On A Quiet Street Novels & Stories

​"They already know, Cynthia. That’s why the car is at the corner." ​The kitchen went completely quiet, the only sound the low, rhythmic hum of the sub-zero refrigerator and the distant, wet hiss of the Manhattan traffic down on the avenue. It was a sterile, expensive kind of quiet, the kind Bella used to think could protect her before the world on the mountain taught her how much an old floorboard could bear.

You didn’t move vehicles through a residential street at this hour without lights unless you did not want to be seen coming. I looked down at the street. Two vehicles. Dark, large, positioned at both ends of the block. Not moving. Just stopped. The street had been quiet thirty seconds ago. The ordinary quiet of a mid-evening residential block. The sound that came now was wrong in the specific way that things were wrong when they were trying not to be noticed. I looked at Lena.

He stood up, locking his briefcase with a sharp, echoing click. "Thank you for your cooperation. I’ll see to it that the warden hears of your helpfulness." Meanwhile, miles away in the cozy, warm sanctuary of Selah's brownstone, the impending storm felt a lifetime away. The living room was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of a few lamps and the streetlights filtering through the sheer curtains. The aroma of a home-cooked dinner lingered in the air, and a vinyl record spun slowly in the corner, playing a soft, sultry jazz melody.

My out-of-town neighborhood was quiet as usual despite being a Friday night, making it the perfect environment to quieten my noisy mind. Letting my feet carry me to wherever they wished to, I soon found myself on a street I rarely walked on. The streetlights were a little dim and the lack of people around really made it a little creepy. Still, I walked down the street and looked forward to turning off a few feet ahead onto a familiar road.

The moon is shining brightly overhead, and the stars are twinkling in the sky. As I walk down the street, I notice how quiet it is. There's no traffic, no noise—just the sound of my footsteps on the pavement. It's as if the world has paused just for this moment. And in this moment, I feel a sense of calm and clarity that I haven't felt in a long time.

I couldn’t speak until I was eight years old. Everyone in the Sterling family called me dumb. Even my mother would secretly wipe away tears, convinced she had given birth to an autistic daughter. Whenever my father looked at me, his eyes were filled with nothing but disappointment. However, for the sake of the family’s reputation, he could never bring himself to send me away to a special education school. Then came the day someone from a prominent hedge fund company arrived to acquire our family company, Sterling Group. He was so arrogant that he chewed out everyone in the boardroom until all of them hung their heads low. The room full of corporate executives fell silent, too terrified to

POV: Mira The streets of the Human Quarters were unnervingly quiet, the kind of silence that felt alive, crawling up my spine and settling in the pit of my stomach. It wasn’t peace—it was the ominous calm of a city holding its breath, waiting for something to break. The cold bit into my fingers through the thin gloves I wore, and I tucked my hands deeper into my pockets, trying to ignore the prickle of unease that came with every shadow stretching too long, every drone’s hum too loud.

The quiet of the suburbs rushed in, loud and strange compared to the hum of the city. I leaned back against the headrest, keeping my eyes fixed on the house across the street. It was a two-story home with light siding and a small porch. A single lamp glowed through the window on the ground floor, casting a yellow light onto the bushes outside. I waited. My gaze scanned the driveway, looking for a car I might recognize. There was a modest sedan parked near the garage door. No luxury vehicles. No sports cars from hockey players.

The street was quiet. No news vans. No black cars. Just us and the sound of our keys. In the car, Damian didn't drive right away. He just sat there. Hands on the wheel. You okay, I asked. I don't know, he said. I think I forgot what quiet feels like. I reached over and turned off the radio. Now it's quiet, I said. He smiled. Small. Real. We drove home slow. --- Morning came without an alarm. No court date.

Something that should mean I-DO-NOT-CARE. “I’m ready,” I muttered, brushing past Luca. He silently fell in step behind me. The drive through the bustling streets was quiet. I leaned back against the cool leather seat, letting the night breeze slip through the window and kiss my skin. The city lights blurred past, but my thoughts were sharp, swirling faster than the traffic outside. --- The restaurant loomed ahead, quiet, upscale, and almost too perfect. My heels echoed with every step as I walked in, their click against the marble floor slicing through the silence.