Word Unspoken Novels & Stories

I responded still not noticing the person I'm talking too. "My fiancé won't stop bugging me to set a date for our wedding and I'm still not sure I want to marry her and I found out she can't have kids because she did two damn abortion already" he said sounding stressful. "Can you believe she hid that from me?" He added "Oh I am sorry, lets drink our pain away..... No no no lets get out of here and do something together to erase the awful pain" I said this time staring in his direction. I was completely drunk but he look very handsome with a charming smile. He was sipping on a beer which seems like his forth one because three empty bottle on the counter In front of him.

His authority provided the legitimate, noisy cover. And Kunle, perched on the edge of a low leather sofa, was a world apart. His sleek, encrypted laptop was open, its screen a cascade of code and dark-web dashboard interfaces that looked alien to the opulent room. He wore a headset, murmuring in a mix of English and tech jargon to contacts whose names William and Mimi would never know. “The rhythm is simple,” Mimi had said, her voice leaving no room for debate. “Kunle finds the shadow. I cross-reference the light. William creates the storm they’ll hide in.” It was the first rule of their uneasy alliance.

he said quietly. I smiled. Behind Lucas's proud inspection of his work, the moment we had shared in the snow lingered quietly between us. Not heavy. Not urgent. Just present, the way the snow was present, soft and unhurried, settling over everything and ch anging the shape of the world beneath it. Neither of us spoke about it. But neither of us had forgotten it either.

Controlled. Something is pushing the system— But not blindly. Not like the others did. “Show me,” Adrian says. “I can’t.” “Then tell me.” I swallow. Because this— This is worse than anything we’ve seen so far. “It’s not an Unwritten,” I say. “What?” “It’s something else.” The Unwritten goes still. Completely still. “Define… other,” it says. I shake my head slightly. “I don’t know yet.” But I can feel it.

_*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> He heard it after it left his mouth, the way you heard something that had been said and could not be unsaid, the specific quality of a word that implied a future and a shared investment in it. He had not meant to say it. Or he had not meant to notice that he'd said it. One of those two things was true. He looked at the machine and fed in another coin.

A quiet touch, steady, like breath on skin. He leaned close, voice low like a breath through leaves. Whatever lived inside me, unspoken, he saw it anyway. Not pushing. Just waiting. His words came soft: when the silence broke, he would be there Darkness came as I shut my lids, the meaning seeping through slowly. Between us sat the largest secret, unspoken. Still it lingered, heavy in silence. Yet space between them seemed to vanish overnight.

He scrolled to the very top of our conversation and finally opened the voice message from three days ago, the one he had never bothered to listen to. [Let's break up.] Just a few seconds. A few words. William stared blankly at the two-letter word he had so casually typed in reply: [OK.] His hand trembled, and with a clatter, the phone fell to the floor.

I knew it. I opened it and flipped through the pages until I landed a fourth of the way through. This version was in English, but more of an Old English. Some of the words were a little foreign to me and yet I was still able to understand. The page I landed on stuck out like a sore thumb and I knew there was no way I just happened upon it by chance. ‘Unbinding spell. To return something that has been taken…’

Uninvited. Uncontrollable. Impossible to ignore.

It felt as though the very air crackled with unspoken words, a chorus of muted whispers that followed me wherever I went. It was an atmosphere steeped in a peculiar kind of silence, one that suffocated the truth and veiled the reality behind a curtain of secrecy. It was as if Carmine had commanded everyone to keep their thoughts locked away, their tongues held by an unspoken pact to keep my secrets buried beneath layers of speculation. And the day when a clash that erupted when Jamima, consumed by frustration, attempted to voice her anger. Before her words could pierce the silence, Carmine swiftly intervened, his grasp firm as he guided her away, suppressing any uttered expression that dared