What's That Noise Book Novels & Stories

Yulia probably saw me at it with the eyes on the back of her head. If Ronan didn’t want me in the basement, he should have put a lock on the door. Chink . . . click. The sound broke the silence and squeezed the pulse point in my throat. My mind was a mess trying to decipher the product of the noise, but I forced myself to nonchalantly flip a page. Ronan knew I couldn’t read Russian, yet he had nothing to say about the ridiculous, treasonable book in my hands. The roomremained silent except for the incessant noise that frayed the edges of my

~15 years ago~ A little guy at the age of 5 was busy reading a book under an old tree but still stood tall and look Almighty. His low grade cheap glasses make a silent noise whenever he turned his head to look at the next page. He reads very quietly that if one make a slightest noise around him, that noise will be transferred through his ears, like the light footstep at the back of the tree he was currently reading his psychological book in and that was heading its ways to him.

Forbiden fruit. It just popped into my mind, and I'm really annoyed right now. I closed the book with its heavy cover making a 'buk' sound amongst the silence of the library. My eyes widened as the click of the library door hit my ears, and, as if my mind had bewitched him, Nicholas de Sanctis stepped inside.

Neither of them moved away. The silence made the rustle of his jacket sound enormous. When he pulled the book free, another volume tipped and slapped onto the floor with a sharp crack that echoed down the empty row. Both of them froze. No footsteps answered from the main floor above. No distant voice called out. The quiet simply swallowed the noise and returned, heavier than before.

“That’s not your voice.” “It’s not,” she whispered. “But it’s louder than mine.” Suddenly, the veins across her arms pulsed with a deep red glow, and her back arched once more. This time, she let out a sound that wasn’t a scream—but a growl. Low. Guttural. Almost animal. And the books on the shelves around us began to tremble. One by one, they fell to the ground. The chandelier above swung violently, though no wind stirred.

Chapter 100 SANTINO’S POINT OF VIEW The noise. That's the worst thing here. The noise. The keys being turned, the doors slamming, the footsteps echoing on the concrete, the screams in the hallway. It's never really silence. Even at night, there is always something: a moan, a chuckle, the rattling of a metal bed. They say you get used to everything. This is false. To shame, perhaps. Hunger, surely. But to noise… never.

“He opens the house!” The older Noah cried: “Lena, decide now!” I raised my head. It's all about me. Noah before me, bleeding. Silas on the ground. The baby Cael in Noah's arms, bright. My belly under my hands. Two heartbeats. And then a new voice spoke. Not outside. Not from inside. It's from the blue book. Children's voice. Gentle. Sad. A voice that none of us knew. The book opened itself.

Thump-thump. My pencil slipped from my fingers. Suddenly the room wasn't quiet anymore. It was full of them. Dozens of rhythms. Overlapping. Different speeds. Different strengths. I could hear breathing too. Pages turning. Fabric moving when someone shifted. A shoe scraping the floor three rows behind me. Someone swallowing. My breath caught. Everything became too loud. I covered one ear. It didn't help. Because the sounds weren't coming from one direction. They were everywhere. Thump. Thump-thump.

I drag the blanket higher, forcing my eyes back down to the book as I push down my fear concentrating on the book on my lap. As I gloss over that One line again still coming up with nothing I sigh about to drop the book when a sound breaks through the silence. It’s soft, subtle and then a click falls into place and immediately dread and anxiety fills my lungs as my body stills before my mind catches up. I lift my head slowly, listening for more sound, hoping I heard that sound wrongly and it was just the wind banging against the window. God! I already had a weird evening…. Please let it be the wind and not some intruder!

I shake my head and move on. Walking to the wall where I saw the picture moving, I feel around. At first, it seems like an ordinary wall. But then, I realize there’s a slight separation between panels. This doesn’t seem right. Looking at the bookshelves close by, I begin to tip books up, looking for the strangest ones first, the most worn ones, the biggest ones. I pull on a book that says, “How to Win at War,” and I hear the creaking noise again. The wall opens up. It’s a secret passage.