Not So Silent Nights Novels & Stories

Let it snow, let it snow… Zack reaches for the TV remote, turning it off and placing the remote on the bedside table before turning of the lamp beside the bed. The room plunges into darkness and silence, leaving only the faint, orange glow of a streetlamp filtering through the thin curtains. He settles back into the mattress, the quiet of the motel room wrapping around them both. He does not let go. Even in the dark, his arm remains heavy across Anna’s waist, his thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles against her hip. The silence is not heavy; it is comfortable, filled only by the steady rhythm of their breathing. “Sleep, Anna,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a breath. his eyes are

Pale light spilled through the canopy, turning leaves into shards of glass and shadows into quiet witnesses. Our footsteps crunched softly against the earth as we walked side by side, the night alive with distant howls and rustling wings. Cassian broke the silence first, his voice edged with regret. “I shouldn’t have said that. You took advantage of me, little fawn.” I laughed, unable to stop myself. There was triumph in my voice, light and unapologetic. “Oh, dear Cassian. That’s the power of negotiations.” I tilted my head toward him, smiling. “You offered me this.”

Someone laughed. Someone said goodbye. Eventually, the house fell silent. Nate remained awake. He hadn't moved much. He sat on the edge of the bed staring at his phone. A message from Micah appeared. Micah: You okay? Nate typed: Nate: Yeah. He wasn't. But he didn't know how to explain that. Another hour passed. Then came a knock. Three quiet taps. Nate froze. He knew who it was. He stood slowly. Another knock.

A distant rumble shook the heavens. The crack above the city widened slightly. Everyone looked up. The darkness beyond reality was moving. Watching. Waiting. The First Silence. Nova felt it immediately. Not fear. Not anger. Curiosity. The First Silence was observing. Learning. Like it always had. The Third Silence noticed too. His expression hardened. "He's here." The First Memory nodded. "Yes." The city grew brighter. Silver light flooded the horizon. Then the world became quiet. Perfectly quiet. Every sound vanished.

I will entertain myself to the fullest. Then, creepy chuckles resonated around the room. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The pale crescent moon shone like a silvery claw in the night sky. Leaves of the trees sway softly by the calm wind. It's a usual silent night, when the occasional barking of faraway dogs broke the serenity.

Not blinking. Not saying a word.

Someone who wasn’t dreaming about her husband. Le Silencio was unlike any club back home. Subdued lighting, deep velvet banquettes, a pervasive sense of expensive, curated cool. The music wasn’t pounding; it was a deep, sensual throb, a bassline that vibrated in your chest. It felt sophisticated, dangerous. Perfect. I claimed a spot at the long, polished bar, ordering a French 75. The first sip was crisp, cold, bracing. I ordered another.

The nightlight in the corner had surrendered much of its glow to the coming gray; its dome shone like the last ember in a bowl of ash. The apartment was prepared for threats with teeth. It was not prepared for this kind of silence — domestic, ordinary, the kind that tempts a guard to blink. In the corridor, a shoe scuffed and then didn’t scuff again. Somewhere, a refrigerator compressor took a breath and released it.

By the time Benjamin finished giving his statement at the police station and returned home, it was already past midnight. The moment he stepped into the house, he sensed something was wrong. It was too quiet. The massive mansion was shrouded in darkness. Not a single light was on. The occasional chirping of insects and whisper of wind in the courtyard suddenly felt jarring, eerily loud in the stillness. Benjamin frowned instinctively. No matter what time he came home, Nissa always left a light on for him. She once said that was what made it feel like home.

The room was dark except for the glow of three screens, their shifting light painting Leo’s face in hues of blue and green. Outside, the neighborhood had gone quiet — no traffic, no chatter, no footsteps in the hall. It was past midnight, but Leo thrived at these hours, when the world finally gave him silence.