Voice Stories

Ever since the silence began, the world has been wrong. People lose whole days-forgotten, erased- as if their emotions are being swallowed by something unseen. Joy. Fear. Pain. All of it... fading. But Jiwoo hears what no one else can: Emotions making noise. A trembling echo when fear rises, a sharp crack when anger shatters, a low hum when grief tries to breathe. And when the seventh tone awakens inside her skull, the lights flicker- time stutters- and a voice whispers from the empty air: "Hear the seventh tone." Something is breaking. Something is calling. And Jiwoo is the only one who can hear it.

Estúpidamente lo llamaos como ciencia pero él esta aquí, existe y pulsa cada vez mas agresivamente, hemos colmado su paciencia, él acabará con todos nosotros. Lo llamamos VACIO EL ES VOID

Hey I'm Libby! Welcome to my book! I'm a anti social, deaf, and a little chubby shy girl. I have short brown hair and blue eyes and I loveeeee hockey and soccer boys. Life is pretty normal in andi mack ville, but when I got the news that we were moving to hockey land? Ah! So excited, But if only I knew what would happen next. Find out in "Aye Libby! Life of Libby."

He comes when you need him. But can you be there for him when he needs you?

"വെറുമൊരു വിളിയെന്നതിന്റെ പേരിൽ തുടങ്ങിയ ബന്ധം, ജീവിതത്തിൽ വഴിയെഴുതിയ കഥയായ് തീർന്നു." . . . . . . . . My 4th story oru Taekook story ahnu oru noku polum kaanathe shabthathil snehicha avan •♫•Adharv•♫• Thirakeriya roadil kandappol muthal aval avane manassil kondu nadannathaanu •♬•Hridhya•♫•

❪ ៸ black femoc x mason thames ━━━━━ ! ﹆◞ ❫ ꔛ﹅ ۰ ۰ ۰ 一 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒕 look at me with those eyes (that you) 𝒚𝒐𝒖 dazzle 𝒎𝒆 (that you) you knock me 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏... ⠀⠀⠀ ! 𓄼 ━━━━━

"you sing and I feel like my soul is fulfiled". the story in which she heard him sing a really romantic song everynight but it was enlace with sadness. little did she know it was sang happily for someone in past. . . . . . . When people won't let go others life even after leaving this universe. . . . ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• I always wanna write abt baek voice. I'm a hoe for it. started: 11•06•2018 ended: 14•06•2018 lower case intended. Genre: mistery/romance. Short Story.

This is not just my story - maybe it's yours too.

I tried to control my breathing, so that the knife wouldn’t be dug further into my skin by the frantic movement of air into and out of my lungs. I looked up towards him. His eyes didn’t look angry; they looked sad. But my stomach churned at the determination behind the solemnity I saw there. The gray was unmistakably cold-hearted. He was distancing himself from the kill. Allowing himself to become indifferent. My lips parted to speak. “Please, don’t kill me.” Tears began forming at the corners of my eyes... My name is Jezebel, and I have thanatophobia.

I've been a rebel since time knows. I've be protesting against every little thing that bothers me, I've been speaking up for everything that seems right to me. And I've always believed in Revolution2020. I've always believed that a revolution is sure to happen in 2020. And with this thing I've tried to do a bit, of fulfilling my dream of a revolution.

We Answered Our Own Questions is a choral-voice historical fiction set across four weeks in London, 1693, the exact lifespan of The Ladies' Mercury, the world's first women's magazine. Told through a collective "we," the story follows a chorus of ordinary women, a widow who runs a chandler's shop, a seamstress not yet married, an apothecary's wife, a dyer's widow, each of whom wrote a letter to the Mercury that was never printed. When the publication folds after four issues with a quiet thank-you and no acknowledgment of the women it leaves behind, the chorus must reckon with what it means to be briefly seen and then made invisible again. Anchored in the quiet realism of tallow candles, penny coins, and household account books, this is a story about the archaeology of women's interior lives, the questions that had nowhere to go, and the private archives women built to hold them anyway.

yanaal + mika true love soulmates 4lifers‼️🥵

"Missing you is the greatest mistake I've made."

Just some free shout outs. Read the first chapter to find our how to win one.

"Okay, no one has ever noticed me. I'm invisible to them, I'm a nobody. Why you suddenly? No wait, scratch that, especially you? You're the Victoria Johnson." Elliot turned away with a frown, frustration and confusion written all over his face. "No. God, you speak of me as if i'm royalty. You're not invisible. If you are, who or what am i talking to? Am i going insane?-" He chuckled at that, "-So, don't say that. Not only that, but, you have a voice. Your own voice. You just have to say it louder. If not, then together." I smiled softly at him as he looked up, meeting my blue eyes with his bright green ones. --- Meet Victoria Johnson; The popular girl. The girlfriend of Chad Stylington, the Quarterback. She's gorgeous, rich, kind-hearted and modest-All types of good stuff. She's not the usual popular girl that's snarky, horrible or a slut. Nope. She's the opposite really. But every girl wants to be her, and every guy wants her. She has a huge beautiful heart, and not only that, but a beautiful voice too-That no one had ever heard of other than her best friend, Ally, and her family members. She doesn't dare show it. She wouldn't dare to. Until she meets his voice; Elliot Howell. Meet Elliot Howell; The quiet boy that sits at the very back of classes. The one that always has his earphones on, blasting. Always building up tall walls, ignoring anyone and everyone. Head down low to not be noticed. Everyone always ignores him. Always pretending like he's not there. Like his presence doesn't exist. He would always be in his own world-Hearing and making music. Music is his soul, he's life. But he doesn't like to show it to anyone. He would always think he would always be the quiet, unnoticed boy. Well, He and Victoria, will soon meet and it will change everything in their lives. Warning: Contains vulgarities and a little bit cliché. But hope you enjoy!

This short story explores the Canadian Indigenous experience to raise awareness about historic brutalities as a means of inspiring positive change. The accompanying art piece emphasizes the importance of addressing the practical needs of those marginalized and oppressed rather than solely apologizing to them through symbolic gestures. That, according to the author, will be an actual step towards reconciliation. DISCLAIMER Written by a non-Indigenous author who lacks personal affiliation with the explored subject, this story has been inspired by research and reflection. Although tremendous effort has been made to share the Indigenous narrative as accurately as possible, the author sincerely apologizes for any unintentional misrepresentation resulting from possible discrepancies and dramatization that may have distorted content delivery. Overall, it is encouraged to view this short story as a fictional piece of writing inspired by true stories. In addition, please note that the story contains sensitive and serious content that can be interacted with based on the reader's discretion.

Love it when my aggression , happiness , fear , frustration , craziness all find words to express themselves beautifully MORE TO WRITE ..

A book of poems that brings to light the deep cries of the hearts of many.

The voices in my head. The feelings in my heart. The life soaring past me. And the questions never to be thought. Once closed, now open. For those with a sweet heart. Yours truly, Damaris.

The story of a conman who finds himself in a most unusual set of circumstances in which he enters a town in order to pull his con, but strangely finds himself thrown into the bizarre land of Streel, which seems oddly familiar to him. And so he will fight his way through the world of absurdity that is Streel; and so he will meet a woman that he believes he loves; and so he will have to go in search of the Freel, to find the winged "slabberjank" and strike it down, facing all sorts of nonsense and absurdity on his journey through the land, for this is the task of right-handed people. Of course, left-handed people are really no different.