No One Else Can Speak The Words On Your Lips Novels & Stories

"You're always trying to save a penny here and there, but has it made you rich? Your penny-pinching almost hurt someone! How could you do this? Why didn't you just hurt yourself instead of my son? "If my son is harmed, you shouldn't even bother living!"

'' I see a tear falls down her chin. My mouth couldn't utter words. It's like I'm speechless, it's like someone overtook the will for me to speak. All I can do is just look at her, listening to her voice but I was unable to reach out for her. It's like she's not even here.

I find myself clenching my fists on my side, and without me knowing, I just hear the words escape my mouth, “No, you can’t do this me!”

His voice dropped even lower. "Remember this. The next man might be a lot worse than me. So maybe start thinking harder about the people you trust." I tried to answer. I couldn’t. Why can’t I talk? Something filled my mouth, slick and unfamiliar, cutting off even my ability to breathe properly. My lips moved, but no sound came out. My throat refused to obey me. And then everything stopped. Warm breath brushed across my damp lips. "You’re adorable..." Those were the last words I heard before the darkness swallowed me whole.

"Promise. I promise. I promise forever. I promise always. I promise never. I promise everything. I promise to the end of time. I promise beyond time." His mouth stays on my wrist. His lips move. His tongue traces my skin. Soft. Slow. Deliberate. Electric. Possessive. Hungry. Worshipful. Desperate. "Ethan—" "Shh. Don't talk. Don't ruin this. Don't break the spell. Don't stop this moment. Don't ruin it. Don't take it away." "Someone could walk in. Anyone could see. Noah could wake up. Vanessa could come down. The whole world could see. The whole world could know. The whole world could judge."

Apollo “Lick it.” The words echoed through the hall. Everyone froze. No one dared to speak or move, afraid I might turn my attention to them instead. The boy on his knees looked up at me, stunned. His lips trembled, his eyes wide in disbelief, like he couldn’t comprehend what he’d just heard from my mouth. “W-what…?” “I didn’t stutter, did I?” I looked down at him coldly. “I believe English is your first language. Or is it hard for you to comprehend two simple words?”

I bleed bonds from wrists to paper for those who forget. The girl puts heat to words, and they take offence like old men when the young stop saying father. I swear my knee… curls. Hair goes first, then bone. Letters hook, ash, shine. Threads snap overhead like a harp torn by fistfuls. Collars slip. A wolf touches his neck, finds it empty, and cries as if his name returned improved. “You cannot,” I say, calmly. “Words cannot be unspoken.” “I can burn them,” she says, and smiles like wine you didn’t order but drink.

God, please… help me. I have no one else to talk to.

All non-stories are this. Appearing as silence. Only this. The light that is. The love that is. The being that is. The story that is. The silence that is. Only this. The final word is not spoken. Because there is no mouth. The final silence is not heard. Because there is no ear. The final understanding is not thought. Because there is no mind. The final peace is not felt. Because there is no heart. Only this. The light that is. The love that is.

Somewhere in a grove no one could map, a book lay open on a flat stone its pages blank save for a single line, written not in ink, but pressed with intention: “Here is where we did not speak and still, the world listened.” A wind turned the page. Then left it open for the next to come.