White Noise Novel Novels & Stories

Kim’s POV It’s strange how silence can be both a comfort and a curse. I lie on the couch in Erik’s apartment, wrapped in a soft grey blanket that still smells faintly of his cologne. Outside, the city hums — distant sirens, horns, a dog barking somewhere far below — but up here, it’s quiet. Too quiet, sometimes. I never realized how much noise trauma made until it was gone: the slammed doors, the raised voices, the creaking floorboards under heavy, angry footsteps.

Usually, I don't communicate with this multitude of words, so he understands there must be something important going on. “Enrick, whatever it is, we'll get through it. You know I can't be mad at you for long. So, spit it out, man. Don't beat around the bush. You are making me nervous”, he answers curiously. I swallow and look at my Beta. “You see, that White Wolf crossing our border...,” I begin hesitantly. Jace suddenly starts laughing uncontrollably, causing me to stare sheepishly at him. He gets up from the chair, grabs his stomach and hiccups around the office. Goodness, what a drama king.

But it isn’t déjà vu, it is different… “Kaia?” His voice calls out to me as he notices me watching him, yet his hands…his paws remain all over her. It’s like a white noise in my mind…I can’t think, I’m trapped between the white noise and pain returning to me as my energy levels start to deplete. Then the white noise blankets across my entire mind…like a white sheet has been laid down. A blinding light causing me to slam my eyes shut and my hands to clutch my head into my hands.

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.

ISABELLE’S POV The night was silent, the window still wide open and cold wind breezing into my room I lay sprawled across my bed, a romance novel balanced in my hands. I was slowly humming a song, the faint glow of the lamp casting a warm halo over the room. I lit the fireplace to keep the chills away. The wildfire filled the room with comforting heat. I was lost in the words of the novel when my wolf suddenly stirred, waving her tail. ‘Someone’s here.’ she whispered, alert and eager.

He whispered against my ear. A shiver of excitement ran through me which immediately released my hold on him. “Good girl.” He whispered before kissing my neck. I drifted off to sleep before Damian returned. Small waves lapped against the sand as I stood watching them. The sound of wildlife around me filled my ears. The waves swooshed louder and became bigger. Quickly swishing passed my ankles and sent ice cold waves through me. I tried to back away but I was held in place. The sand was swallowing up my feet and holding me in place. I tried to thrash and pull my way out, but I couldn’t move. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. As soon as my eyes closed, the sand released me and the crash

This is the source itself, awake and answering, and there is no re-tuning back from a note older than the one you were made to hold. The white plate fractures along its center with a sound past the top of hearing, felt in the teeth and the sinuses before the ears catch up to it. Then it does not so much break as come undone. The whole tall shape sublimes from the edges inward, the plate going to a fine pale dust that holds no warmth at all, sifting down through the white light in a slow drift that settles over the wrecked nursery like ash, like the first grey snow of a winter that arrived in a single second.

NOVAH’S POV The silence after the howls wasn’t peaceful. It was heavy. Like a thick, suffocating blanket thrown over the world. Over me. Moonlight, cold and pale, painted stripes across my bedroom floor, highlighting dust motes dancing in air – tiny, insignificant things, just like me. I hadn’t moved from the window. My cheek still pressed against the cool glass, my breath fogging a small circle that vanished almost as soon as it appeared. *Just like hope,* I thought dully.

[The Silence of the Stone] The world didn’t end with a scream. It ended with a breath—his breath, hitched and shallow, ghosting against the hollow of my throat before the light took everything. I woke up in the white. It wasn’t the sterile white of a Macau lab or the blinding white of the spire’s overload. It was the soft, muffled white of a mountain winter. The snow was falling again, thick and indifferent, burying the charred remains of the obsidian needle beneath a blanket of cold mercy.

Every time I thought I was close to sleep, the scene would replay, a cruel loop in my mind. I tossed and turned, pulling the covers over my head, then throwing them off again. It was useless. My thoughts were a runaway train, and I couldn't find the brakes. I needed something, anything, to quiet the chaos. I reached for my phone, the screen lighting up the darkened room. I opened YouTube, my fingers searching for something, anything, to soothe the turmoil. "White noise," I typed, and a list of videos appeared. Rain sounds, static, gentle hums.