Silence Like Glass Novels & Stories

Darkness swallowed the room. For one second, nobody moved. Then Zara heard Adrian’s voice. “Zara.” His hand found hers immediately. She held on. Hard. “I’m here.” “Stay behind me.” “You say that every time.” “And you ignore me every time.” Under different circumstances, Zara might have smiled. Instead, she heard another sound. A sharp crack from somewhere outside. Samuel cursed under his breath. “Get down.” Adrian pulled Zara toward the floor just as glass shattered across the living room.

Neither spoke. Nate stared at him. Max stared back. And in the silence between them, everything they'd spent months refusing to say seemed to gather at once. The door remained open. Neither of them moved. Neither looked away.

The specific quiet of a scar that had been carried for a long time. His fingers paused. One second. He looked at it. Then he looked at the green. He adjusted her grip. Clean. Professional. Like he had not just seen something that sat entirely wrong in his chest. Like his thumb had not hovered over that silver line for one involuntary second before he pulled back. He filed it. He did not put it down. "Focus on the shot," she said. He stepped back. --- They moved through the remaining holes in a silence that was not comfortable and not hostile. Just charged. The specific atmosphere of two people who have been standing too close for too long and are both pretending they have not noticed.

How awful. I have recorded the way back, we passed block after block without saying anything at all. He no longer walks behind my back, our steps are synchronized, we go side by side, walking together. I think I heard him humming a song and it reminded me of some doubt. “Do you like silence?” I ask, ready to kill that doubt. I don't give him my gaze, but I feel myself carrying the heaviness of his. “I love silence.” “How can you love silence and listen to heavy metal?”

He stopped in front of the glass nursery, tapping the reinforced pane with his silver tip. "A beautiful cage," Silas mused. "But then, Dark always did have a flair for the dramatic. He thinks that if he puts enough glass between you and the world, he can protect the 'asset.' He forgets that glass, no matter how thick, is still transparent." "What do you want?" Iza asked, her voice steady despite the hammer of her heart.

*****************************POV: Claire********************** --- There’s a certain kind of silence that doesn’t feel safe. Not the comfortable, blanket-wrapped kind that comes after a long day. Not the sweet, post-rain hush where everything smells like earth and renewal. No, this silence is sharp. Like a knife held just out of view. And that morning, it followed me.

CHAPTER 106: THE GLASS DEPTHS SONG OF THE CHAPTER: HEAVY BY LINKIN PARK LUCIEN’S POV: The cold hits me first. Not like wind or water but the kind of internal cold that is like grief wrapped in silence. I don’t speak as I walk. The world around me is gray, fogged at the edges like the in-between of a dream. Behind me, the cliffs fade into smoke. Ahead of me, nothing but endless, shimmering water lays like a still lake that stretches farther than the eye can comprehend. This is the entrance to the Glass Depths.

Then I sit back, let the cold air bite at my skin, and whisper to myself: “Let her guess.” Because this time, I am not coming with noise. I am coming with silence. And silence always cuts deeper.

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.

crestfallen souls' muffled cries, voluble minds of the wide awake who appears to be nocturnal, and mysteries that emerge when the world is in deep dark shadow They're to blame for how deafening silence can be at times. "You're quiet" I said. "Silence isn't quiet." he responded. I looked at him immediately. "The parting of vanilla clouds from the sky isn't as quiet as silence. The banging of hammer and thunder is not silence, but the banging of hammer and thunder. Silence is a yearning attention, not a reserve emotion. It's the sound of lungs gasping for air while barely breathing. It's the kind of chest that tears itself away from your ribcage, yearning to be heard and assured.."