Silent Night Author Novels & Stories

He would take it as a challenge. Skylar would reach a certain stream after weaving his way through the thick woods. That's a few miles of ground he covered every time he would be there. He would pant and stare at blackness when it was dark or at the moon's reflection in the water when it's out. Full moon was in a few days so it's bright out that tonight. Skylar could see the broken image of the moon in the water, obscured by the shadows of the leaves of trees surrounding the stream. Arriving there, he would calm down from the running and his wolf was soothed by being in the presence of the stream. Or more precisely, the scent surrounding it which pacified him and his disappointment for his h

Justin remained staring out at the blackened sky from the window. He hadn't spoken to me for some time seemingly content to stand in silence. Emma left for her shift a while ago to prepare breakfast for the morning meal. She wouldn't be back for some time. The stars flickered through the curtains dotting the ceiling in starlight. The snow capped mountains beyond stood proud and ominously against the star flecked sky. “Goodnight Val.” Justin eventually murmured heading for the door.

The silence here was different because it wasn’t comforting like the kind I had sometimes felt when Isabella fell asleep in my arms after a long day. No. This silence pressed into my bones. It followed me from room to room and filled in the gaps in my thoughts and the spaces where once Rafael’s voice echoed or Isabella’s giggles rang. It followed me in the early mornings when frost is on the window panes and it haunted me late at night when all I could do was lay still and stare at the cracked ceiling. I think it’s also bringing out the writer in me because why the hell am I thinking like a poet that I used to be? I was reminded of the many ones I’ve written for my mother and Rafael and even

Silas: I didn’t sleep. I never do. I just lay there—silent, still, eyes open to the dark. Not because I’m guarding the room, or waiting for something to strike, but because sleep is a language I never learned. It doesn’t speak to me. The room is colder than it was an hour ago. I feel it in the air, in the tightness of the space around us, in the breath she exhales like fog. Not from the cracked window or the thin blankets. It's me. It’s always me.

The distant sound of an ambulance siren pierced the silence, breaking the stillness. *** Several months later, one night, in a nightclub, the dim lights flickered softly, mingling with the loud music and the chatter of people. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol and desire. "Laura, someone's asking for you." A voice cut through the noise and reached Laura's ears. She paused for a moment, slowly lifting her gaze. A brief flicker of darkness passed through her eyes, like a weak star hidden behind a cloud, disappearing just as quickly.

I heard so many to give me headache, many students were passing by, It wasn't something I could control, on moving further, I could hear him, he was guilty and in pain, but I couldn't find him, but I when I get close to the wall I was turning my back to, he's thought get louder, it wasn't surprising if he was in the wall. Stuffs like that didn't surprise me anymore, but How can I get through it, I thought and look at the necklace in my hand, a pendant of a snowflake and a shiny silver ring was on it, it was beautiful and from the texture it looks like pure silver, but the snowflake was white, couldn't guess what it was made off but it was very pretty. I was still staring at the pendant and t

Occasionally, he hummed, but not a melody I recognized—more like a private rhythm that only he could hear. “You ever notice how quiet the world gets right before it tries to kill you?” I asked, my voice cutting through the hum of the engine and the whispering wind. He glanced at me, a grin tugging at his lips. “Quiet’s just the lullaby before chaos shows up fashionably late.” I rolled my eyes. “Poetic. Also terrifying.” “Terrifying’s my specialty,” he replied, then added softly, “Yours too, apparently.” I let that hang. Silence felt safer than words sometimes. I traced the rain streaks sliding down the window with a finger, pretending I wasn’t scanning the shadows for movement, for heat sign

The room was too quiet. Ezra jolted awake, sheets twisted around his waist like restraints. His breath came in hard, ragged gasps. His ears rang from silence, the kind that follows an explosion. Moonlight cut through the blinds in narrow slashes, dust and shadows drifting like ghosts. The other half of the bed was empty. But not silent. A sound—small, choked—shuddered from the edge of the mattress. Like someone trying to drown a scream.

One page at a time. One person at a time. One still, deep, patient day at a time. Until the water found its level. And the room became real. And the invisible all the invisible became seen. THE SILENT LUNA End of Volume One

He was still inside, probably finishing his drink, probably telling himself that I just needed a minute to calm down. I reached into my evening bag and pulled out the small, leather-bound journal I had started keeping. I flipped to the last entry and picked up the pen tucked into the spine. August 12th, I wrote, my hand surprisingly steady. Tonight, I realized that silence isn't just a lack of noise. It’s a weapon. And Gideon is an expert at wielding it.