White Noise Novel Novels & Stories

He collapsed onto the floor, his gold static flaring uncontrollably, his small hands clawing at his ears. "MOMMY! IT HURTS! THE METAL IS BITING MY BRAIN!" The "White Noise" was targeted. It was a surgical strike on the White Wolf’s frequency. I tried to lunge for him, but my own lungs refused to expand. The air was a mouthful of needles. The chain at my hip—the silver links fused into the floor—suddenly detonated. The Shared Heat flared, but it wasn't a pulse. It was a scramble.

The landscape was alien and foreboding, a surreal amalgamation of shifting shadows and fragmented structures that seemed perpetually on the verge of collapse. The air was thick with an unsettling stillness, broken only by the occasional whisper of forgotten memories. Each whisper was like a ghostly touch against her skin, a fleeting sensation that left her shivering. The whispers were disjointed, fragments of conversations, cries, and laughter that seemed to echo from the very walls of Nyxterra. They whispered her name in haunting, fragmented tones, urging her deeper into the darkness.

There was a lot of noise around me, a lot of panicked screaming and crying but it was as if despite all of that, I could sense something…different. It was as if for a while everything else was muted, turned into white noise while the distinct sound I had heard earlier now became a whisper. It was like a light caress on my mind, on my body and I wondered where was it coming from. And my gaze traveled down to the book in my hand. It was dark, ominous but I don’t think it had ever spoken to me before. Hell, it had not even spoken to Celia before when she was supposed to break the curse.

table near the wobbly power outlet, plugged in her machine, and started to type. She didn't write a tell-all. She didn't leak secrets about Julian’s bank accounts or his board members. She wrote about time. She wrote about a man who lived in a glass tower but spent his nights in the dark, trying to fix a clock that hadn't ticked in two hundred years. She wrote about the sound of a whistle in a silent room. She titled it: *The Sound of the Glitch.* "If I'm going down," she whispered, her finger hovering over the 'Publish' button, "I'm going down as myself."

Smelling like dust and parchment. The room was silent. Not even the sound of wandering mice at this late hour. I flicked on a desk lamp, eyeing the obscure titles. Goodness, they had to be hundreds of years old. I lightly touched the spines, careful not to damage the books as I pulled out a thick one that called out to me. Woosh. I turned quickly, my breath picking up as I tried to follow the noise. No one stood in the doorway. The hallway was empty and dark.

Each day was a new gift, a new page of a book waiting to be written. She stood and it was unusually bright outside again. And sure enough, when she looked out the window, a thick blanket of sparkling, freshly fallen snow had once again been laid out over the land. But as she watched the cars bustling by below, everything seemed louder than she had remembered. Busier. She guessed it was true that the mind blocks out background white noise until you don't even hear it anymore.

Felix and his warriors were awaiting the enemies at the White Claw pack. Everyone was safely evacuated so that unnecessary casualties could be avoided. The pack awaited the enemies to strike at any time. They stood vigilant with their senses on high alert. It was much quieter since there were no kids playing around outside, elders telling the youngsters stories of the past and women, chatting the night away with some gossip. It's usually lively, but it's eerie, and the tensions were high. The silence between them was thick and heavy, filled with every warrior's doubts and fears.

Lynn’s growl rumbled softly, but she retreated into the back of my mind, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I wasn’t sure what the right choice was, but for now, I decided to keep quiet. Lorenzo had enough on his plate. And me running to him with half-heard conspiracies wasn’t going to help anything. I tried to distract myself by reaching for one of the old books on the shelves. The scent of worn pages and old leather was comforting, and soon, I found myself lost in the stories of ancient wolves, their legends, and the battles they fought. Time passed in a blur as I immersed myself in the words on the page, letting them drown out the turmoil inside me.

“There are wounds that never show on the body that is deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds”—Laurell K Hamilton, Mistrial’s Kiss Chaos’s P.O.V I lay in bed conscious to everything around me yet not so conscious. I was in a half comatose state and I could feel myself changing. Even I, am afraid of what the end result might be. It was a battle of wills that I lost the moment I found out that my mate was cheating on me.

It was a surprise that the news about her ending up as a sex slave wasn't brought to light. A gentle breeze slipped into her room through the ajar window, caressing her cheeks with a comforting touch. Orangy leaves floated down from their branches, forming small heaps on the ground. Squirrels chirped, hiding in the branches, diligently cracking nuts, while others hopped around, eagerly searching for more. Just then, someone suddenly knocked on the door. 'Danise?' she thought. "Danise, didn't you..." As soon as she opened the door and saw who it was, she trailed off.