The Static That Speaks My Name Novels & Stories

There is no answer to the question Why you matter There is no one like you If there is a morning to come I wish I could hear you again, hear you I can only see your smile Stay in the room There is no one like you Be who they are You are the sun in the rainy season And on my cloudy morning There is no answer to the question Why you matter There is no one like you There is no answer to the question Why you matter There is no one like you Be who they are There is no answer to the question Why you matter There is no one like you Be who they are There is no one like you Be who they are Just like Rolling in the Deep, Sila ended quickly, Annie who’s about to dance doesn’t come out also so we went s

“You’re talking around it.” “I’m talking about what’s in front of me.” “No. You’re protecting the shape of the thing without naming it. You do this every time. You start sentences and then sand the edges off until there’s nothing left that could be used against him.” Maya folded the sweater and set it in the open suitcase. “When you’re ready to stop protecting those animals—when you’re ready to say the actual words instead of the safe version—you dial my number. Until then I don’t have the energy to translate.”

Almost beneath my own hearing. "My name is Lyra." Nothing. I felt foolish saying it the first time, like a child whispering into a tin-can telephone strung between two windows, trusting a string that probably wasn't even taut enough to carry sound. But the alternative was silence, and I had already had more silence in this cell than I'd had in my entire life combined, and silence had stopped feeling like peace days ago. It felt like erosion. "Lyra Hale," I tried again. Still nothing.

Even in the middle of war— That silence felt loud. “That’s not possible,” Sol said immediately. “I know,” I snapped. Then softer— “But he did.” My shadows shifted uneasily around my feet. Restless. Alert. “He spoke to me,” I added. That— That made Sol move. He stepped closer. Closer than before. His hand finding mine again. “What did he say?” I swallowed. “My name.” The word hung between us. Heavy. Wrong. Sol’s expression darkened. Not fear.

Because I am removing something invisible. The performance. The act. The role. I wash my hands longer than necessary. Long enough to feel clean again. I stare at the water running over my skin. Steady. Controlled. Just like me. “They always talk too much,” I whisper. The words come out before I can stop them. But they are true. Men always talk too much. They underestimate silence. They mistake quiet for weakness. They mistake stillness for ignorance. They mistake me. And that is their mistake.

I stuttered, my voice barely coming out as I slowly backed away from Kaden, my heart racing. " Oh, this?" Kaden’s voice held a note of pride as he reached out to stroke the creature’s head. " This is my spirit animal, Luka." My breath caught in my throat. If that thing was an extension of him, then I definitely didn’t want to mess with either of them. The sheer size of it made my fear spike, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of being completely out of my depth. " So, it’s true, you are the king's mate," Merilla’s voice rang in my mind, cutting through my fear with her calm certainty.

the air between us feels like static— heavy unspoken and watchful. i drop my gaze pretending to be absorbed in rearranging my salad.my heart however betrays me. It beats too fast, too loud.each pulse pushes his words deeper into my head.

--- It would be silent. --- And unstoppable.

But the moment I saw the street name, my heart thudded once, hard, against my ribs. I hit play. At first, there was nothing but background noise. The clink of silver against china. The heavy, wet sound of someone breathing close to a microphone. And then, a voice broke through the static. "To the future," a man’s voice said. It was deep, oily, and full of a boastful kind of energy. "To a world without paper trails and without nosy directors."

“Yes. Always has been.” Th‌e flashlight flickers once mor⁠e be‌fore dying. I’m left in total darkness‌. The hum of the spe‌aker sta‍rts again⁠, low a‌nd di‌storted. Then, through the static: ⁠“…⁠you d‍on’t really kn⁠o‍w w‌ha‌t‌ she is, do you?”‌ Preston’s voice. Calm. Mocking. ‍