Silo Novels & Stories

By the light coming from up above, Skylar saw the glistening edge of something inside the hole. A rumble escaped his throat when he realized the hole in the ground itself was a form of trap. Any unsuspecting animal, running at full speed then falling in here would surely get their leg slashed. The bigger the animal, the more damage it would leave. And werewolves in their wolf form were much bigger.

He kept his eyes on the road, his expression unreadable. Silence grasped its fangs around us. The atmosphere becomes heavy and awkward, I can't help feeling uncomfortable. "So where?" He asked, cutting through the eerie silence that was becoming unbearable with each passing time. "Anywhere is okay with me" I answered, not knowing where to say. I hardly know any places out there. Noah didn't respond and we were met with more silence. I turned my attention to the tinted window to the road which was empty except for some cars passing by.

replied Malia at length. It's quiet. Archie and Gabe exchanged glances, they were still confused and seemed to doubt everything Malia had to say. Malia sighed helplessly. "A long time ago ... I had a good friend. She is just like your best friends, Lyla. She has a witch ancestor. She will get that inherited power when she turns eighteen years old." Malia paused. Hastily, Malia took out a pink drinking bottle from her bag, sipping the contents until they run out, there's nothing left.

Every sob felt like it echoed off the walls, making it sound even louder. After there weren’t any tears left to cry, I stood up from the ground and surveyed the cell. In the right corner, there’s a pile of hay with a blanket on it. I would assume that is the bed, and in the left corner is a metal bucket with a reeking stench coming from it. I approach the bucket with much caution, covering my nose in the prosses. As I peek over the edge of the bucket, I could feel the vomit appearing in the back of my throat. I gagged, and luckily, I didn’t throw up. The bucket is used for a toilet. It is absolutely revolting. How could they just leave it here to rot? They are supposed to dispose of it.

No more words needed. This was real.

The vertical supports were bowing outward, the old mounting bolts screeching as they tore loose from the damp concrete wall. "You can't change the ending, Silas," Sebastian called up through the dark, his voice slightly breathless now but losing none of its structural density. "The script was settled when Stacy hit the return key. You're just a dead letter that hasn't been sorted yet." Silas struck the lock one final time. The brass shackle sheared with a sharp ping, and the massive, four-ton iron conveyor assembly swung loose from its moorings, its rusty counterweights dropping through the center of the silo with a low, hydraulic groan that vibrated through t

"You did a good thing tonight. Silas's men used to do worse, and nobody ever hit them back." "Good things don't fill stomachs," I said. "We're going to be short on bread by Tuesday." The old man leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low hiss. "Silas was a paranoid dog. He didn't trust the main granaries either. There’s a space, deep under the old ventilation shafts. He called it his 'insurance.' Only the lifters knew it existed, and most of them are dead. But I remember where the doors are."

There was a dragon tattooed down his whole back. Looked so lifelike. I was half expecting it to start moving. My eyes trailed further down to his lower back, where the letters S.I.X were inscribed. So wait six isn't actually a number, but an acronym? He turned slightly, enough for me to get a view of his front, but not for him to see me standing there.