Silent Night Author Novels & Stories

Writer's POV The house was silent, and not the peaceful kind of silence, but the heavy kind that made every small sound feel louder than it should be. The halls were dark, lit only by the faint glow of moonlight slipping through the windows. Everyone was asleep, and everyone was unaware. Liana lay in her bed, breathing softly. She had fallen asleep thinking about Jace and about their conversation and the way his arms felt around her again. For the first time in months, her dreams were not haunted by pain; she slept peacefully, unaware of the danger creeping closer with every passing second. The door to her room opened slowly.

Kylie’s POV. The dead of night enshrouded the room, a blanket of silence so profound it seemed the world outside had ceased to exist. Every corner was bathed in shadows, and the only sound was the rhythmic whisper of my own breath, harmonizing with the distant hum of the city. The night had wrapped its serene, dreamlike calm around me—a stark contrast to the sudden unease that prickled at the back of my neck, an instinctive warning that the peace was about to be shattered.

But with each passing day, these whispers became louder, more persistent, making it harder for her to ignore them. Jane's silent love for Mike was a ticking time bomb, a storm brewing beneath the calm surface. Each laugh, each conversation, and each shared moment added to the intensity of her feelings, pushing her closer to the edge. As she stood on the brink of this emotional turmoil, Jane was about to embark on an extraordinary journey - a journey of love, of unspoken confessions, and of silent whispers of longing. Her story was just beginning. This was her story - the story of a girl who loved her best friend in silence, the story of silent whispers of love.

I waited until you chose to leave on your own. His voice was calm. "Now, you have. "So, I came to take you away." Outside the window, the lights of Palemore grew further and further away. I did not cry. I just watched the city fade away in the rearview mirror. Quietly, in my heart, I said, ‘Goodbye, Sicelia.’ Goodbye to everyone who never loved me.

“You’re up early.” “Couldn’t sleep. The quiet keeps finding me.” I leaned against the fence, the wood cold beneath my hands. “The quiet is usually a good thing.” “It is. But it’s also strange. I keep waiting for the sound of something breaking. The snap of a branch, the creak of a gate, the whisper of something moving in the dark.” I let that settle in my chest. I felt the cold seep through my coat, pressing against my shoulders. “Maybe we don’t know how to rest without waiting for the blow.”

There was no careful negotiation of space anymore—only the now-familiar shape of us fitting together under the covers, my head on his chest, his arms around me, the quiet rhythm of his breathing under my ear. “Volume?” he asked one last time, soft against my hair. “Quiet,” I answered. “All the way quiet.” His lips curved. “Then sleep. I’ve got you.” I slept. And in the morning I would wake up still choosing him, still being chosen, still learning how to let the ordinary become the miracle— one honest breath, one shared silence, one deliberately written page at a time.

Peaceful on the surface. But something feels off. I lie down slowly, pulling the covers over myself. My eyes grow heavy. Sleep comes. Softly. But not gently. Because deep into the night A sound breaks the silence. Soft. Careful. From inside my room. And I am no longer alone.

I pulled it on, the hem falling to mid-thigh. I climbed into the stiff, cold bed. My body felt like it was made of lead. I reached for my phone, flicked the switch to **Silent**, and shoved it under the pillow. Within seconds, the darkness claimed me. **NATHANIEL** I was lying in the middle of our massive bed, staring at the ceiling. The silence of the room was deafening. Every few minutes, I checked the time. *1:00 AM.* *1:30 AM.*

If this humble book made you happy, sad, scared, or any other feelings even just for a second or if it taught you anything in life just a little bit, then it has served its purpose. SILENT CRY....now signing off. 💖

She didn’t need to turn to know who it was. “I read your piece,” William’s voice came, soft but deep. Evelyn continued gazing at the night sky. “Which piece? I’ve written a lot,” she said lightly, without sarcasm. “The one you posted in the early morning. About silence. About healing.” William now stood beside her—but not too close. He knew the boundaries. “I only... wrote it for myself,” Evelyn said. “But without realizing, you were writing for so many who didn’t know how to speak,” William replied, his voice like a whisper that could wrap around someone.