John Silence Stories Novels & Stories

She didn’t know then that some silences weren’t empty. They were waiting. Waiting for the moment they could break everything open.

Dad's days in prison were terrible. A respectable educated man like him became a joke and a target in that place. "Well, well. Isn't this the cultured man who locked his own daughter to death?" "What happened? Finished the promotion dinner and came here for the experience?" Humiliation and beatings became part of daily life. At first, he fought back. Then he became numb. In the end, he fell completely silent. He stopped speaking. His eyes were hollow, like a walking corpse. Mom visited him once in prison.

" Boom— The thunder hit like it was aimed at me. Like something inside me just ripped apart. I wanted to vanish. To curl up somewhere no one could see me. But where? It was all rain. All thunder. All his voice, laughing. Then William called. "Joelle?" His voice was so calm, it cut through everything—the thunder, the rain, even the echo of Nathan's voice. "Are you crying?" I wanted to say no. Really tried. But nothing came out. And like my silence gave him the answer, the tears just broke loose. "Stay where you are," he said, steady as ever. "I'm coming to get you." *** Nathan was single again. A bunch of spoiled rich kids threw a "singles party" at the club, drowning in shots and laughs.

"In my stories this is where the hero does something to show his love is real." Silas did not look scared. He looked upset. He fixed his jacket, which was black. It looked nice with the red lights in the room. "I have worked hard to build this company and make it strong," he said. "If they think I will give up my life for a story they do not know me."

Bleeding. SILENCE

Zephyr must have loved him a lot. “Can I ask…” I started hesitantly. “How did Zephyr…?” The question died on my lips as Silas stopped walking. The whole world seemed to go still. When he finally looked at me, his expression was carefully neutral, but I could see the old pain underneath. “He fell asleep one afternoon,” Silas said softly. “And never woke up.” The simplicity of it hit harder than any dramatic story could have. Just—fell asleep and never woke up.

disappearing. No patterns for him to track. No footprints for him to follow. No predictable, angry outbursts for him to plan for. I was going to vanish so completely that even the people on my side would start to wonder if I ever existed at all. Silas was sitting there, waiting for a hurricane to hit him. Instead, he was going to get nothing but silence. And when men like Silas are met with silence for too long, they get nervous. They get itchy. And then, they start making mistakes.

The lively chatter of daytime creatures gave way to the mystical sounds of the night, and the world seemed to slow down, a perfect backdrop to the increasingly personal conversation between Silas and Raven. Silas's voice softened as he started to share stories from his childhood. His eyes, once focused on the path ahead, now looked inward, reflecting on memories both precious and painful. "You know, Raven, these woods were my playground when I was a child," Silas began, his voice filled with nostalgia. "I would wander here for hours, pretending to be a mighty warrior or a wise shaman." Raven's eyes sparkled with interest, her heart touched by the tenderness in his voice. "Did you ever feel l