Quiet Place Book Novels & Stories

She kept her tone light, but her gut was doing flips. Christina didn’t answer right away. Instead, she pulled a small object from the folds of her blanket and set it on the table with the kind of care usually reserved for live grenades. It was a book, small and battered, the kind of thing that might get lost in a flea market bargain bin—if you didn’t look too closely at the cover. Leila leaned in. The leather was cracked, the pages yellowed like they’d been left out in the sun for a century too long. Stamped into the cover was a symbol: an eye inside a triangle, surrounded by curling, intricate lines that almost seemed alive.

] [I just found this one—it's crazy good! [Peachy, soft, chewy. You gotta try it!] [Send me your address. I'll mail you a whole jar!] And then—boom—she finally replied. An address. Just like that, the weird wall between us disappeared. I'd hunted down that exact bunny candy, trying to match it to her profile pic. I just wanted to make that quiet girl smile. "Want me to unwrap it for you?" he asked, all soft voice and warm eyes. Not so cold and mysterious anymore.

I’d been through seven foster homes. Before each one sent me away, they stopped answering my questions, stopped looking at me, and let the house grow silent. I couldn’t stand that kind of silence. So I became someone who talked too much. When my biological mother finally brought me into the powerful Moretti family at seventeen, I tried even harder to make people like me. Within one day, I knew the guards’ birthdays, the school nurse’s favorite podcast, and where my classmates kept their emergency medication. My stepsister Bianca called it manipulation. My stepbrother Luca called it an addiction to attention. To cure me, he ordered my entire school and family not to speak to me for seventy-tw

The park was never, anyway, quiet. Late afternoon, even, it buzzed with its own murmurs of the mothers to the kids, pigeons cooing, sitting on lookout for crumb scraps of bread, and a fountain splashing where coins are spat on the sidewalk. To Leya, though, who sat on the lap of a maple tree, the world's quietest place. Her scarf had been blown from its path by the gust, her hair flowing on her head. She didn't care. Flesh warmed, and no Blackwood telling her to stand, sit, or breathe differently.

Something that shouldn't be disturbed in the house of silence, not far from the killing square. Hope sprang in this house, and her tidy walls did rattle with joy. It was the most the house could do, for if she was capable of more, her silver and goldwares, plates, and cups would have left their racks and cupboards to make high-pitched sounds. Beds, sofas, stools, chairs, and tables would have joined in, causing a ruckus to attract attention. But this was a house that was not to be noticed. A house cursed to create nothing but whispers. A house that wasn't a house.

I heard a raspy, haunting voice whispering in my head, hypnotizing and seducing my body and soul. "Who are you?" I whispered back, looking around the cold, dark, empty field. I couldn't see anything but snowflakes falling from the sky, clouding my peripheral vision. My bare feet were numb from walking on the thick snow though strangely I didn't feel cold, my mind knew it was cold. My eyesight suddenly caught a familiar old oak tree but oddly I couldn't remember why it looked familiar. I roamed my eyes to the vast surroundings, searching for that beautiful, enthralling voice. Nothing. I continued to walk and then out of nowhere, I saw an enormous manor, appeared out of nowhere, standing grote

•|•|• "A keffer? Do not speak of those curses unless you wished to be cursed yourself." •|•|• [Kayos] Peace and Quiet. The darkness was my home and I reveled in the quietness that accompanied the midnight as I casually flipped through the book I was reading in the dark. Despite having no candle light to see, I was quite able to read the words as clear as if it where day, only looking up when the door suddenly opened.

Sign up Log in BackInfoAdd to libraryInfo Navigated to -Chapter 20- | The White Wolf | Quotev Something was wrong. My bed seemed different. Warmth encircled me and the welcoming scent of the ocean woke me from my slumber. I was in Justin's room. I looked over realizing we had both moved to the middle of the bed causing me to be a few inches away from him. Justin's hair was a mess sticking up every which way, though mine was probably worse.

The same mark of the ancient Guild of Authors. But beneath it... another symbol had been added. A black circle. The First Reader's face turned completely pale. "No..." "An Author has joined the Silence." The lighthouse door slowly opened on its own. Darkness poured out like smoke. Then... a calm voice drifted across the empty shore. "I've been waiting for the next chapter..." "...Adrian." The White Book closed by itself. Its cover changed once more. Only four words remained, glowing in silver. THE SILENCE REMEMBERS EVERYTHING.

The morning light that filtered through the sheer linen drapes of Selah’s bedroom was soft, pale, and washed clean by the autumn storm. The quiet of the brownstone was absolute, punctuated only by the faint, distant chirp of city birds in the damp maples outside. Selah woke slowly, sinking into the deep, luxurious warmth of her mattress. For the first time in years, the phantom didn't wake up with her guard fully raised. There was no immediate scanning of her security feeds, no instant mental catalog of the day's threats.