" Silence Between Heartbeats" is a captivating collection of poems that delves into the beauty of nature by drawing comparison to various elements in the world. The poem within the book explores the intricate connections between nature and our everyday lives, offering readers a deep and reflective experience. Through vivid imagery and poignant verses, the poet paints a serene portrait of the world around us, inviting readers to contemplate the silent moments that resonate between each heartbeat. This book is a mirror reflecting the depths of our own souls.
The old Victorian house creaked and groaned, its timbers settling into the earth like ancient bones. The wind howled through the drafty windows, a mournful melody that seemed to seep into the very walls. Inside, a young woman named Anya huddled under a worn quilt, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. She was alone, save for the eerie silence and the occasional creak of the floorboards. Outside, a storm raged, the rain lashing against the windows like tiny fists. Anya shivered, not just from the cold, but from a growing sense of dread. She had been living in the house for a month now, and each day, the feeling of being watched had grown more intense. She'd heard strange noises in the night, whispers that seemed to come from nowhere. And there was always the silence. A heavy, oppressive silence that seemed to linger in the air, even when the house was filled with sound. Anya tried to shake off the feeling, but it was no use. The fear was a cold, clammy hand that wrapped around her heart, squeezing the life from it. She got out of bed and went to the window, peering out into the darkness. The storm had calmed, leaving behind a moonlit sky and a world bathed in an eerie glow. As Anya watched, she saw something move in the shadows. A figure, tall and gaunt, stood at the edge of the property. Its face was obscured by the darkness, but Anya could feel its eyes on her, boring into her soul. She gasped and stumbled backward, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst. The figure began to move toward the house, its steps slow and deliberate. Anya backed away, her fear turning to panic. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. The figure was almost upon her when she heard a noise from behind. She turned and saw a man standing in the doorway, his face illuminated by the moonlight. "Anya, are you alright?" he asked. His name was Ethan, and he was her neighbor. Anya nodded, her voice trembling. "I... I think I saw something." Ethan stepped forward and took her hand. "It's okay. I'm here." Together, they watched as the figure disappeared into the darkness. As it receded into the night, Anya felt a strange sense of calm wash over her. The fear that had gripped her heart seemed to loosen its hold, replaced by a sense of relief. But as they stood there, watching the moonlit sky, Anya noticed something else. A silence. A deep, unnatural silence that hung heavy in the air. It was the same silence she had heard before, the silence that seemed to lurk in the shadows, waiting to pounce. And as she listened to that silence, Anya realized that it wasn't just the house that was haunted. It was something much more sinister. Something that was watching them, waiting for the right moment to strike. Ethan's presence brought a momentary comfort, but as the days wore on, Anya found herself sinking deeper into a pit of dread. The silence that had once been confined to the corners of the house now seemed to follow her everywhere. It was a living thing, hungry and patient, biding its time. One night, as Anya tossed and turned in her bed, unable to shake the feeling of eyes upon her, she heard a faint whisper. It was barely audible, like the rustle of dead leaves in an autumn breeze, but it sent chills down her spine. "Anya," it breathed, her name a sibilant hiss in the darkness. She bolted upright, her heart racing. "Who's there?" she called out, her voice trembling. Silence answered her, but it was not the comforting absence of sound. This silence had weight, presence. It pressed against her eardrums, filling the room with an oppressive heaviness that made it hard to breathe. Anya fumbled for her phone, desperate for light, for connection to the outside world. But as her fingers closed around the device, it let out a piercing shriek before going dead. The screen flickered once, twice, and then faded to black. A sob caught in her throat as she flung the covers aside and stumbled out of bed. She had to get out, had to escape the suffocating silence that threatened to swallow her whole. As she reached for the doorknob, a cold draft swept through the room, carrying with it the scent of decay. Anya froze, her hand hovering inches from the door. Slowly, with a growing sense of horror, she turned to face the room. The moonlight streaming through the window illuminated a scene from her worst nightmares. The walls seemed to breathe, pulsing with an otherworldly life. Shadows danced and writhed, taking on grotesque forms that disappeared the moment she tried to focus on them. And there, in the corner of the room, stood the figure she had seen outside. It was tall, impossibly thin, its limbs too long and jointed in all the wrong places. Its face was a void, a black hole that seemed to absorb all light and hope. Anya's scream caught in her throat as the figure took a step toward her. The floorboards creaked beneath its weight, the sound unnaturally loud in the oppressive silence. She wrenched the door open and fled, her bare feet slapping against the cold wooden floors as she raced down the hallway. The stairs loomed before her, a dizzying spiral that seemed to stretch on forever. As she descended, the whispers returned, a cacophony of voices that echoed in her mind. "Stay," they urged. "You belong here." "No!" Anya cried, stumbling on the last few steps and falling hard onto the floor below. Pain shot through her ankle, but adrenaline propelled her forward. She crawled toward the front door, her salvation just feet away. But as her fingers brushed the cool metal of the doorknob, she felt it. A presence behind her, cold and ancient and hungry. Anya turned, her back pressed against the door, and found herself face to face with the void. The figure loomed over her, its form seeming to shift and waver like smoke. "What do you want?" she whimpered, tears streaming down her face. The figure tilted its head, an eerily human gesture that only served to heighten its otherworldliness. When it spoke, its voice was the sound of wind through a graveyard, of earth settling over a fresh grave. "You," it said simply. Anya's scream shattered the silence, echoing through the empty house and into the night beyond.
