Unspoken Book Novels & Stories

The Unspoken Harvest was released in July. The cover was minimalist—just a vine curling around a cracked ceramic bowl. The title was embossed in gold. Inside, the words were raw, lyrical, and unapologetic. The literary world responded immediately. “Maria Del Fuego has done it again—but this time, she’s not whispering. She’s roaring.” —Philippine Literary Review “A brave, necessary book that challenges the myth of the graceful woman and redefines what it means to be strong.” —Manila Times

And it’s growing. I saw it with the God of the Squeaky Floorboard. The little pest was whining about its tribute, a pathetic shimmer of power. The Unspoken just… looked at it. And I felt it, a tiny, psychic transaction. The Floorboard god went still, then puffed up, its squeak gaining a new, confident authority. In return, the Unspoken grew denser, more real. It had traded for a secret. The Floorboard’s hidden shame of being so insignificant. It’s a broker. A silent banker dealing in the currency of things unsaid.

Like control wasn’t just taken, it was tested, pushed back on. “Yeah… that didn’t go the way he probably thought it would,” Adam added, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He closed the book slightly, tapping it against his palm as if debating whether to keep going. That lasted about two seconds. “I’m not putting this down,” he said firmly. “Not now.” His curiosity had already locked in. Whatever this book was, whoever wrote it, it wasn’t random. Every line felt intentional. Like more layers were waiting. He glanced around the empty bar again, then back at the book.

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Just sneakers and a light jacket. The city was unusually quiet. I ended up at a small antique bookstore tucked between a florist and a tailor. It had no flashy signage, just a brass bell on the door and a handwritten welcome note in cursive. Inside, the scent of old paper and cedar wrapped around me like a story waiting to be told. I let myself drift between the aisles until a book caught my eye—Letters Never Sent. It was a collection of real, unsent letters from women over the last century. To lost loves, estranged mothers, unborn children.

I whisper. This time, the tears don’t feel like weakness. They feel like healing. Like something finally beginning. ************************ Unspoken Desires - Book 3…. Coming Soon

"Is it good?" "It's devastating." She set it back down. "It's about two people who love each other in a place and time that won't let them. Everyone can see it, and no one will say it out loud. The whole book is just the weight of the thing that can't be spoken." Silence. "Emma." "I'm not making a point," she said. "I'm just telling you about the book." He didn't argue. But she felt him exhale beside her, felt the warmth of it in the cool night air.

I feel as though I have already failed this surreal destiny being laid out in front of me. Desperate for a change of topic, I jumped at the chance to continue our conversation about the night of my 18th Birthday. "Would you mind telling me about this event that happened on my birthday five years ago? I know we didn't get to finish our conversation about it at the restaurant before I lost my cool." "Ah, yes. The Great Shift is what we refer to it as. Did anything strange happen during your first shift that hasn't happened since?" asked Marcus.

The whispers now words saying There is no book as Eidolon coaxed her from day into dream. “But what if I want to talk about it?” she was saying as they sat down and settled in. Purses tucked between their feet. Arms planted on the table, overpriced coffees within reach. Hers smelling of black brewed strong with a splash of milk, Margo’s of fragrant pumpkin spice and too much creamer.

"That’s odd. Is he just shy? Maybe he’s having a hard time adjusting to you being there." I shrug, feeling a bit helpless. "I don’t know. Maria—the housekeeper—told me that he’s always been quiet, especially since his mother passed away. He barely speaks to anyone, except his father. And I didn’t even see Mr. Parker today, so I have no idea how that dynamic works." Nanny raises an eyebrow, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "Ah, Mr. Parker. That’s what I’ve been waiting for. Tell me, how did that encounter go?"