The Quiet Earth Novel Novels & Stories

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.

Just a thought. A very quiet one.

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.

Katie mumbled. Sally and those who had problems back on Earth weren’t the only ones I was concerned about. The townsfolk in Rockflower, that restaurant owner in War’s End, my other friends back in New Beginning City, and the people we met during our journey here. Memories of their happy faces flashed in my head, remembering their daily lives in peace. I clenched my fists on my lap, understanding why this world was a paradise for them.

(E‌lara's POV) The q‍uiet in t‌he house w‌as the worst part. It‌ w⁠asn’t pea‍cefu‌l. It‍ w‍as⁠ the kind of quiet where you could hear‍ every little so⁠und, and ever‍y sound was wrong. Th‌e hum of the fridge. The t‍ick of the clock in the hall. My own breathing.‌

I couldn’t speak until I was eight years old. Everyone in the Sterling family called me dumb. Even my mother would secretly wipe away tears, convinced she had given birth to an autistic daughter. Whenever my father looked at me, his eyes were filled with nothing but disappointment. However, for the sake of the family’s reputation, he could never bring himself to send me away to a special education school. Then came the day someone from a prominent hedge fund company arrived to acquire our family company, Sterling Group. He was so arrogant that he chewed out everyone in the boardroom until all of them hung their heads low. The room full of corporate executives fell silent, too terrified to