The Whisperman Novels & Stories

"Across seventeen dimensions, your story is told. The human who became prison. Who chose daughter over species. Who built peace from war. You are—are inspiration to billions." I felt uncomfortable. "I'm really not—" "You are," Whisper insisted. "Whether you accept it or not. Your choices echo across realities. Your example changes civilizations. You are—are more than you know." By evening, word had spread. The Rusty Spike was full. Everyone wanting to see the dimensional tourist. Everyone curious. Whisper sat calmly in corner. Observing everything. Taking notes—somehow—without visible writing instruments. Grace arrived home from school. Saw Whisper. Lit up.

He didn't even have the mindspace to work. I had chosen to leave and had taken great care to wipe all traces of me in the system. As a result, William couldn't find out where I had gone. … Days passed William by like they always did. It was dull, monotonous, and filled with work. He came home groggy and dazed, but then a familiar scent hit him. His heart skipped a beat, and he immediately charged into the dining room. He was so desperate that he didn't even change into his indoor shoes.

Without her realizing it, her long-buried grievances seemed to be easing away. Her eyes turned watery. The lyrics were a bunch of simple and straightforward words, yet she found herself completely absorbed in them. "Whisper of the Silence." Danise smiled. "Lovely song, isn't it?" "Whisper... of the Silence?" A glimmer appeared in her lifeless gaze. "Such a beautiful name. Is this your latest work?" "How I wish. It's Kyle." Staring into her eyes, he continued, "He composed it with hopes that it could reach the ears of somebody he misses."

I opened my mouth in warning but was too late. “Surprise.” He whispered in her ear. She froze making to burn him when he hit her over the head. I watched in horror as she crumbled to the floor. I stuffled in a scream my heart dropping. The man stepped around her as though a piece of furniture. “I have been searching for people like you.” He said softly tilting his head my way. If I hadn't seen him murder people a few minutes ago. I would actually think he was decent. Now I knew they were all honey-coated words. “Shame that you suck at first impressions then.” I spat a curse after pointing out the obvious.

Times passes and the barking has now stopped, the only thing I hear is silence, just as I had started to give up hope a small sound of what I think was steal hitting rocks echo’s around me then slowly I start to see sparks of light until it blinds me. “WE FOUND HER” comes a strong male voice in the distance, After god only knows how long i take a deep breath of the cold winter air, blinking a few times to adjust to the light that blinds my eyes i see that I'm in a hole, a very deep hole in the cold wet ground. I reach my hand up to the heavens then slowly pull my sore body from the mud tell in standing in to hole with a clear sight of my surroundings, I’m standing in a deep hole in the middl

Sarah asks with a smirk. "This is not a joke, Sarah. But I am relieved it wasn't Austin who took that away. But I don't even know who this guy is," Ruth asks, concerned. "I don't know," I sigh, desperately trying to hold back my tears. Sarah, Ruth, and I head to Club Knight with a mission to uncover the identity of our mystery man. Sarah and Ruth assure me that the club keeps strict records of their customers. "No one goes unnoticed," they say. "Excuse me, we have a bit of a situation here," Ruth addresses the bartender on duty amidst the pulsating atmosphere of the club.

“ Meara!” The whispers started again, soft but notable. I tensed, my eyes snapping open. I scanned the field, but there was no one in sight. The sound seemed to come from the tree itself, from the rustling of its leaves. I pressed my palms against the rough bark and closed my eyes, focusing on the whispers. " Come... find... me..." The words were faint but distinct. My heart raced. Was I losing my mind, or was there something more to these whispers? I stood up, brushing the dirt off my jeans, and took a few steps back. The whispers grew louder, more insistent.

I fumbled for a tissue in my pocket, wiping away the tears that streamed down my cheeks. "I know you can, Tyra." His voice, though faint, held a quiet confidence. Then, through the swirling mist of my tears, I saw him. A silhouette against the dying light, his figure barely discernible, yet somehow radiating a warmth that pierced the chill of the forest.

only to choke on it. Not when his tears weren’t for me. Not when the only place I ever felt wanted was in a dream I was never meant to live. I pressed my palm to my chest, right over my heart. “Please,” I whispered to no one. “Just let me be enough. Just once.” But the silence that answered? It sounded an awful lot like never.

The intern trailed behind her, enthusiastically saying, "Mr. Coleman sponsored the exhibition, and it'll soon kick off a nationwide tour." Emma found herself staring at a painting of a shirtless man from behind. His toned physique might be captivating, but what really grabbed her attention was the distinctive scar right above his waist. She had traced the outline of the scar countless times in the dark. Of course, she knew exactly who the man in the painting was. Sandra had made portrait after portrait of Wesley. The dates in the corner were clear as day and hard to look at.