The Quiet Earth Novel Novels & Stories

Water traced delicate paths down the glass panes, catching the lanternlight in glints that almost looked like gold. Elara’s fingers tightened around the strap of her satchel. She had expected triumph — some swelling moment of vindication. But all she felt was… stillness. And exhaustion. “Do you hear that?” she whispered. Lena tilted her head. “The rain?” “It’s quiet,” Elara said. “The city hasn’t been this quiet since…” She stopped. Since before Cassidy had devoured it with whispers. Lena placed a hand gently on her arm. “This is what happens when noise collapses. When fear starts to lose its echo. It gets quiet.”

Outside, the borderland afternoon was tipping toward evening. Somewhere in a packhouse of stone and cold ambition a man who had looked at silence and called it surrender was about to discover that the quietest people build the loudest cases.

Justin remained staring out at the blackened sky from the window. He hadn't spoken to me for some time seemingly content to stand in silence. Emma left for her shift a while ago to prepare breakfast for the morning meal. She wouldn't be back for some time. The stars flickered through the curtains dotting the ceiling in starlight. The snow capped mountains beyond stood proud and ominously against the star flecked sky. “Goodnight Val.” Justin eventually murmured heading for the door.

Zylia’s POV The world was quiet when I woke. Too quiet. The kind of silence that breathes against your skin, heavy, waiting. My fingers curled around damp earth, cold and slick, grounding me in a place that didn’t feel real. The trees stretched endlessly, frozen mid-sway as though the wind had forgotten how to move. There were no birds, no rustle of leaves, no sound at all. Only my own heartbeat, loud and uneven. My throat ached when I called out, “Mason?”

She is married and has one child. Her hobbies include kayaking, crafting and of course, writing novels. House of Quiet Screams is her debut novel, loosely based on true events and written to give voice to the silence many carry. Dedications For every woman who was told to stay silent. For those still living in quiet screams—you are not alone. For Daylen Bradley Harbin, My first true miracle— You made me a mother, and in doing so, gave my life deeper meaning. Your light, your spirit, and your love inspire me to be stronger, braver, and better every single day.

Shivering, I popped the cap off the bottle and tipped one pill into my palm. Tears hit my barely-there bump. "Mommy's such an idiot," I whispered. "I'm sorry, babies." Then—movement. Soft. Real. Like tiny hands knocking from the inside. They were there. They'd been there all along. My eyes snapped open. My hand shook. The pill slipped and hit the ground. A voice in my head: 'Isabella, you can't die. You're not alone anymore.' I ditched the stupid idea and drove back.

" Shiloh paused. She looked Manuel straight in the eyes, a faint smile on her lips. "Want me to keep going?" Manuel went pale, but he still tried to defend himself. "It's not what you think. Rainee's always been timid. She's scared of the dark. Thunder terrifies her. Whenever there was a storm, she'd grab her stuffed bunny and come to my room. "After all these years, sleeping next to her on rainy nights just became a habit. That doesn't mean I loved her..."

The panic eases, piece by piece, until her body goes slack against her mother’s chest. Quiet returns. On the surface, the outcome is perfect. But Elia doesn’t sleep. She lies still, staring at the ceiling, fingers clutching the edge of the blanket as if anchoring herself to the world. When her mother asks what’s wrong, her voice is barely a whisper. “It stopped.” Her mother smooths her hair. “What stopped, baby?” “The quiet,” Elia says. “It didn’t finish.” That’s the moment Riven notices. Not the scream — those happen sometimes, even now.

There would be no quiet exits. By morning, Naomi stood on the balcony overlooking La Rivera, the city stretching out before her. The fear had not vanished entirely, but it no longer owned her. Elena joined her, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “You’re safe,” she said. Naomi nodded. “And stronger.” Below them, La Rivera opened its doors once more. Unshaken. Unclaimed. Unbroken. And for the first time since the shadows had crept in, Elena allowed herself to believe, not just in survival, but in peace.

Elizabeth woke slowly, the quiet pressing in like a blanket woven from shadows and stone. No echoes of the fever haunted her now, just this enveloping stillness that cradled her body. She lay on her side, the cool earth beneath a thin layer of fabric grounding her, while warmth bloomed against her back. Arms encircled her waist, solid and unyielding, a presence that had settled into her space without demand. She inhaled deeply, the air cool and laced with a scent that stirred something deep—earthy, like damp rock kissed by distant thunder, mingled with a faint, clean sharpness.