I Could Only Whisper Your Name Novels & Stories

I paused, letting him marinate in the fear. "I need a name, you absolute piece of garbage," I whispered, the sound devoid of all human warmth. I gripped his index finger, pulling it taut against the ring of steel before tightening the serrated teeth around the base. "One name. Or I'll take one finger for every single second you waste."

I recorded the melody, layering the notes with the specific rhythmic pauses we had invented as children to communicate without words. The light is fading from the stone, and I walk the empty halls alone. But in the dark, I hear your name,The ghost of love, the dying flame.If time has stolen what we knew,I’ll burn the world to get to you. ​I played the recording back. It sounded haunting, a thin, lonely line of sound that carried the weight of everything I was losing. It was the only way to remind her that I was still here, somewhere underneath the code and the protocols. It was a beacon for two ghosts lost in the same graveyard.

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.

"I was wrong… I was so wrong… Juliet, I killed the Moon Goddess's gift…" I turned and started walking toward the parking lot. "Juliet!" he cried out desperately from behind me. "Juliet, do you still love me?"

“ Meara!” The whispers started again, soft but notable. I tensed, my eyes snapping open. I scanned the field, but there was no one in sight. The sound seemed to come from the tree itself, from the rustling of its leaves. I pressed my palms against the rough bark and closed my eyes, focusing on the whispers. " Come... find... me..." The words were faint but distinct. My heart raced. Was I losing my mind, or was there something more to these whispers? I stood up, brushing the dirt off my jeans, and took a few steps back. The whispers grew louder, more insistent.

In Abigail’s heart of hearts, she already knows, she has a special admiration for Debbie since the day they met. Abby hasn’t forgotten the days she felt the special connection, though it may not mean anything to Debbie but mere thoughtless words. She can vividly recall; it was their first meet up, as Debbie whispers to her ears and said, “I prayed for you when you’re sick.” Abigail was puzzle when Debbie did know she was sick; in fact, she was not ill during that time. It remains a mystery to Abby why did Debbie whisper those words. It was a sweet melody that touches her soul.

I swallowed, staring into his eyes. “ Izer. ” I whispered under my breath. “ Leave it. It’s nothing. ” He muttered, shaking his head.

Defeated, I let the sensations of his lips to travel in me as he whispered huskily, "Embed my name deep into your soul because you can't escape me." ,

I heard a helpless, high-pitched whine escape my throat and nearly blacked out from pure pleasure. She turned her head then, and her eyes held mine spellbound as she gradually let my glistening cock slide from her lips. After kissing the tip, she whispered huskily, "I love your dick, honey. It's absolutely amazing."

A sound that shouldn’t exist anymore. I pressed my hands flat against the windowsill, leaning out just enough to let the cold wind slap my face. My brown wavy hair whipped around my cheeks. “Come out if you’re there,” I called softly, trying to sound bold like I always did. “Stop hiding like a coward.” The whistle stopped. Silence swallowed everything except my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. The curtains brushed against my arms, cold and damp from the night air. Then, just as I started to pull back inside, the whistle started again. Fainter. Farther away. But still the same tune. Still Tristan’s.