannot shake the feeling that I have stumbled into something far more eerie than I ever could have imagined. I stand there, my senses on high alert, trying to make sense of the unnatural silence that envelops the forest.

They sat in the silence, heavy with raw emotion, the palpable tension thickening with each passing second. It was a silence punctuated only by muted sounds—a sigh, a slight shuffle of clothing, or a steadying exhale. Each noise echoed the myriad feelings that had been shared, suppressed, and exposed in their shared space.

He blushed as he was congratulated. One spectator from afar didn't like any of it. "Fast. Ingenious. Tsk. But he's still deaf. He's useless."

Not even our being. He scowled at his thoughts, having heard them loud and clear, as though he had whispered into his own ear. It was night, and it was dark. The black sky was void of moon, or stars, or clouds. He had never experienced such silence before. A silence void of life, and yet, so full. A silence that choked on its own accommodation. Yes. He knew the feeling all too well. He had witnessed it in others countless times in his life. It was the feel of death, and the silence was wrought with it.

JAKE'S POV The world doesn’t end with sound. It ends with silence—a deep, marrow-sick silence that feels like someone has pressed their palm over the mouth of the universe. I know the moment it happens because every instinct in me stops breathing. Ella’s breath hitches. Her fingers twitch inside the chains of light, and all the hairs on my arms rise like something inside the air is reversing direction. Marcus is saying something behind me—orders, curses, warnings—but his voice folds in on itself, swallowed by a pressure I can’t see, only feel.