The Silence Ritual
She was born to scream, but they taught her to kneel.
: The Silence Ritual
Long before she became fire, she was just a girl in the dark.
They called her cursed.
They locked her inside a room with no mirrors, no sound, no reflection of what she could become. Every night, they made her kneel. Every morning, they whispered:
“Silence is sacred.”
But deep inside, a rhythm refused to sleep — a drumbeat in her veins, passed down by women who once ruled storms and swallowed suns.
One night, under a moonless sky, the silence cracked.
It wasn’t a voice.
It was a pulse.
A spark.
She placed her palm on the cold floor, whispered a name she didn’t know she remembered — and the walls started to hum.
The ritual was broken.
She didn’t escape.
She **unleashed**.
The world didn’t notice her absence.
But it would **never forget her return**. writing...
About the Creator
Shabir Salar
1️⃣ Writing not to impress, but to express.
2️⃣ Turning pain into words, one story at a time.
Keep reading
More stories from Shabir Salar and writers in Chapters and other communities.
Overexposure
There is a point in the ascent where the brightness stops illuminating and starts burning. It happens gradually, then all at once — the moment when the light that once felt like clarity becomes something harsher, sharper, more invasive. This is the stage of the upward weather I call overexposure.
By Elisa Wontorcika day ago in Chapters
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.