The Silent Corner Novels & Stories

My throat has clogged up. I don’t know what to say to comfort her. Her lips don’t even attempt a smile when she sees me. I say nothing, allowing the silence lengthen until we get in the car. Her words flow like a river once we are inside. “They gave me a pill, it was so small and white.” “I thought you hated pills,” I say. “Not as much as I’d have hated myself if I didn’t take it,” her voice rises as we drive farther away from the clinic, her driver sneaking peeks at the two of us as if we wouldn’t notice.

Silence presses in from all sides. “The lost Nightshade heir, who got missing at Eldenridge.” my vision blurs for a second I think I might throw up. The main locker room door doesn't open, it explodes. The bolts snapping loose hitting all the points in the room, Then terrifying silence, footsteps follow, crunch , crunch, crunch he's walking across broken glass. I press myself deeper into the corner, nails digging into my arms hard enough to leave a crescent shape across my skin. My heart pounds violently against my ribs, too loud and fast.

To have such a power over a person was beyond anyone. The hallways inside were mostly empty. I hated being in an empty hallway. The only sound was my shoes softly tapping against the ground. But at this moment, this silence was comforting. My comfort was short-lived as I heard voices from around the corner. Familiar and grating voices. They were around the corner, close enough that their laughter carried sharply through the corridor. I paused in my step as my chest tightened. I pressed myself against the wall as if to become one with it in order to make myself disappear. The last thing I needed was another confrontation. Not today.

At the DeLuca Family banquet announcing its new advisor, Matteo said he was going to end nine years of secrecy and finally acknowledge our relationship in public. I stood in the back row of the banquet hall, so nervous I'd crumpled my prepared speech into a ball. Over nine years, I'd cleaned up the port books for him three times, negotiated two cross-border shipping routes, and taken a bullet for him. Everyone knew the DeLuca Family had a female advisor who never showed her face, but no one knew I was that woman. I thought that after tonight, I would finally stop being his shadow. Until the screen at the front of the banquet hall lit up. There was no photo of us. Instead, there was only a si

3rd Person. It was silent. The physical distance between Gabbie and Kiel is not even a meter apart but the internal barrier felt like a kilometer long. No one is breaking the silence or even planning to at any moment. They both want to savor the relationship that is at the risk to change with the news that Gabbie is very willing to hide forever but about to spill.

One minute he was on the dance floor, the second he was on a table doing who knows what, another, he was laughing out his guts while hearing the pain in his friends voices. Out of all these blanks, there was one more he had, and that was when he found himself in a corridor he could barely recognize. He could hear the very faint sound of music seeping in, but the quiet that wasn't the loud music trying to burst through his head, and the stable warm light that wasn't the changing one that messed with his sight, made him get a little hold of himself. The corridor was different from the dance floor. Yes, it was quiet with a breath of fresh air, but the difference was how every corner of the corr

Lee knocks once, listens to his earpiece, then pushes it open. And my stomach drops straight into my spine. Silas sits behind a massive desk like some Wish version Bond villain. Kneeling at his feet, head bowed like she's praying to him, is Corinne. She doesn't even flinch when we walk in. Silas's eyes lift—cold and dark like his son's—and sweep over me like I'm meat he's about to devour. I don't look away. Even though I want to. Even though I now have the urge to puke.

The nightlight in the corner had surrendered much of its glow to the coming gray; its dome shone like the last ember in a bowl of ash. The apartment was prepared for threats with teeth. It was not prepared for this kind of silence — domestic, ordinary, the kind that tempts a guard to blink. In the corridor, a shoe scuffed and then didn’t scuff again. Somewhere, a refrigerator compressor took a breath and released it.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t worry.” She offered me a half-smile—supportive, but wary. Adrian led the way, and we slipped away from the noisy cafeteria, moving toward a quiet corner of the building where fewer people passed. The silence between us was heavy and unfamiliar, weighed down by the awkwardness I felt every time we met. We slipped away from the noisy cafeteria, shadows swallowing us in a forgotten corner where silence pressed in like a weight. The air thickened between us, charged with years of resentment, secrets, and words that had long been held back.

Every sob felt like it echoed off the walls, making it sound even louder. After there weren’t any tears left to cry, I stood up from the ground and surveyed the cell. In the right corner, there’s a pile of hay with a blanket on it. I would assume that is the bed, and in the left corner is a metal bucket with a reeking stench coming from it. I approach the bucket with much caution, covering my nose in the prosses. As I peek over the edge of the bucket, I could feel the vomit appearing in the back of my throat. I gagged, and luckily, I didn’t throw up. The bucket is used for a toilet. It is absolutely revolting. How could they just leave it here to rot? They are supposed to dispose of it.