3,49 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Christopher T. Winters
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Sprache: Englisch
The Soft Roads of Midnight – Whispers from the Edges of Silence is a gentle, poetic collection of nighttime journeys by Christopher T. Winters, crafted to bring readers into a quiet, comforting state of calm. Across ten soothing chapters, we follow a solitary wanderer through moonlit forests, listening gardens, whispering winds, and places where memory softens and the heart can finally rest. Each chapter unfolds like a soft beacon in the dark: warm, reflective, and filled with the subtle magic that lives in silence. Winters' writing is serene and atmospheric, offering a steady, peaceful rhythm that invites the mind to slow down and breathe more deeply. From the first glowing lantern to the tender arrival of dawn, every scene is designed to ease the reader gently toward inner stillness. This book is a companion for anyone who longs for quiet moments in a loud world— for sleepless nights, for mindful evenings, or for those times when the soul needs a gentle place to settle. A calming, emotionally warm journey through the hush of midnight, made to comfort, to soften, and to bring peace. Perfect for bedtime reading, soft introspection, and anyone seeking a soothing literary escape.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Seitenzahl: 37
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
Ähnliche
The Soft Roads of Midnight
Whispers from the Edges of Silence
by Christopher T. Winters
Imprint
Author:Christopher T. WintersThorsten FrenzelFinkenkruger Straße 214612 FalkenseeGermany
E-mail: [email protected]
Responsible for content (German law §§ 5 TMG / 55 RStV):Thorsten FrenzelFinkenkruger Straße 214612 FalkenseeGermany
Copyright Notice
© 2025 Christopher T. WintersAll rights reserved.
No part of this e-book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, scanning, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This applies in particular to: – reproductions – translations – microfilming – digital storage – processing in electronic systems
All characters, places, and events in this book—unless explicitly identified as historical—are fictional. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Foreword
There are moments in life when the world feels too loud, too sharp, too hurried.In those moments, the quiet calls to us.Sometimes gently.Sometimes insistently.And sometimes with the soft voice of midnight itself.
This book is a journey into those quiet places—a walk down paths that glow faintly beneath the moon,where your thoughts soften,your breath slows,and your heart remembers its own gentle rhythm.
Each chapter invites you to wander, to listen, and to rest.There is no rush here.No urgency.Only soft steps on soft roads,leading you toward a quieter, kinder place within yourself.
Thank you for walking these paths with me.May they bring you peace.
— Christopher T. Winters
Chapter I – The Lantern That Refused to Dim
Night settled over the quiet path like a soft blanket—not heavy, not cold, simply present, as if it had been waiting all day for this moment of stillness. The air carried a faint scent of moss and distant rain, and somewhere among the trees, a single lantern glowed. It hung from the branch of an old oak, its metal frame worn smooth by time and weather. The glass panes were fogged with a gentle mist, yet the light inside burned softly, steady as a quiet breath.
At first, the wanderer wasn’t sure if the lantern was meant for them. It felt almost like a memory—one of those warm, familiar images that drift into the mind in the moments between waking and sleep. But when they took a single step forward, the lantern brightened. Not sharply, not like a flare or a spark, but like a heartbeat noticing another heartbeat beside it.
The wanderer paused. Another step. Another small increase of light. And then, almost shyly, the lantern began to sway. Not with the wind—for the air was still—but with intention, as though the lantern was inviting them closer. They approached, their footsteps soft against the moss-covered earth. The closer they came, the warmer the air felt, as if the light itself held a quiet, living warmth.
When at last they stood before it, a gentle glow settled across their hands, their chest, and their face. It felt like being recognized. Not by a person, and not by anything supernatural or strange, but by a feeling—a small, warm reminder that they were not lost, even if they felt uncertain.
The wanderer reached out and touched the lantern’s metal frame. It hummed faintly beneath their fingertips, a soft, subtle vibration like the comfort of a hand placed kindly on the shoulder. The lantern swayed again, and then—almost unbelievably—it began to drift forward. Slowly. Gently. As though the night had loosened its hold and allowed the lantern to float just a few inches above the earth.
It paused, waiting.
The wanderer exhaled. Their breath formed a small cloud in the cool air, and the lantern’s light reflected through it, making the cloud shimmer. They took a step after the lantern, then another, and with each step, the lantern drifted ahead—never too far, never too fast, always at the perfect pace to follow without hurry.
The path curved beneath branches heavy with moonlit leaves. Somewhere nearby, an owl called—a slow, rhythmic sound that matched the steady pace of their footsteps. The lantern brightened with each exhale the wanderer released, with each unspoken thought they loosened, with each memory they let drift away like mist.
