Unspeakable Novels & Stories

Not even from a text or a call, just nothing. “Anthony Hincks once said, as angry as the sky looks, it's still full of the colors of love.” a voice from behind me said, I turned to look at him. He was carrying two glasses of Piña Colada on both his hands. “The sand has nothing to do with your anger, so stop heaping your anger on it.” he said, it was then on that I realized that I was grabbing the sand. I gave him a shy smile before rubbing mt hands unto my pants.

“No. I’m sorry Kris. This is all true… and she still hasn’t woken up.” ***

A node of sentiment in his perfect machine. While Mimi engaged Bryce, her voice steady, debating the philosophy of legacy, pulling his brilliant, broken mind into a logical duel, William moved. It wasn’t a calculated strategy, it was a desperate, instinctual lunge. He swept his arm across the glass desk, not at Bryce, but at the photo and its pad. The frame sailed through the air, smashing against the concrete floor. Glass exploded. The charging pad sparked and died. Bryce’s lecture cut off. A raw, animal sound tore from his throat. “CLARA!”

Fuck. XXX

This is will be your ending once you tell others what you should not! These messages flashed right after the video displayed how an unrecognizable mess turned into a pile of ashes. The video actually had no sound whatsoever, as obviously, the system had muted it. Nonetheless, it was easy to tell how this bloody thing should be an immoral host that had violated the terms. This pig probably shouted some forbidden words in front of other people, thus angering the system.

The Unspeakable casted again the detector. "The black book. The rest is clear." He pointed at a worn leather bound black thin book. The first Unspeakable, who was wearing the blue leather gloves, cautiously picked the thin black book. "'T. M. Riddle'. It seems to be a diary of sorts." She cautiously drops the black diary in the middle of the room, on top of a quickly conjured desk. The other Unspeakable then starts to cast diagnose spells at it. Erik cocks his head to the side and says.

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

Raw data flooded the screen: timestamps, audio spectrums, encrypted surveillance. Slipping on noise-canceling headphones, she played the first audio file. Static. Then, her mother’s distorted but unmistakable voice: “If anyone hears this... remember me. I am not a shadow. I am not your project.” Isabella froze, hands trembling. The clip was layered, her mother’s voice beneath subliminal commands: “You will forget. You will comply. You are safe. You are nothing.” This was the Echo Protocol, raw, violent, stripped of pretense—mental warfare, not therapy.

I mumble something in the most terrifying hoarse voice. ==================================================================

Only the motion of lips a silent phrase. Kaima’s expression darkened. “It’s a remnant of her last thought. She wanted to say something before she vanished… something Iluren caught, but never finished.” Ari’s heart quickened. “Can we read it?” Kaima shook her head. “Not yet. The Unspoken only reveal themselves when the world needs to remember.” Siran sighed. “Then I hope the world’s ready soon.”