Sounds Like Titanic Mga Nobela at Kwento

Nyssa. The sound of it nearly unmade me. A handle I was not meant to hold. Nyssa. The hiss of it belonged in my mouth, a serpent coiled on my tongue. The syllables tasted like iron, as if spoken through the veil of a vow I had not agreed to make. Her friend said it again, brighter this time: “Nyssa!” Nyssa's laughter followed, shaking her shoulders. Worse than blood, that laugh. Worse than thirst. It was a pulse I could not drink. It told me someone else made her heart stumble and I was not permitted even to speak of it.

Cassian shouted over the noise. I nodded and He lifted me to my feed. My legs shook but held. The enchanted hush that had ensnared me was gone, and sound rushed in on the quays: steel against steel. Screaming. The groan and crack of breaking stone. And underlying everything, a sound like breath. Flooding, throbbing and impossible vast.

I followed some students to the auditorium and I was happy to see that I'd not missed much but the auditorium was almost full so I quickly found a seat closer to the front - bribed the man with a few bucks and took his seat. It was a series of plays - Othello, Romeo and Juliet and the last one... Sound of Music?. I scoffed as I wondered how they'd pull that off and it seemed as if it was a Georgina Sebastiani that would play the character of Liesl. "The Princess." I muttered. "Can't wait to see that."

The third day I destroyed the side table and every picture on each wall. The only thing left standing in the room was my desk and chair. I could feel something stirring in the back of my mind. Titan had been silent for days now, unable to handle losing his mate. I sat frozen in place when her soft voice ran through my head. "Killian?" Her frantic yet angelic voice ran through my head, "Killian!" She sounded far away. Titan sprang to life at her words, clawing and growling at the edges of my mind.

“Tootsy-wootsy?” “No.” Titus shook his head. “Too childish. You can do better.” This time around, Candice looked him deep in the eyes, and then said, “Okay. So what do you think 'bout Obim?” “Kai.” Titus' face lit up at that. “I love it, angel. The way you pronounced it sef is enough to make a man release in his pants.” Candice laughed. “You are not serious o,” she rolled her eyes as Titus playfully kissed her soft, left cheek. “Nawa o. You didn't even offer me a seat sef. How ungentlemanly of you, Obim.”

​The Sound of Un-Writing ​The first thing Leo Vane noticed wasn't the height of the wave or the glow of the Alpha-1.0’s eyes. It was the silence. The "Universal-Link," the constant, comforting hum of seven billion minds synchronized into a single symphony of progress, didn't just break, it curdled. It was the sound of a violin string snapping under too much tension, followed by a hollow, ringing void.

Just waves of nothing. But sometimes—only sometimes—sound leaks in. Not clearly. It’s like I’m under water, or behind glass too thick to break. A woman’s voice, trembling. Maybe crying. Maybe calling. Muffled sobs. The wail of grief. The shrill, steady beep of a machine I can’t see. And sometimes… I think I hear my name. Ethan. It brushes past me like wind I can’t catch. I try to move toward it. I try to move at all.

“What does the rip in everything sound like?” “Probably like something tearing,” I grumbled as I packed salted meat and hardtack into a bag. “Use your imagination. Save us the trip.” “It’s not the same,” he said, with the certainty of the truly obsessed. “The memory of a sound is a ghost. I need the real phantom.”

It's the final countdown BADA BAM BAM BADA BAMBAMBAM The final countdown It sounded like a huge choir had joined in, one with a terrible case of industrial laryngitis. The walls really shook now as the earth itself objected to being forced to listen to a shitty soft rock classic. I’m pretty sure I even saw a couple of slimes turn around and go back the other way. I almost lost my footing as the ground gagged on cheeseball Euro rock. Luckily, these tunnels were solidly built, and only a little dust and dirt fell. My soul, however, was permanently damaged.

"Human satellites can see us. They can see the Capital. They can see the Moon-steel mines." Before Dante could process the full weight of it, a deafening unnatural sound slammed into the afternoon, breaking everything open. It wasn’t the roar of a Lycan, and it wasn’t the boom of an iron cannon. It was a heavy rhythmic, rhythmic thwup-thwup-thwup—like massive modern rotary blades slicing through the air, too close, too focused. Dante and I bolted for the balcony.