My Quiet Book Novels & Stories

"Sexy? Now that's an interesting perspective. Care to elaborate?" I shift in my seat, suddenly aware of the heat building low in my belly. "It's not just because I love books—though that's obviously a big part of it. There's something about how quiet and dignified they are. The hushed atmosphere, the hidden corners..." I trail off, embarrassed by where my thoughts are going. But Armani leans forward, his eyes darkening. "Hidden corners where...?" "Where you have to be very, very quiet," I whisper, holding his gaze. "Where the slightest sound could give you away."

"A shell of her former self, eh? That's spot on, Grandpa. Let's just focus on ourselves from now on. They're nothing to us." He nodded in agreement. "I won't get worked up because of her anymore. We'll live well together." Jolene dropped by not long after. She came bearing gifts for Bruce, but didn't plead for Leon. "Bruce, I'll get to the end of this. I'm just glad you're alright." Bruce didn't give her a warm response. She felt guilty and left on her own. However, she felt an odd sense of emptiness growing inside her as she walked away, leaving her increasingly uneasy. She lit a cigarette—something she hadn't touched in a long time.

Then she began. She read a passage from the first chapter—about the quiet kind of pain that teaches you how to disappear: “There are wounds so silent they make noise only you can hear. You smile in rooms that feel too loud, nod through conversations where your name feels foreign. You start to shrink without realizing it, folding yourself into corners like paper left out in the rain. And one day, you look in the mirror and wonder when you became so quiet, so good at not being seen.” Then a passage from the middle—about learning how to stay:

Her childish voice echoed in his mind even now, but the person who had said those words was gone. Those soothing words now felt like sharp daggers, cutting into his heart. Terrified and trembling to his core, he realized he was truly alone. When Henley climbed onto the windowsill, he felt a strange sense of peace. He wanted to see Joanna again, to feel her stroke his hair and softly tell him she was still there. The rain poured all night. When Henley woke up the next day, he thought he had already died. However, when warm sunlight touched his body, he realized he was still alive.

Yes, I do. And so I lastly want to give out my thanks for all your support and then ask for your continuous gifts and gems. Although my review section has been a little lonely lately (⁠ ⁠⚈̥̥̥̥̥́⁠⌢⁠⚈̥̥̥̥̥̀⁠) Let's raise the algorithm of "HIS SILENT VOICE" together and stay tuned because we are about to dive into the second half of our story. And with that, Author Autumn signs out. Thank you, love you all(⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥

K A I D A The library is quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes my own breathing feel too loud, the rustle of pages unnatural. The scent of old parchment and ink fills my nose as I sit cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by stacks of books I barely understand.

he weakly uttered as he sniffled softly. Kelvin pulled the birthday boy into a hug. "You're welcome. You're happy, right?" Kinsley nodded vigorously in response. "Good." The older boy chuckled. From a distance, by one of the windows of the school building, someone is gritting his teeth. "Tsk. He's too happy and crying over an effing phone,” he muttered. * * * "The great deaf is here!" One young werewolf announced as Kinsley entered a large room for the monthly meeting of the aspiring hunters, trackers, and warriors, even healers of the pack. The pack members in this group are ages twelve to seventeen, who will soon be given their rank.

Something was wrong, Apple never let her phone ring for that long, let alone not answer it. I rapidly got up and wore my old torn sneakers then pulled my puffer jacket which was hung on the chair and walked out. I headed for the front door and pulled it open but I was surprised by who I saw at the other side. “I brought your text book” he began. It was Sorrow, Sorrow Haze. He was right before me with my History textbook along with my sketchbook on his hands. I rapidly snatched them both from his hands

A little whisper of an echo darting through the darkness. Both of us tensed, our wolves alert and ears scanning for any trace of sound. Staying quiet was one of the lines in the poem, but we had no other way to communicate. Quiet did not mean silent, and I wondered if we might get away with lowering our voices. A musty smell wafted through the shelves; it smelled of dust, bones, and dry leather. It wasn’t the most disgusting thing I had smelled, but was bad enough to make Helena and I wrinkle our noses. I pointed towards the unending rows of bookshelves.

Chapter 162 – Laura’s POV The house was quiet again, but it was a different kind of quiet. Not the calm silence I had tried to cling to before, not the reassuring hush of a home where Enzo slept peacefully. No, this quiet was deliberate. It felt alive, like it was watching me, waiting for me to take a move. Every shadow seemed just a little too deep, every creak a little too purposeful.