The silent Night

Chapter 1: The Silent Night

The night was unusually still, as if the world itself held its breath. Not even the rustle of leaves disturbed the air, and the usual chorus of crickets and night creatures had fallen into a chilling silence. The moon hung heavy and low, casting a pale silver glow on the empty road where a solitary figure walked

Bella, A twenty-year-old girl with deep, thoughtful eyes that seemed to carry the weight of centuries. Her footsteps were soft against the gravel, yet they echoed in the emptiness around her. Alone, always alone. But strangely, she was not afraid. Loneliness had become her shadow long ago, and fear had long since lost its hold on her heart.

Bella had grown up in the shadowed corners of an orphanage, the echoes of her past following her like a curse. Her parents had died when she was just ten, and her remaining relatives had turned their backs on her, whispering of dark omens and cursed blood. “She brings death,” they had said behind closed doors. “Wherever she goes, misfortune follows.”

They blamed her.

And in her heart, so did she.

Bella had a secret—a terrible, undeniable truth that she could not escape. Since childhood, she had visions. Not of distant futures or grand prophecies, but of death. And not just any death—only the deaths of those she loved. She had seen her parents’ demise before it unfolded, had warned them tearfully, but they dismissed her fears as mere nightmares.

Until the day it came true.

Since then, Bella buried her emotions deep beneath a cold, silent surface. She dared not love, dared not care. She believed with all her heart that it was her affection, her attachment, that summoned doom upon those she held dear. Even the small puppy she had once cherished met a grim fate shortly after she dreamed of its happen

Bella had long accepted the way people looked at her. Fear. Disgust. Whispers behind her back like a cold wind always biting at her skin.

“There goes the witch.”

“Don’t look at her, or she’ll curse you.”

“She killed her own parents, you know.”

None of it was new. Since the day she had first set foot in Blackthorn High, her fate had been sealed in the minds of her classmates. A curse that followed her like a second skin.

She never bothered to correct them. What was the point?

They avoided her at lunch, left empty seats in classrooms as if she carried a disease. Teachers spoke to her with caution, as though afraid her mere gaze would bring misfortune.

There were no notes passed to her in class, no smiles exchanged in corridors. No secret friendships. No birthday invitations. Just silence and fear.

Bella had learned to walk through the halls with her head high and her heart locked away, safe behind iron walls.

Don’t love anyone, she reminded herself every day. Don’t let anyone get close.

Graduation came like the closing of a long, dark chapter. There were no cheers for Bella, no claps when her name was called. She walked across the stage in eerie silence, her eyes steady, her face expressionless.

As she held her diploma in her hands, she felt a cold emptiness inside. What was supposed to be a moment of triumph felt like a hollow victory. She was free of Blackthorn High, but not free of herself.

And yet, life pushed her forward.

She had applied—more out of routine than hope—to the prestigious Eldermere College, a place of high towers and old stone buildings that smelled of history and promise. She never believed she would be accepted.

But she was.

When the acceptance letter arrived, sealed in an elegant wax crest, Bella felt a flicker of something she hadn’t felt in years: uncertainty.

Why me? she thought.

A part of her hoped maybe things would change there. Maybe at Eldermere, no one would know her past. No one would whisper “witch” behind her back.

But another, darker part of her—the part that had grown strong over the years—told her it wouldn’t matter. People like her were born to be feared, not loved.

Still, despite the weight of her doubts, Bella packed her bags. She boarded the train to Eldermere, watching the fields blur past the window, her thoughts tangled between hope and despair.

I don’t like to live, she admitted silently, her reflection pale against the glass. But I’m not ready to give up.

She remembered her parents’ faces, the way they had smiled at her, even when they didn’t believe her visions. She had seen their deaths, and still, they had loved her till the end.

For them, I will keep going.

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