Silent Book Club Chicago Novels & Stories

She wondered where it was really coming from, the beautiful harmony giving her some kind of peace. A peace that she wanted to enjoy as it lasted. Her feet touched the carpeted floor as she stood up taking tiny silent steps out of the room. She looked around and noticed the last room down the hall way, open with lights on. How could she resist to know what exactly was going on, especially with such music filling the whole house. She stopped exactly besides the wall of the room and looked inside trying so hard not to be noticed . Marco sat behind the black painted large piano, a big bottle of scotch settled on top of the wood and another had hit the wall leaving scattered glass all over the f

I wanted a temporary escape from the pain of loneliness and the void I felt inside. Julie brought me coffee while I set down our books. We both started reading, enjoying the silence around the coffee’s aroma and the new book's fresh scent. It felt wonderful to be back at the book club. It had always been my sanctuary, a place to unwind. Whenever I felt down, books and coffee were my solace. After our book club session, Julie and I went shopping. We treated ourselves to makeovers. I transformed my mid-waist, brown hair, opting for a pixie cut and a new blonde shade. We also indulged in manicures and pedicures.

She shivered at those thoughts. No, she wanted to handle this on her own. She sat back and drove to work. ... Carina glanced around at BookCrazy with satisfaction. Poetry nights drew large crowds, and they were all book buyers. Every Friday night, she often folds the bookstore into a small hall. Quietly, the soundtrack is melodious through the dimly lit passageways. Apple-green chairs were crammed together, and distorted coffee tables had been pulled from the warehouse and arranged in an informal circle. The crowd was an interesting mix of intellectuals, some quite serious and others just wanting a night of entertainment. She pulled the mic up onto a small platform, and checked her watch aga

Being alone with a good book and alcohol or caffeine is the best feeling in the world, probably better than sex. The next day, I walked into Monet's and met a group of ladies who were fine as hell. I was relieved to see that there were no men here. At least if there was going to be a man, he should be gay, and we all agreed to that. We were six: Cindy Bellman, Aisha Mohammed, Drew Finch, Jessica Boston, Lexi Hale, and me. We were just six beautiful ladies who loved to talk about our favourite books and rant about how J. K. Rowling is a bitch for her transphobic tweets. Sometimes we'd just go out to have some fun. We weren't just a book club; we were a sisterhood.

They entered, drawn in by the aroma of well-loved books and the faint rustling of pages turning. A pleasant bookseller approached them as they surveyed the shelves, their eyes wide with wonder. "Are you looking for anything in particular?" she said, her voice kind and welcoming. Lucian grinned. "We're open to surprises; what do you recommend?" The bookseller's eyes twinkled with enthusiasm. "Ah, then, let me introduce you to our Book Club, which meets here every week to engage in fascinating literary discussions, and you're welcome to join them." Lucian and Ravena gladly accepted the offer, intrigued by the thought of participating in conversations with fellow book enthusiasts. The next week

“But just calm down and think about it.” Lena huffed. “Fine. I’ll try.” “Good.” “I’ll talk to you later,” Chloe added. “I’m a bit busy now.” “Yeah… bye.” The call ended. Lena lay back on her bed, her phone resting on her chest. Her eyes stared at the ceiling. Out of all the places in the world— It had to be her book club. The one place she found peace. The one place she genuinely made connections with people that were like family to her.

The sound was deafening in the quiet room. *Buzz.* *Buzz.* My eyes tracked slowly down, my vision blurring with pure terror. Another message lit up the lock screen. *“Answer your phone.”* *Buzz.* *Buzz.* Another message rendered immediately underneath it. *“I’m already in Chicago.”* *Buzz.* *Buzz.* The screen flashed one final time, the words making me go pale. *“We need to finish what started five years ago.”*

“Only when I’m holding a microphone.” “You inspired our Literary Club project this year,” one of them beamed. “Oh?” “We made a zine about unlearning silence. We called it The Fire We Keep.” Sophia paused. Then smiled, eyes glistening. That one landed deep. She stood behind the podium in the same assembly hall where she once sat in silence, in a blue-checked uniform, pretending not to hear classmates whispering about her. “When I was your age,” she began, “they said my voice was too loud. Too emotional.

“Oh. Well, you’ve been missed, you know. You should speak with Ms. Augustine. She never stopped talking about you. Although, her mind is going a bit these days, so don’t be too alarmed if she’s a little… confused.” At the mention of the elderly landlady, my heart softens. Another face I once loved—we started a book club together back when I lived here, and we would meet every Saturday for tea and to discuss our books. It was just the two of us, and Cliff sometimes barged in to steal our cookies, but I always treasured it. I never finished the last book we were supposed to read, actually. I wonder if it’s still here. Smiling, I tell Cliff that I’ll talk to her soon, and take Miles back upstai

It felt like I had been locked away in the darkness, and suddenly, the world was welcoming me back. Carla told me where Cassian usually escaped when he needed silence. It was a bench near the forest, away from the camp. So, I took two mugs of coffee for us and followed the faint trail out into the night, guided by the moonlight and heartbeat that kept me pounding harder with every step. The forest whispered around me, leaves shivering under the breeze until I saw him. Cassian sat on the old wooden bench, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed. Even from some distance, I could see that he was tired, like he had been carrying something unbearable alone.