Silence Is The Best Answer Novels & Stories

"I want to know how deep you go." His fingers stopped. "That's what she said." I blinked. "Who are you and what have you done to the Ivan Trevelyan?" Look at us, having a normal conversation. "Has anyone ever told you, you talk too much?" Okay, never mind. I pretended to think for a while. "Nope, I don't think so." "Well, you do. Silence is underrated. I think what everybody needs to do is sit down in calm, peaceful silence and try to understand its concept. Not in a sad, depressing way but to just sit down and not do or think about anything. It's nice."

I grabbed my laptop, attempting to draft a response to a blog post. But my hands hovered around the keyboard, thinking of the perfect thing to say. My mind was blank and I didn’t know what to type. “Fuck it!” I cursed through gritted teeth as I slammed the laptop close. It wasn’t even worth it. Silence was the best answer in the situation. If I responded, things were only going to get worse.

I was okay with it, and I shut my eyes to receive its true essence. Having some sense of relief, I opened my eyes. Flicking them to see Luigi smiling. His side profile to me. "What's funny?" He turned, still wearing a smile. "Nothing. Just proud of myself for keeping you at ease. Being a psychotherapist isn't a castle in the air." Yeah, right. He could glory in his delusions. I'd let him. "Sometimes, silence is the most effective way to communicate. It does speak louder than words." He inclined his form to me, propping his hand on his lap. "You can't go on like this. Suffering alone and shutting everyone out. It's got to stop."

A terrifying, impossible thought. No. I whisper the word to the empty room. "No." But the silence doesn't answer. The silence just watches. And waits.

She had no special skills, no talents that would interest someone like him. Don Linus watched her in silence for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he took a step back. “I’ll give you some time to think about that,” he said, his voice clipped. “You’re too pretty for me to put a bullet through your head....”

"There are things a mother knows before the doctors tell her. Before the tests confirm it. Before the world catches up. She knows because her blood made his blood. And blood does not lie." * * * I have a rule about silences. When someone says something that is designed to unsettle you, the worst thing you can do is fill the quiet immediately. Filling the silence hands them the advantage. It tells them they found the crack. So I have trained myself, over years of operating in rooms where I had less power than everyone else present, to simply breathe through the moment until I know exactly which version of myself I need to be.

I whispered. Neither of them answered immediately. And somehow… That silence felt worse than any answer could have been.

And the silence hurts worse than anything. End of story 3

And truth, once spoken, does not return quietly to sleep. She turns from the window, phone heavy in her hand, already considering what comes next. Silence, after all, can be learned. And it can also be weaponized.

The soothing sound of water cascading from the fountain was inviting. I walked over to the bench and took a seat. The gentle, rhythmic sound of the water was so relaxing and soothing that I didn't notice myself drifting off to sleep. The weariness of the journey, combined with the peaceful ambiance of the garden, was too much for my tired body to resist.