The Silence Review Novels & Stories

we walk the rest of the time in silence and say hi once we get to the bench. "This is Chad, Fate, Gus, and Gerald," Christoffer introduces them pointing at each of them, "This is Cyrus and you already know Nathaniel," he introduces us too, "Hey," they say in unison, "Hi," Nathaniel and I say at the same time, "Why are we here?" I ask looking directly at Christoffer, "We need to expose the Silent Man,"

"With cameras on every corner, Charles won't be able to hide for long. He's bound to be caught any minute now." Olivia had barely hung up when a loud knock rattled my door. I did not bother opening it. Instead, I peered through the digital peephole and saw the unmistakable silhouette. "Charles, I can see you out there. Don't mess up again. Turn yourself in, and maybe you can get a second chance," I called out. The knocking grew fiercer as Charles heard me. He was cursing up a storm, but I tuned him out, still pushing for him to give up.

The basement was cold, damp, and oppressive. Stephen brought me only one meal a day. At first, I was utterly terrified, so frightened that I forced my eyes open wide in the darkness, straining to see anything. When a rat scurried by, my heart pounded uncontrollably. As a mute, however, no matter how terrified I was, I couldn't make a sound. All I could do was curl up against the wall, clutching myself tightly and trembling as fear consumed me.

Eleven: Silence Cecilia POV I woke to the kind of silence that feels too heavy, like the house itself was holding its breath. Sunlight slanted through the curtains in my room, painting stripes across the duvet, but there was no clatter from the kitchen, no sizzle of bacon or the rich aroma of coffee brewing. It was more than just quiet; it was a stillness that settled in my chest, cold and strange.

It still beats. Léo orders wine, water, bread. His gestures are slow, precise. He watches the waiter with strange attention, as if studying the ritual of an unknown tribe. When we are alone again, he pours the water into our glasses. The splashing of the liquid is a pure, simple note. "What are you thinking about?" I ask, taking my glass. "About the silence," he says. "The silence after. Did you notice? The silence is never the same. The one earlier, in the studio, was thick, charged. Like a layer. The one here… it is soft. It welcomes."

Chapter 12 The silence did not feel normal. At first, Aria thought it would be easier. No messages. No control. No voice on her phone. Just peace. But it did not feel like peace. It felt empty. Too quiet. Too still. Like something was missing. She sat on her bed, staring at her phone again. Nothing. No new messages since last night. Since— “Now it is just you and me.” Her chest tightened. She dropped the phone on the bed as if it burned her hand. “This is good,” she whispered to herself. “This is what you wanted.”

Matteo’s POV There are two kinds of silence in this world. The kind that comforts, and the kind that condemns. Tonight’s silence wrapped around us like a noose. We sat in the safehouse’s living room,Franca, Raven, Elias, and me. The TV was on, playing some old European film in black and white. Nobody was watching and none of us had touched the popcorn. Elias had drawn a series of knots in his sketchpad, each one tighter than the last.

Chapter 18: Collateral Damage POV: Jamie The silence at Black + Lane was louder than shouting. It wasn’t the productive hush of a team deep in flow, or the respectful quiet of professionals respecting boundaries. This was something heavier—thick, deliberate, the kind of silence that wrapped around you like smoke from a fire you hadn’t started but everyone assumed you’d lit. It clung. It followed.

There was a gravity about him, something that both unsettled and fascinated her. “You’re different from the boss,” she murmured after a while. She didn’t even realise she had said that aloud, until she heard her own voice again. “He speaks, people obey. He fills the air. But you… you let silence do the work.” Nico's hand froze over the control. His icy gaze flicked to her for the briefest moment, before returning to the footage. “Noise gets in the way. It's too tiring.” “Silence can, too,” she countered softly. “It makes people nervous. Wonder what you’re hiding.”

"You know Russian roulette. Seven chambers. One bullet. We take turns. Three pulls each. If we're both alive after six, I'll forgive you." Manuel went still. "Do you really have to be this cold?" "Yeah." Her voice didn't shift. "As long as I'm alive, I can't forgive you. So we leave it to fate. If we both make it, maybe that means I should." "Fine." Manuel clenched his jaw. "Then fate gets to decide." He snatched the revolver off the table, pressed it to his temple, and pulled the trigger. Click. Empty. Shiloh's turn.