Stolen Tongues Novels & Stories

He couldn't move a single inch. "Let me go, you piece of trash!" Trevor screamed, his voice cracking as he clawed at my wrist. He was painting, sweat dripping down his temple. He turned so red, a tomato's got nothing on him. "You stole her! You stole my life, and you stole my girl!"

Too many eyes and too many tongues had been bought by gold. “We need more people, foreman,” a deep voice cut through the murmuring. It belonged to a rebel in a bark-brown mask. He was one of the original twelve who had started with Thaddeus. “If we are to launch a citywide march and be taken seriously, we need more than the hundred we have here.”

My fingers dug into his collar as I pinned him. He stared at me with hollow, sunken eyes. No fear, no answer. “I’ll let you go if you talk,” I said, my vision tunneling, my head spinning dangerously. Still nothing. I slammed my fist into his face, once, twice, until blood splattered, and his mouth fell open in a silent scream. That’s when I saw it. I froze. There was no tongue, just a butchered stub. A chill slid down my spine. Was he born like that? But no it doesn't seem natural. Someone carved it out, a cruel silence forced upon him? A method to ensure loyalty or eliminate betrayal?

Knowing she could not dally anymore, she shouted, "Okay, okay! I will tell you the real truth now! Just stop!" Laura's dark skin now seemed to sag, weighed down by the crushing burden of her secret. Her grey hair appears dull and lifeless, like a veil of shame cast over her face. Her brown eyes, once warm and loving, now filled with tears, brimming with a deep remorse that threatened to spill over. Her voice trembled, a barely audible whisper, as if the words themselves were toxic, poisoning her very soul. "Tristan, I, I stole you," she stammers, the words hanging in the air like a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down, daring him to confront the truth.

Jude The next morning, I wake with a weight pressing down on my chest. My body feels heavy, but my mind won’t rest. I spent most of the night turning from side to side, haunted by every mistake I have made. Isabel is gone, I threw her out of my life, but even with her out of the picture, peace doesn’t come. Because the truth is, my greatest mistake was not Isabel. It was losing Seline.

Countless scornful looks fell upon me, and my body stiffened. The words I had strung together were lodged fast in my throat. All I wanted was to retrieve my belongings. All I wanted was to say goodbye. "What are you doing here?" Before I had time to recover, Ivor emerged from the villa holding a stuffed toy. It was our token of love from when we were 18. On the day of our engagement, it went missing. I thought it was gone forever.

In those stolen touches, they found solace, a connection that was unspoken yet profoundly felt. And then there were the stolen kisses, moments of vulnerability and desire that they couldn't resist. Their lips would meet in secret, and in those stolen kisses, the world around them would fade away. The taste of each other, the warmth of their breath mingling, it was a stolen indulgence that kept their souls alive amidst the chaos of their lives.

Damon answered, his voice laced with sarcasm and a slight involuntary smile crept in the corner of my lips. His mouth will get him killed faster than I found him. I smirked. "Hey, boy, mind your mouth or else we will throw you into our dungeons and let our pets feast on your tongue." Elder Leon declared with a scowl and my smile faded away immediately. The pets he meant were called Lingua Mortis. This terrifying ancient little beast, was no bigger than a human hand, which possessed an insatiable appetite for all kinds of animal tongues including that of wolves.

It was the guard’s report from the dungeon. The report that said Thalia Thorne had been speaking the first tongue in her sleep. The ancient, forbidden language that no ordinary twenty-two-year-old girl from a random pack should even know existed. My hand subconsciously moved up, my fingers brushing against my chest through the fabric of my coat to make sure the paper was still there. Rowan stopped talking mid-sentence. The old elder blinked his cloudy eyes, staring straight down the table at me. The entire room suddenly went dead silent.

Their feet were glued to the sturdy wooden surface beneath, and all they could do was watch and pray, and not a word could dare a rebel from them. "Where do I begin my day's lecture?" He gave the woman mumbling a scream a deep eeky look, sending every once of liquid in her to ripple. "Yes! Your loud mouth got you into this, so --" He jetted his hand between her lips, into her mouth, crushing her jaw bones. "-- I'll take care of that first." And yanked out her tongue, detaching it. The blood from the wiggling tongue as he lifted it above his head, channelled down, fiercely running to his elbow. He shot his lips over his arm, and ran his tongue with the rails the sprinting red beaded liquid ma