This Thing A Quiet Madness Made Novels & Stories

Monday 5pm I should have known the quiet was just too quiet. That stillness before something bad always carries its own stench, one your body can’t help but recognize even if your brain refuses to admit it. You know the feeling… the one like how animals go quiet just before they scurry away as a disaster hits. How their survival instinct kicks in to save the furry little buggers.

Dellion "Lion" Madrigal The silence inside the grand estate was no longer quiet. It was deafening. It was suffocating. It was driving me into a state of violent, unhinged madness. I stood in the center of Snow’s empty bedroom, my jaw set in an icy, painful clench. The room smelled faintly of her vanilla perfume, but the bed was neatly made, untouched, cold, and hollow.

I couldn’t speak until I was eight years old. Everyone in the Sterling family called me dumb. Even my mother would secretly wipe away tears, convinced she had given birth to an autistic daughter. Whenever my father looked at me, his eyes were filled with nothing but disappointment. However, for the sake of the family’s reputation, he could never bring himself to send me away to a special education school. Then came the day someone from a prominent hedge fund company arrived to acquire our family company, Sterling Group. He was so arrogant that he chewed out everyone in the boardroom until all of them hung their heads low. The room full of corporate executives fell silent, too terrified to

Quiet is not the same as peace. Maya knows this because the base is quiet in at least twelve different unhealthy ways. There is the quiet of people pretending not to talk about her. The quiet of people very much talking about her behind water tanks, curtain walls, laundry lines, and one suspiciously philosophical stack of bean crates. And then there is the quiet Eli Carrasco carries with him. That one is different. That one does not push. Which is, frankly, rude.

14-MAD MEN FOR CINDERELLA The warm breeze gently caressed Nyx's skin, but his body was already burned with the exertion of digging those wretched holes. His jaw clenched tightly as he replayed the mind-numbing task in his head. Suddenly, a forceful shoulder collided with his, causing him to stumble and break from his thoughts.

one of them teased. "Hahaha, we're witnessing history today. If I'm not mistaken, this is the first time she's spoken since coming to this class. Look at her trying to play the quiet beauty. What a voice! No wonder she never talks; she sounds like a duck!"

Madison’s POV --- The Calm Before Precision Madison doesn’t rush. She never has. Rushing creates gaps. Gaps create mistakes. And mistakes— Are what people like Xavier Cortez are waiting for. --- The Silence The apartment is quiet. Deliberately so. No music. No television. No unnecessary noise. Because clarity requires silence. --- Reflection She sits at the edge of the table, her phone resting just within reach. Not in her hand. Not yet. Because acting too soon—

He flipped the light bar off, plunging us back into the grey dimness of the storm. "You're getting good at that," he said, his breathing finally beginning to level out. "At what?" "At the 'Dirty' work," Enzo said. I looked down at the Red Ledger. My knuckles were white where I gripped the leather. I wasn't the "Boring" girl who worked for a tech startup anymore. I was the woman who had just blinded a man so her husband could ram a truck. "It says here... 'The Quiet,'" I read, squinting at the page as a neon sign from a passing liquor store illuminated the text. "What is 'The Quiet'?"

~REIF~ The problem with quiet is that it gives your head room to talk. I’d learned that the hard way. The compound woke up early whether you wanted it to or not. Engines coughing to life. Boots on gravel. Someone yelling about coffee being gone already like it was a personal betrayal. Normal sounds. Good sounds. The kind people thought meant safety. They didn’t hear what I heard underneath. The absence. I wrapped my hands slowly, pulling the cloth tight around my knuckles until my fingers tingled. Not enough to cut off circulation, just enough to feel something. Control. Pressure. A reminder that my hands were still mine.

Like, yes I’m mad about what they just did but I can’t just leave the house? Where am I gonna go? I don’t have a place to stay. Or maybe I'm just thinking too much? She won't drive me away from the house, right? She opened my door harshly and looked at me with madness in her eyes. “M-mom,” I said in a small voice. She is still staring at me sharply. Like a lion looking at its prey. Mom is really scary when mad. “M-mom, you can’t expect me to just accept your decisions especially that my future is at stake.” I reasoned out. I didn’t mean to shout at them. To argue with them, I was just blinded by my feelings that is full of hatred.