This Thing A Quiet Madness Made Novels & Stories

The familiar sequence — key in the lock, the slight resistance of the door, the sound of her bag hitting the floor. Then Anne herself, stepping in with the exhaustion of someone who had been holding other people together all day. She dropped onto the couch. “Tell me the evening is going to be quiet.” “I made food,” Joy said. “You’re my favourite person.” They ate on the couch. No television. Just the quiet shift into evening. Joy was quieter than usual. “How was your day?” Anne asked. “Quiet. You?” Anne exhaled. “Tiring. One of my clients was having a harder day. Those ones stay with you.”

Madison went 360 especially with her attitude. Since Madison, unlike before that was loud and lazy but still active and focused, changes into a quiet and unattentive. Gavin always sees her dozing off while sitting or looking blankly at her ceiling or any blank spaces. Sometimes, he would just look for her and find her at the veranda where they drank hot chocolate. He’s so worried that he has to look at her from time to time since he doesn't know what Madison is thinking at those moments.

I am a Ghost, I am nobody, because I dream to you. At that moment, Milana was awakened by the ringing of the alarm clock. She was late for work. As soon as Milana was ready, she noticed that an old letter was lying on the threshold of the front door. She must have been walking in her sleep and dropped it on the floor. The letter read: "a voice in silence can only be heard with the heart." The letter came in the mail two years ago from an unknown sender.

~Wren~ It’s not the darkness that will drive me mad, but the silence. The complete void of noise that is so quiet that it’s deafening. My ears ring as I strain to hear anything I can, yet… nothing comes. No one comes. Just like no one stepped up to help me.

Some made notes. Fiona strode to the board and scrawled in big, chalky letters: MADNESS. SILENCE. REBIRTH. She smacked the first word. "Madness is not always screaming," she spoke. "It is the silence you force yourself to put around you like a coat. It is knowing that you cannot break because there is no one else to hold the pieces." She paused. The room was so silent that it became complete stillness. Her own hand, still clutching the chalk, shook. Just as yesterday. But today it was not despair tugging at her—it was the burden of remembering.

Moon asked her. “You’re just as sick as he is! Are you sure you’re not related? Mental illness runs in the family, you know?” Misha said, walking away, heels clacking against the marble floor. Troy sat at the little table in Briar’s room, listening to her playing Four Seasons by some composer or another. When they were alone like this, it was the only time he allowed himself to fantasize that he was her real mate, they were just normal wolves, and he didn’t know what he knew about her, or what her fate was. They could just be two wolves, happy, in love, and free.

I smile, closing my eyes and the next, I feel his warm lips being pressed against my eyelids as he kisses gently. "And I can never get enough of you," he whispers as his breath hits my lips. "Never?" I chuckle, earning his, "Hm." "There must be addiction, intoxication and madness in love." He adds—whispering, holding my waist possessively. "To what extent has this madness compelled you?" I can't help whisper on his lips and frown a bit. "The madness of this love seduced me to such an extent that I found you in my every prayer."

“But as long as she’s not being delusional then of course I’m treating her right.” The chairman just nodded, waving him away. **** Something was strange, Caden thought to himself. Everything was so quiet. The world suddenly stilled as if somebody hit the pause button to let the chaos and noise melt down for a little while. Everything felt dream-like. He was barefoot yet couldn’t feel anything, no tick and no echo of his footsteps. There was nothing but void and Caden was in the middle of it.

The most terrifying thing about an absolute, unwavering silence isn't that it hides your next strategic move; it is that it acts as a perfect, unyielding mirror, forcing your enemy to stand in the quiet until the screaming inside their own paranoid mind drives them to tear off their own mask.

I grumbled. "How can you handle them? They're so quiet, no food, no drinks, surrounded by a bunch of old books and you can't talk properly." Quinn complained. "Quietness isn't necessarily a bad thing, Quinn." I drawled. "You don't have to fill every moment with some kind of sound." "What is wrong with you, woman?" they chimed again. I smacked them both in the arm and pouted. "There's nothing wrong with liking a bit of peace and quiet every now and then."