Silence Characters Novels & Stories

"You thought I was a fool?" She knew it was useless arguing him. "Why are you silent, couldn’t answer?"" "My silence means I am tired of fighting and there is nothing left to fight for, I am tired of explaining my feelings to you but now I don't have the energy to explain them, right now I am on a self healing process and I am trying to forget everything that I ever wanted from you, I have always adapted to the changes in my life and even now I'm going to adjust and I'm not complaining, I am just trying to move on gracefully with all my dignity, I will definitely return your money, sorry and thanks for everything.” with that she walked away tears clouding her vision, rubbing it with the back

Lightsticks beamed brightly in the darkness, flooding the space with vibrant hues. "Silence speaks for those who listen." Kyle's magnetic voice came through as he jumped down the swing. The music gradually grew louder. "This song tells the story of a boy who took forever to understand the whispers of his silence, finally losing the girl he loves," he continued. "Hope you'll enjoy it."

He put it to the highest volume so that he won’t hear any noise aside from his music. Meanwhile, a loud noise can be heard in a nearby house. The breaking sound of the glass that comes off the table rang out in the whole house. There, a guy came out of the house while hanging his empty bag on his shoulder. He has this blank and emotionless face while walking out of the house. He looked at his own Harry Winston wrist watch that was a gift to him by his father.

Not a single chirp but pairs and pairs that they unsure how many of it. Half of a minute, that's what it took for the those in nest to come, silently just their described by their name "The sãlnes" a k.a "The silence". They are very sensitive to sound, very sensitive, as much as breathe could be caught. They would prefer them silence, and then only sounds they love, maybe the ripping flesh and bone. No one know how it's look, that's all myth but maybe some information at this moment.

His pale, chubby face was covered in tears, looking unbearably pitiful. My mother kept coaxing him, but I was pushed past my limit. "Shut up." The words slipped out before I could stop them, and even I was startled. Ever since I realized I was a character in a novel at age five, I hadn't spoken a word. I didn't want to be a toy for readers' amusement. But Elias was unbearable—noisy as a duck, quacking nonstop in my ear. He'd already done something wrong, and we had forgiven him, yet he kept wailing as if the world was ending. Did he not know how annoying he was?

That was the word I’d never had a chance to say in my life. My fate finally brought me to my grandparents home, but my inability to speak came in my way. Unlike that dream, I couldn’t speak in the real world. Raising my trembling hands, I signed, forming the familiar words with my fingers. “Sorry. I am mute.” Silence blanketed the room as Corra’s eyes softened, glimmering with tears. But Velen wasn’t impressed at all. His lilac irises flared, burning so brightly that they nearly swallowed the whites of his eyes.

Silent. Staring at her with those dead eyes. More seconds passed. The air in the room felt wrong. Too thick. Too cold. Carmina took a step backward without meaning to. Then another. Her back hit the door. "Killian," she whispered. Nothing. The silence was worse than shouting. Worse than violence. It was the silence before something terrible happens. Carmina's heart was hammering in her chest. Her hands shaking so badly she could barely hold her cane. "Say something," she said.

Slow. I Let the silence hang. Let him marinate. Then, soft as a razor: "Call me again when your brain finishes rebooting." Click.

At the DeLuca Family banquet announcing its new advisor, Matteo said he was going to end nine years of secrecy and finally acknowledge our relationship in public. I stood in the back row of the banquet hall, so nervous I'd crumpled my prepared speech into a ball. Over nine years, I'd cleaned up the port books for him three times, negotiated two cross-border shipping routes, and taken a bullet for him. Everyone knew the DeLuca Family had a female advisor who never showed her face, but no one knew I was that woman. I thought that after tonight, I would finally stop being his shadow. Until the screen at the front of the banquet hall lit up. There was no photo of us. Instead, there was only a si

On the infirmary door, beneath the title, I write the same sentence we added yesterday at Lunathiel’s request: “If you don’t understand, ask. Silence is not punishment; it helps.” Mae rises from her table, scans the lines, and says only: “This will work — because it’s short.” “And because it’s true,” I reply. In the kitchen, the cook and his two assistants stand by the fire. One of the assistants instinctively goes to strike the copper bell to signal the next dish, then laughs and instead raises his hand: wide palm, half-circle downward — our “soft” sign. The other nods and brings the bowl. No clatter. This kind of silence I love — it has purpose.