Voice In The Wind Book Novels & Stories

I'd lost count of how many. I didn't scream, though. A small victory. But I was close. Then, it came again, "Just let me in" It wasn't Apollo's voice anymore. It was low, velvet-smooth. It crawled through the back of my mind like a snake made of shadows. "You don't have to put up with this. You don't have to sit and wait like a damsel," it said, and I clenched my jaw, but my limbs trembled, and the chains gently clinked like a soft melody.

Maybe, just like that day, brighter days awaited her post-divorce. … Back at the villa, the hall was deserted. From upstairs, Colton's gentle voice floated down. "The Little Prince met a fox..." He was spinning tales for Janice's unborn child. Whitney's mind was a foggy mess as she dove under the covers, desperate for sleep. She had no idea how long she had been out when her throat scorched with dryness. "Water..." She croaked more than once, but the only response was the drone of a story being told in the room next door.

With my feet marginally sideways and my knees slightly bent with my hands raised sufficiently with elbows down, I tucked my chin in a protective posture. A rumbling gust of wind whirled around us to hurl the dust of the coarse-grained sand into my eyes. My open palms shielded my face as the grittiness in my eyes blinded me. Wind. Her element was the wind. I deciphered that she must have been one of the voices that I had heard at Pyne Falls High School when the vortex appeared. Lowering my head, my eyes blinked furiously as the natural water in them tried to flush out the particles.

She closed her eyes and whispered back to the wind, “Then let the world believe.” The wind carried her voice away. And far beyond the city walls, through valleys and forests and the frozen roads of the north, the echo of those words followed the messengers on their way to the mountains.

Gemma let herself inhale deeply, savoring the moment, the delicate tension, the infinite possibilities. And somewhere, in the hum of the cicadas, the creak of the porch boards, and the gentle stir of the wind, Gemma whispered to her self, a quiet, reverent acknowledgment of what the night had become: “This is where the summer wind blows.”

“It’s over, Khalid, your men are dead. Hand the kid over.” Slater’s voice came over the comms. “Wind is screwing with accuracy. No shot.” “Get out of my way or the boy is dead!” “You’d kill your own son?” Max shouted over the wind. “If I have to, he’ll be a casualty of war, and I will be in Jannah.” Max doubted the terrorist would grace the pearly gates in any realm after the atrocities he’d caused. “Murdering your child won’t get you there.” The fucker wouldn’t stop moving, and sand whipped at open skin. Gabe squeezed his eyes shut against the blustery assault and started to cry.

"You are doing it! The winds around the house are calming." I breathe out a sigh of relief. Whatever I am doing is working, but I still don't know what that is yet. Then I remembered what the voice said. I am not meant to control the wind, but I do know what I can control. Fire. I let the fire that is tingling at my fingertips free. The wind catches the flames on my hands and swirls around me.

The voice called again, louder this time. “Who are you?” He asked boldly, “Show yourself.” He hissed. The wind blew and formed a circle in front of him. The wind continues to move in a circular motion, aggressively. Fast and unfriendly. The wind reflected the moon from the sky. And it came to a halt almost immediately. “It is I.” The voice came from within the frozen wind. A manly voice, deep and low. Papa Ganda fell on his face, “Moon goddess.” “Why are you sending Nyssa packing?” The voice asked.

My wife Naomi Holden's phone was always on silent mode. Whenever I needed to reach her, the call never went through. My only option was to ask everyone around us, but when every single person gave a different answer, I already knew the truth. She was with him again, the frail man she had never been able to let go of. On our seventh anniversary, we had plans to meet at our usual spot for dinner. Three hours passed, and she still had not shown up. I stood on the street, burning with fever, dialing one number after another. My father picked up, his voice warm and unhurried. "Naomi just came by for dinner. Don't worry, I've got my eye on her for you." A friend working at her company lau

I could feel his rage building but this was my fight, my destiny. He held my gaze for a moment before nodding. I stepped away from him and felt a smirk play at my lips. I called on the wind and all at once it came to me. This time, for the first time, it obeyed my every direction down to the details. I created a whirlwind that started small and then gained power seconds later. My emotions no longer interrupted the wind, this time it was steady, just as Grandmother told me it would be.