Quiet In Her Bones Novels & Stories

The moon burns through my closed eyes. Not fire. Memory. The world turns white. I stand in a field of ribs. They rise from the earth in pale arcs, taller than trees. The ground beneath me is dry and cracked. No grass. No mud. No blood. Only bone dust and silence. A woman stands where the ribs curve inward. At first, she doesn’t look like a queen. She looks tired. Her cloak hangs from her shoulders in strips of shadow. Her hair is loose. Bone pieces lie around her feet, not a throne, not a crown, only wreckage.

she whispers. For a moment, I can only look at her, my mind racing through everything she’s just told me. The air feels colder, the faint hiss of the stove’s burner the only sound breaking the silence between us. After a few minutes of silence, Quincy is seated at the table, her face blotchy from crying, yet her expression is a volatile mix of anger and despair. The faint tremble in her hands is enough to make me tread cautiously, balancing the tray of desserts as though it might shield me from her next outburst.

"Mom, Dad, this is my friend, Fiona. Her staff dorm is being renovated, so she's gonna stay with us for a few days." My sister, Judy Floyd's, voice crashed over the room like thunder. I looked up. Judy was bouncing with excitement as she introduced her friend, Fiona Shepard, to my parents. Fiona was a young woman with a cool, slightly embarrassed face. "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Floyd. I'm Fiona. Thank you so much for having me. I honestly didn't know where I'd go."

Alone also meant no one to help her put herself back together. She stumbled to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. The woman staring back was a stranger—hollow-eyed, pale, with hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days. Dark circles hung beneath her eyes like bruises. Her skin had taken on a grayish cast that spoke of too little sleep and too much emotional trauma.

That was why I could bravely walk down there. With every step, I paused in preparation to run and hide. The entire staircase only had around 30 steps, yet it took me five whole minutes to walk all the way down. Stopping in front of the basement, I pressed my ear to the door and listened for sounds. "Ah! Ah!" A woman's moans came from inside, and it sounded sexual! Shocked, I felt chills run down my spine. As I thought, there was someone there! Who was she?

I asked them, staring them dead in the face. “Do you know who you’re even talking to?” An unknown voice came from the distance. It made me jump. “Dannika, how nice of you to join us.” Talia said, sarcastically. I turned my head, and saw a woman walking towards us. Dannika was tall, golden skinned, with green eyes and reddish brown hair. She was wearing a pair of black tights, and an olive green dressy tunic shirt. She had brown boots and brown leather fingerless gloves. “Declan, where’s my warm welcome, darling?” She turned to Declan, eyes wide and bright. “What do you want, Dannika?” Declan spat, inching closer to me. I rolled my eyes and stood up. “Why the hostility, my love?” She asked, p

Quiet is not the same as peace. Maya knows this because the base is quiet in at least twelve different unhealthy ways. There is the quiet of people pretending not to talk about her. The quiet of people very much talking about her behind water tanks, curtain walls, laundry lines, and one suspiciously philosophical stack of bean crates. And then there is the quiet Eli Carrasco carries with him. That one is different. That one does not push. Which is, frankly, rude.

Something is waiting. The realization settles in her bones like ice, and she knows she will not sleep again tonight.

White. For her. The quiet girl who still hadn't looked up. ...

"I'll toss this grubby little trinket in there for you. Think of it as your future Luna taking out the trash." "As for tonight—" She crouched, bringing her face level with mine. "You stay right here. On your knees. You don't move until I say so." She straightened, turned, and walked out. Her attendants fell in behind her without a word. I stayed on my knees. The stone floor was so cold it burned. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. The next morning, I ran. The Valley of Bones was a deep gorge carved into the far side of the mountain. The rock walls on both sides were streaked and stained—old blood, dried black. The air down there felt thick, stagnant, like the valley itself was holdi