Shattering Silence Book Novels & Stories

“I am the Silence. And the silence is where the noise goes to die.” ​I moved away from the threshold and stepped into the path of the black tide. I did not have a sword. I did not have a shield. I only had the emptiness of my own spirit. I opened the center of my being, the place where the Shadow King had always kept his secrets. I did not try to push the Dissonance away. I did not try to fight it with light. I did the only thing a shadow knows how to do. I absorbed it.

"If I were her, I'd probably pretend to be mute and stay silent for years too. That voice is enough to make anyone want to gouge their own ears out!" My desk was kicked over, sending all the books scattering across the floor. Alice yanked my hair hard, then she raised her hand and slapped me across the face. "I'm talking to you, Summer! Your mute act is over, and now you're deaf? Can't hear anyone, right?" I shoved her with all my strength. "Let go of me!"

One poorly chosen word. Irreversible. I imagined my hands shaking, my voice breaking, headlines twisting every syllable. My throat tightened. Absolutely not. Silence. Say nothing. Disappear. Let the storm exhaust itself. Silence could feel dignified. Untouchable. Above the noise. But silence could also look like confirmation. The world hated empty spaces. It filled them with its own stories. And right now, their stories were merciless. I exhaled slowly. Silence was both shield and weapon.

Who said silence doesn’t scream? ​ There are silences so fierce they tear you from reality, plunging you into a trance where life and afterlife blur together. Eyes squeezed shut, Ziniya felt panic claw at her, the relentless, piercing ring in her ears amplifying both relief and terror. Her soul, battered by the howling quiet, trembled as anxiety threatened to overwhelm her completely. ​ For a heartbeat, her mind threw up desperate walls, shielding her from the nightmare unraveling around her. Overwhelmed by hopelessness and exhaustion, she longed for release, aching for escape in the darkness—yet fate granted no comforting oblivion, only pain.

Each story throbbed with distance, with other people’s victories. Promise drew water in silence, balancing the bucket against her hip. As she walked back, children followed, chanting, “Model! Model!” Not with cruelty this time, but with delight. She smiled faintly, though her chest tightened. Inside their room, she lit the small torch and opened her notebook. She wrote: Silence can crush. Silence can protect. Silence can also wait. I must learn which silence to carry. Night stretched long. Promise lay on the mattress, listening to Daniel breathe steadily. The storm’s echoes still lingered in the ceiling’s creaks. She closed her eyes, and memory blurred into dream.

I was starting to resent what he used it for. I wrote about it on the blog that night. Not directly – never directly. About loving someone who speaks fluent silence. About the difference between a man who's quiet because he's at peace and a man who's quiet because he's built a soundproof room inside himself and locked the door from the inside. About wanting to break in and knowing that breaking in would shatter the only structure keeping him upright.

I'll be back. I know. You better be. I will. She set the phone down. The room was quiet. The street below was quiet. She picked up the book. Clara's book. The one she didn't understand. Opened it. Read the first page. The words still blurred. She kept reading.

It went into the book. Both of them. The trap that had been built for one, sprung on another. The book slammed shut. The symbols went dark. The shaking stopped. The silence that followed was the most complete silence I had ever experienced, the silence of a room where several enormous things had just finished happening simultaneously, and I stood in the middle of it with an empty gun in my shaking hands and tears drying on my swollen face and then my legs made their final decision about how much they had left and I went down.

The water was clear enough for me to see every rock that covered the bottom of it, every color could be seen. "Subhanallah" I whispered as I heard birds chirping around me. The first time I talked my throat felt like sandpaper no one said a word when it came to my past, they knew it all from going through the journal that had been my only companion in the darkness I came from, I didn't say anything when Myra returned the journal to me with tears in her eyes and I looked away from the sympathetic gazes of my family.

With silence that was too loud to explain away. They didn’t clap nor smiled. And I didn’t either.