Quiet Song Lyrics Matilda Novels & Stories

The familiar sequence — key in the lock, the slight resistance of the door, the sound of her bag hitting the floor. Then Anne herself, stepping in with the exhaustion of someone who had been holding other people together all day. She dropped onto the couch. “Tell me the evening is going to be quiet.” “I made food,” Joy said. “You’re my favourite person.” They ate on the couch. No television. Just the quiet shift into evening. Joy was quieter than usual. “How was your day?” Anne asked. “Quiet. You?” Anne exhaled. “Tiring. One of my clients was having a harder day. Those ones stay with you.”

Matilda said with lack of confidence, she realized she already fucked up so she was not her usual self that would ask him such a question with so much confidence. “What is wrong with you Matilda? Don’t you get it yet? You are not needed here, look around you and see that no one wants you here.” Those were not the kind of words she would wish to hear. Matilda tried as much as she could to separate both of them but it wasn’t working so she thought it would be better to focus on just getting him to like her which felt almost impossible but there was no harm trying.

LILA The cold metal bars dug into my back. “Sierra?” I whispered, voice rough. No answer. Just silence… until I heard it again. That soft, strange sound. “Lila...” a voice sang gently. “Lullaby… child of moonlight… child of song…” I froze. My breath caught in my throat as I slowly lifted my head. “Who’s there?”

It had been almost 2 hours that she had been walking on a road that seemed to have no end. Not a single car had passed by since then. Her legs were already starting to ache and blister. Sophia was exhausted and she couldn't continue her journey in the dark like this. Only the moonlight illuminated her path. She could hear animal noises like birds, crickets, and even a stray dog, which was really scary. The breeze began to pierce her skin, unluckily she was not wearing a thick jacket. Sophia could only hug her own body. “Mom, it's cold ....”

she smiled genuinely making me heart warm up to her. I mastered up a small smile and went inside, I felt my anxiety pipe up and I nodded at them in acknowledgment. One good thing about my family is that they all are comfortable with my silence. Apart from my parents no one knows that I can speak again and no one ever forced me to either. It's better this way. Not having to explain anything to anyone. Staying in my own mind, even though it can be harmful sometimes I don't care. "I'm literally stinking and exhausted right now" I wanted to groan but smiled at what Malaika was saying. She was a nice girl with an even beautiful accent. Her Urdu is to die for, god. That's my new inspiration right

Her gentleness, her quiet resilience, that's what he fell for without realizing it. But as he looked into her clear, detached eyes, he could not bring himself to say a word. Because it was clear. She no longer cared about love or heartbreak.

he replied casually. Lavender Quinn was Sean's junior colleague. I didn't know what to feel, except pity that after all the effort we'd put into buying the tickets, neither of us had really paid attention. On the way back, Sean pulled out his phone again. I couldn't take it and slammed it shut. He frowned at me. Looking him in the eye, I said teasingly, "You've missed two monthly dates already. I finally got you here, yet you're constantly on your phone. And you keep talking about your colleague. I'm going to get jealous now."

Well, at least I have my dog. It’s almost 9 o’clock and our house is completely silent. It’s like a deafening silence where you can even hear your own breathing. The butler and maids are already resting in their quarters. I climbed the stairs toward the second floor to my room and sat on the stool in front of my vanity mirror. I stared at my reflection for minutes, long enough for me to notice that I was so pale. Normally, I have rosy skin. But maybe I’m just tired or burnt out because of doing my homework and se0uolnding my parents off.

Matilda replied before leaning forward in her seat until we were closer than we were, a moment ago. “If there’s anything you’d like to talk about, any time or any moment, don’t hesitate to come to me, hm? I’m always ready to listen.” Matilda continued to say after a few seconds, staring straight into my eyes – all traces of playfulness and goofiness gone from her voice, and leaving behind a serious woman that ozzed so much maturity and confidence.

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.