Motionless In White A-m-e-r-i-c-a Novels & Stories

White. Nothing but white. Endless. Blinding. Silent. Nobody could see. Nobody could move. Nobody could even feel their own bodies. For one terrifying moment, Everything disappeared. Then, A heartbeat. Thump. Another. Thump. Then memories exploded. Not one. Not ten. Thousands. Millions. Everywhere. All at once. Amara gasped. Because she wasn’t seeing her memories anymore. She was seeing everyone else’s. Kai’s. Ethan’s.

Artemis White's POV - TW - Drugs, kidnapping, torture, blood, death. Continue at your own risk. It was dark again. Not the gentle dark of sleep or dreams. This was vast. Endless. Empty. This was a void, and I was floating in it. No pain, no worries, no thoughts. Just silence.

The limousine glided through the Manhattan night, its black shell reflecting the city's electric pulse. Inside, Amara sat rigid, her spine pressed against the cool leather, her fingers knotted in her lap. She stared at her reflection in the tinted window, just a ghost of light and shadow, but she saw everything.

"This was the gateway to the Glass Sea. It was beautiful. Now it’s... it’s being retracted." The Eraser’s Mark In the center of the village square, a massive, jagged line of Absolute White was moving across the ground. It wasn't snow. It was a literal void. Anything it touched, a cart, a bench, a stray cat, simply ceased to be. No sound. No explosion. Just a silent un-making. "Mina," Kaelen said, his voice low and dangerous. "Can the Ledger stop that?" Mina stepped toward the white line. Her iron-and-gold ring flared with a blinding light. She held out her hand, and for a second, the white void slowed down.

Azrael was in his cave, sharpening his weapons that he had stored. He had many things on his mind when he saw a glowing dull white light come into his cave. Causing him to turn and saw that it was the spirit of an elder Native American woman. The one that he knew was teaching Ava Miller the way of Spirit Walking. “What can I help you with?” The elder woman glared at the figure before her, who she knew to be a pile of walking bones. “For starters, I want you to follow Ava.”

They hoisted Joseph onto the stretcher, fumbling in their haste. As they wheeled him out, Joseph's eyes, clouded and weak, locked onto mine. He reached out to me, gasping. "Aria, I'm sorry..." I stood silent, watching the ambulance doors slam shut, its siren fading into the distance.

"Folgerous incantum, velaris mactum, elysium profundum, adveho umbram. Invictus potentia, animus obscurum, tenebris adficio, veneficus summus. Animaque regia, in tenebris ambulare, umbrae dominus." The chant continued, the words flowing together in a mesmerizing rhythm. The man's hands moved gracefully in the air, tracing intricate patterns that seemed to correspond with the syllables he uttered. The room itself seemed to quiver in response, and Elvie couldn't help but feel a growing sense of unease.

Echoes of agreement, fueled by a collective rage, rose in a chorus. They grabbed their phones, pointing them at me, their flashes knitting a tight net of light around me. It did not take long for the tide of public opinion to surge. Insults flooded in. [She's pure evil, she's going to burn in the inferno!] [How can she dare wear white, thinking it makes her innocent? You can't hide the filth that clings to you!] [She killed her own son! What a monster, a worthless woman.] I was torn apart on social media, slapped with every vile label imaginable.

I'll go first and take the risk - they need to see I’m willing to die for this community, for them, for justice. Suddenly, I felt something unusual—something had changed. It was as if my reality had shifted, as if the world around me had frozen in place. The wind stopped blowing, the clouds no longer moved, suspended in the sky like painted illusions. I felt as though I were sinking into the ground, losing all sense of gravity, as if the earth itself was swallowing me. It was like drifting into a dream—surreal, weightless, and strangely silent. What is happening?

a voice whispered. It was a small, trembling sound—the kind of sound a rabbit makes when it's cornered by a pack of wolves. I straightened up, my skin prickling. I didn't think; I just moved. I didn't care that I didn't have a stitch of clothes on. I didn't care that my knuckle tattoos were still red from the cold. I followed the sound toward the back, my bare feet silent on the rubber matting. Miller and two of the freshmen were crowded around a corner. They were laughing, Miller’s large hand braced against a locker, pinning something—someone—into the shadows.