Silent Solitude Novels & Stories

Winter snapped almost causing my left ear to go deaf. “I’m sorry sir” he said softly with his head faced down. “YOU ARE A DISAPPOINTMENT NOTHING MORE!” he yelled. “I wonder how Mr. Haze would think if he saw you right now.” I felt something wetting my hand as I slowly took a glance at my hand which was on the table just beneath Sorrows head. Tears had covered it and I knew they came from Sorrow. “Everyone you can go home” Mr. Winter quickly said. We all started packing our books and heading out.

In one place, there was thunder and lightning, while in another, the night sky was clear with starlight. With the thunder rumbling and my heart beating far too fast, I collapsed inside my own closet.

But then, like clockwork, his voice would intrude. “They’re gone, Anya. They didn’t even look for you,” he would whisper, his tone dripping with sweet poison. “You’re better off without them. Embrace the solitude. I’m all you need.” And I would fold in on myself, the weight of despair pushing me deeper into the abyss. I had grown to fear the silence. It was in those quiet moments that the shadows took form, wrapping around me, whispering doubts that threatened to consume my very being. 20

By the time Benjamin finished giving his statement at the police station and returned home, it was already past midnight. The moment he stepped into the house, he sensed something was wrong. It was too quiet. The massive mansion was shrouded in darkness. Not a single light was on. The occasional chirping of insects and whisper of wind in the courtyard suddenly felt jarring, eerily loud in the stillness. Benjamin frowned instinctively. No matter what time he came home, Nissa always left a light on for him. She once said that was what made it feel like home.

“Look at this. It’s changing.” He knelt beside her. The charred markings pulsed briefly, then went still, fading into damp earth. For the first time in hours — or days, time meant nothing inside that light — the world felt still. Too still. “Do you feel that?” she whispered. “What?” “The quiet.” He listened. No wind. No birds. Even the river ran silently, as though afraid to draw attention. “Yeah. I feel it.” Serenya rose slowly, brushing dirt from her palms. “This place doesn’t like peace. Every time it goes quiet, something follows.”

Four sentences in, and I’d hit a wall, unsure whether to keep going or stop before I embarrassed myself. There was a time when my life bent itself to fit others. I made space for everyone, even if it meant shrinking myself. And maybe I still do - but at least now, I can recognize it. And sometimes, I stop myself. Everything around me used to feel like it carried a quiet sadness. The kind you can’t name, only feel. Most nights, behind closed doors, I’d sit and cry. The kind of crying that leaves you dry and hollow. Not loud, not desperate - just quiet enough to wonder if anyone would ever notice. If anyone would ever wrap their arms around me and make me feel safe again.

He said as a smile appeared on his face. "Did it help?" I asked as I tilted my head and stared at him. "Yeah, actually. I like this place because it's so calm and peaceful, it's soothing and relaxing. It makes me forget about my worries for a while. And nobody ever comes here, so it became my special hideout." "So, you've never brought anyone here except Bruno?" I asked slowly. "No. None of my friends or family knows about this place, not even Felix." "And you brought me here." I said, my voice barely above a whisper but knew he heard me.

Matt plunged harder and faster in a wild, primitive rhythm that drove her higher and higher. Savannah clung to him in a fever of need, oblivious to the fact her nails were digging into his flesh. She felt as if he were lifting her out of herself to a realm where nothing existed but his hot, hard body filling her, possessing her. And she was totally unaware of the breathless plea for more escaping her as he captured the erotic sound with his mouth. She felt his great body shudder violently, and she cried out his name as wave after wave of explosive sensations swept her into an ecstatic oblivion.

"This hotel belongs to your uncle?" Nodding, he pillowed his head and lay on the floor, giving a click to the remote he held. The vault switched to a transparent top. "Here is where I speak to the silence, blame the world, and shed my tears." That somehow dimmed the glow hopping on her hand. She took a seat next to him. Under the soothing lights, his sharp facial features stood out even more, and so did his bottled loneliness. She understood the familiar silence. It was whispering, yearning to be heard after years of being ignored.

I just watched the sliver of grey moonlight hitting the hallway. ​Dante didn't rush out. He didn't shout. He stepped into the living room like a ghost, his silhouette tall and jagged against the floor-to-ceiling windows. He didn't have a flashlight. He didn't need one. This was his cage; he knew every inch of the bars. ​"I told you I'd break it," I whispered into the dark. ​Dante stopped. I could hear his steady, rhythmic breathing. It didn't speed up. It didn't falter. He walked toward me, the heavy thud of his boots vibrating through the floorboards.