Soul Whispers Novels & Stories

Bram, strong and horned with marble veins that flowed like living starlight. Theo, the thoughtful archivist whose presence brought clarity and calm. Nadia, a passionate omega whose energy could awaken joy in the heaviest hearts. The Nexus sang to them of a return to origins. Not as a journey through distance, but as a return to the personal heart of the first bond. They would seek the Whispering Return, the sacred space where the original four souls continued to exist as the quiet foundation of everything. They prepared with open hearts and steady resolve. In the realm of the Song, we felt their call and responded with deep affection.

he whispers, almost indistinct. ****😔****

Susan 's POV: Startled by the vivid dream, I'm abruptly jolted awake. The dampness between my legs serves as a tangible reminder of how my body responds to these forbidden fantasies. I can't shake his face from my mind—those captivating eyes, those lips that brought both pleasures and torment to my senses. "This is sheer madness," I whisper in despair, seeking solace in reciting the Lord's prayer. Waking up repeatedly due to these haunting dreams has become exhausting, and I long for a reprieve.

If I find you, I’ll leave myself, in you somewhere there is my shore. You alone are what I remember. O' my SOUL... _______________________ Since the time I have passed through your door, I have started to laugh freely, You are the most precious gift from God... O' my SOUL... _______________________ The prayers of the heart went beyond the sky, It was then that I got you, O' my SOUL... _______________________ I found my SOUL in you. My world doesn’t exist beyond your arms, keep me here only,

“Why don’t you come? Why won’t you leave? Come with us, be with me.” Their provoking continues as their voices are in a mixed tone of gentle, soft, deep, shallow, strong, and seductive. It’s echoing unto his mind as the voice giggles with the tone of a sinister embrace and a devil’s taunting desire. “I said stop!” Screaming in both pain and anger as the whispers got even worse and more. She finally drops into the middle and points out the fear that she is witnessing, as it is not like the first, nor the what’s next and unto the succeeding ones. Where their giggling tone only means one thing, the desire to be resurrected, yet using a vessel that is old enough, powerful enough, and has the lin

I remained oblivious for several minutes - or a thousand years, there is no telling - before I finally allowed the deafening sound of their whispers into my mind. It is not one this time, but many, and these are not the same as the one that drew me this close to oblivion. The whispers are fingertips clawing their way into the blank slate that is my soul. They are inside me, yet they are all around me, muttering in incoherent spates. It puts my senses on edge. Whenever they speak, they rush throughout my body like the touch of static. I cannot ignore them, but I can only stare into nothing, listening. The voices continue. They do not seem to speak to me, but rather to one another. I do not ev

Without her realizing it, her long-buried grievances seemed to be easing away. Her eyes turned watery. The lyrics were a bunch of simple and straightforward words, yet she found herself completely absorbed in them. "Whisper of the Silence." Danise smiled. "Lovely song, isn't it?" "Whisper... of the Silence?" A glimmer appeared in her lifeless gaze. "Such a beautiful name. Is this your latest work?" "How I wish. It's Kyle." Staring into her eyes, he continued, "He composed it with hopes that it could reach the ears of somebody he misses."

A low, mournful wail that seemed to come from all around them. “What is that?” Sasha asked, her voice trembling. Ethan’s hand shot out, grabbing her arm. “Stay close. Don’t listen to it.” But it was too late. The sound burrowed into her mind, bringing with it flashes of memories she’d tried to bury—her mother’s lifeless eyes, the betrayal of her former pack, the weight of the dagger in her hands. Tears streamed down her face as the whispers grew louder, each one accusing her, taunting her.

Lyra was drowning. Not in water, but in darkness - vast, endless, pressing in from all sides. It clung to her like thick fog, swallowing every breath, every sound, every thought. The silence was oppressive, stretching infinitely, until the first whisper curled through the void. Soft at first. Then another. And another. The whispers layered upon each other, some frantic, others coaxing, all slipping between her fingers like water whenever she tried to grasp their meaning. A language lost to time, a song of secrets too old to understand.

The words—if they can be called words—are in no language I recognize, yet somehow they carry meaning that bypasses my conscious mind and strikes directly at something primal and terrified deep within my soul. The whispers seem to be trying to invade my mind, slipping through the cracks in my mental defenses like smoke through a keyhole. They speak of emptiness and dissolution, of the comfort of surrender and the peace that comes with letting go of the burden of existence. Their voices are seductive in their alien beauty, promising release from the pain of consciousness and the weight of individual identity.