Quiet In Her Bones Novels & Stories

The Voice Beneath The hand rising from the chasm clenched slowly, each knuckle cracking like falling stone. Heat poured out in waves. That thing whatever it was wasn’t just ancient, It was hungry. She is my daughter, or what remained of her didn’t move. Her eyes glowed as she looked down into the pit, transfixed. “You hear it too,” she whispered, almost reverently. “It’s always been there. Whispering beneath the bones of this town.”

My skin prickled all over. I lifted my chin, though I could not see him. “I am here.” The ground shifted again, and I could hear the crackle of bones moving, assembling and snapping into place. The air grew thick with dust and the faint stench of marrow. My breath caught. Then, there was silence. A voice, closer now, said, “I am Calgorr, Spirit of Bones. The one who rules what is left behind.” Jasmine growled at my side, but I gave her a gentle touch of reassurance, though my hands trembled.

Chelsea was terrified, crying nonstop and begging them to let her go. I stepped in front of her and got beaten until three of my ribs were broken. I even gave them the 100 thousand dollars I had saved over years of work for a down payment on a house, just to buy us some time. After hearing that, Chelsea fell silent. After a long time, she looked up. Her eyes were red, filled with despair. "Fine. I'll sign. Come to the company in three days, and I'll give you the papers." "Then it's settled. I'll be at the company in three days."

Hell, it feels good to walk about freely. Destiny picked a thin silky singlet top and its matching shorts that barely covered her round ass. She applied a face cream then brushed her blonde hair and held it in a bun. Suddenly, the door opened, and thinking it was Wilhelm, she spoke. "Where have your manners gone, Mr. Grey? You can't just barge in? What if I was naked?" She waited for his usual sarcastic smug reply but none came. "Do you scold your boyfriend that much for walking in on you?"

She is married and has one child. Her hobbies include kayaking, crafting and of course, writing novels. House of Quiet Screams is her debut novel, loosely based on true events and written to give voice to the silence many carry. Dedications For every woman who was told to stay silent. For those still living in quiet screams—you are not alone. For Daylen Bradley Harbin, My first true miracle— You made me a mother, and in doing so, gave my life deeper meaning. Your light, your spirit, and your love inspire me to be stronger, braver, and better every single day.

Her eyes briefly met the young girl next to Jasper, her eyes wide and innocent, then flickering with unease as she watched them. The girl gripped Jasper's arm, her fingers showing no sign of letting go. Gone was the shame of being the other woman she had felt the night before. She clung to him like a delicate flower in need of protection. Elaine saw a ghost of her past self in her. She had been that girl once. As Elaine made to leave, Lucy caught her eye, a taunting smile playing on her lips, and she subtly gestured to her neck. Elaine's gaze followed, taking in the pale, soft skin marred by a patchwork of love bites—the unmistakable signs of passionate affection.

She missed walking down the road like every other average lady without any fear of being watched. She missed the nostalgic feeling of freedom. She laughed at how things had barely changed. Not like she had expected it to, but she couldn’t help but wish things had changed. Diverting to the lonely path, she took out her phone and plugged in her earphones, playing gentle music to go with the environment, and twirled around noiselessly. This was her favorite scene. Her in a quiet place surrounded by nothing but grass and a pond, dancing with an invisible partner. Suddenly, she stopped and stared straight at her front, trying hard not to fall from her sudden stop.

Elara didn't know how long she'd been walking.Her legs moved on their own now, one foot in front of the other. She couldn't feel her toes anymore. The cold had eaten through her worn boots, and her dress was still damp from crossing the river. The forest around her was **quiet**. Too quiet. No birds. No wind. Just the sound of her own ragged breathing and the soft crunch of snow beneath her feet. She stumbled over a root and fell hard onto her knees. Pain shot through her legs, but she barely felt it. Everything hurts now. Her hands. Her back. Her heart.

"If I don't return by sunrise, continue to the capital. Tell Lord Blackmoor's son what happened." He stepped through the bone archway before she could object further. The darkness within closed around him like liquid night, cutting off all sound and sensation from the world outside. For a moment, he experienced perfect isolation, suspended in void without reference point or direction. Then the bones began to sing. Not with sound as living creatures would understand it, but with resonance that vibrated through whatever remained of his soul. Each named bone in the ossuary's construction contained not just identity but memory, experience, the accumulated weight of lives willingly surrendered to

Knew the rhythm in her bones. Barefoot. Like a sacrifice. Like a queen. She passed a boundary stone half-buried in moss, carved with a sigil she didn’t understand……but her blood did. It quickened. A sharp, pulse-beat in her throat. She touched it lightly with her fingertips, then moved on. The deeper she went, the stranger the silence became. Not absence of sound……but anticipation. Like the forest was holding its breath. And then it broke. A shadow slipped between trees ahead of her. Fast. Lean. Low to the ground. A wolf, but not wild. Not ordinary. Its fur glistened dark as midnight, and its eyes—