Soundless Book Novels & Stories

he weakly uttered as he sniffled softly. Kelvin pulled the birthday boy into a hug. "You're welcome. You're happy, right?" Kinsley nodded vigorously in response. "Good." The older boy chuckled. From a distance, by one of the windows of the school building, someone is gritting his teeth. "Tsk. He's too happy and crying over an effing phone,” he muttered. * * * "The great deaf is here!" One young werewolf announced as Kinsley entered a large room for the monthly meeting of the aspiring hunters, trackers, and warriors, even healers of the pack. The pack members in this group are ages twelve to seventeen, who will soon be given their rank.

~15 years ago~ A little guy at the age of 5 was busy reading a book under an old tree but still stood tall and look Almighty. His low grade cheap glasses make a silent noise whenever he turned his head to look at the next page. He reads very quietly that if one make a slightest noise around him, that noise will be transferred through his ears, like the light footstep at the back of the tree he was currently reading his psychological book in and that was heading its ways to him.

⸻ The ballroom shimmered under golden chandeliers, each crystal dangling like a captured star. The sound of polite laughter and whispered gossip swirled around the space, a carefully orchestrated symphony of wealth and influence. Damien moved through it as if the room itself had been built around him. Every step was deliberate, every gesture measured, every smile precise. To the untrained eye, he was perfection incarnate: the Alpha, untouchable, magnetic, and commanding.

“Guys! Do you want me to leave? You can do this all day by yourselves. I think you got it covered. You don’t need me here.” They stopped talking at once. We ate in silence for the first five minutes. Then Chaise asked, “How’s your Lit paper going?” “Practically writing itself,” I replied. Denise groaned. “I haven’t even started mine.” Our teacher asked us to write a review of the bestsellers tackling the controversies in religion. I already picked out The Da Vinci Code. I have read that book about a thousand times. Chaise and Denise both said they were lost. They hadn’t even chosen a book to review yet.

I commanded, my voice echoing with a resonance that was not entirely my own. ​The iron bolts groaned, a sound like a giant waking from a long slumber. The door swung open slowly, revealing a chamber filled with a soft, ethereal glow. Thousands of scrolls were tucked into honeycomb shelves that reached into the darkness above, and in the center stood a pedestal made of pure obsidian. On it sat the book, bound in skin that shimmered like a raven’s wing. ​"The Book of Shadows," Lila whispered, her torch flickering as if the room itself were trying to snuff it out. "It actually exists."

The volume still sat there, tucked like a secret between louder voices, its silver letters catching only the faintest glimmer from the hearthlight. I let the silence breathe for a heartbeat longer, then said quietly, “Professor… the book I nearly touched. The Quiet Cull.” My voice felt out of place in the room, too soft and too mortal. “What is it about?” He didn’t answer immediately. His head tipped just slightly to one side, the faintest narrowing of his eyes suggesting either amusement or irritation—though with him, it was always impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. He shifted back against the leather of his chair, fingers still steepled loosely before his lips, and reg

At the DeLuca Family banquet announcing its new advisor, Matteo said he was going to end nine years of secrecy and finally acknowledge our relationship in public. I stood in the back row of the banquet hall, so nervous I'd crumpled my prepared speech into a ball. Over nine years, I'd cleaned up the port books for him three times, negotiated two cross-border shipping routes, and taken a bullet for him. Everyone knew the DeLuca Family had a female advisor who never showed her face, but no one knew I was that woman. I thought that after tonight, I would finally stop being his shadow. Until the screen at the front of the banquet hall lit up. There was no photo of us. Instead, there was only a si

A little whisper of an echo darting through the darkness. Both of us tensed, our wolves alert and ears scanning for any trace of sound. Staying quiet was one of the lines in the poem, but we had no other way to communicate. Quiet did not mean silent, and I wondered if we might get away with lowering our voices. A musty smell wafted through the shelves; it smelled of dust, bones, and dry leather. It wasn’t the most disgusting thing I had smelled, but was bad enough to make Helena and I wrinkle our noses. I pointed towards the unending rows of bookshelves.

A ferocious roar filled his ears, seemed to fill up the whole world, and he could feel the vibrations as the panther gave chase. As he started down the stairs, he tried to kick the door closed behind him but he also didn’t want to pause even for a second, and he didn’t think his kick was forceful enough to get the door closed all the way. He picked up his speed, nearly tumbling down the stairs, sure that he could feel the breath of the animal on his neck. He raced to the closest bookshelf, full of hardback volumes by Stephen King. Hoping to buy himself a little more time, he grabbed one of the thicker books—Bag of Bones—and hurled it toward the stairs just as the panther came into the librar

The studio, usually bustling with activity, felt different today, as if it were holding its breath, waiting for something to unfold. Franc stood by the Letters That Waited shelf, fingertips tracing the titles like counting breaths. Each book was a story, a moment captured in time, waiting to be rediscovered. Ren was nearby, calibrating the sound loop with meticulous care. Today’s audio was different—layered silence. No voices. Just bamboo creaks, the brush of wind, and heartbeat pulses barely audible, a symphony of nature’s whispers. “I call it ‘Stayed Still,’” she said, her voice soft yet resonant, as if the words themselves were part of the soundscape.