An anthology of poems and prose writings in which nurses reflect on their everyday experiences and their reactions to the joys and tragedies they witness on a daily basis.
A poignant and inspirational love story set in Burma, The Art of Hearing Heartbeats spans the decades between the 1950s and the present. When a successful New York lawyer suddenly disappears without a trace, neither his wife nor his daughter Julia has any idea where he might be…until they find a love letter he wrote many years ago, to a Burmese woman they have never heard of. Intent on solving the mystery and coming to terms with her father’s past, Julia decides to travel to the village where the woman lived. There she uncovers a tale of unimaginable hardship, resilience, and passion that will reaffirm the reader’s belief in the power of love to move mountains.
A “heroic” biography of John Cage and his “awakening through Zen Buddhism”—“a kind of love story” about a brilliant American pioneer of the creative arts who transformed himself and his culture (The New York Times) Composer John Cage sought the silence of a mind at peace with itself—and found it in Zen Buddhism, a spiritual path that changed both his music and his view of the universe. “Remarkably researched, exquisitely written,” Where the Heart Beats weaves together “a great many threads of cultural history” (Maria Popova, Brain Pickings) to illuminate Cage’s struggle to accept himself and his relationship with choreographer Merce Cunningham. Freed to be his own man, Cage originated exciting experiments that set him at the epicenter of a new avant-garde forming in the 1950s. Robert Rauschenberg, Jasper Johns, Andy Warhol, Yoko Ono, Allan Kaprow, Morton Feldman, and Leo Castelli were among those influenced by his ‘teaching’ and ‘preaching.’ Where the Heart Beats shows the blossoming of Zen in the very heart of American culture.
The 10th Anniversary enhanced ebook edition of the Pritz Award Honor YA novel that explores essential questions about love in all its forms. Fourteen-year-old Ellen loves her older brother Link—and she really loves his best friend James. They’re the only company she ever wants. And when they fight, she makes sure to never to take sides. She looks up to her brother, the math genius and track star. And she is head over heels for James, with his long eyelashes and hidden smiles. But then something happens that makes Ellen question the kinds of love shared between the three of them—someone at school asks if Link and James might be in love with each other. The question is simple enough—but Link refuses to discuss it. And then James refuses to stay friends with a boy so full of secrets. Ellen’s parents want Link to keep his secrets to himself, but Ellen wants to know who her brother really is. Is her curiosity a kind of betrayal? And if James says he loves Ellen, isn’t that just another way of saying he still loves Link? Featuring a new introduction by Michael Cart, this enhanced edition ebook also includes a video of Garret Freymann-Weyr revisiting My Heartbeat ten years after publication.
oes life go on when your heart is broken? Since her mother's sudden death, Emma has existed in a fog of grief, unable to let go, unable to move forward—because her mother is, in a way, still there. She's being kept alive on machines for the sake of the baby growing inside her. Estranged from her stepfather and letting go of things that no longer seem important—grades, crushes, college plans—Emma has only her best friend to remind her to breathe. Until she meets a boy with a bad reputation who sparks something in her—Caleb Harrison, whose anger and loss might just match Emma's own. Feeling her own heart beat again wakes Emma from the grief that has grayed her existence. Is there hope for life after death—and maybe, for love?
John Cage is the outstanding composer of avant-garde music today. The Saturday Review said of him: "Cage possesses one of the rarest qualities of the true creator- that of an original mind- and whether that originality pleases, irritates, amuses or outrages is irrelevant." "He refuses to sermonize or pontificate. What John Cage offers is more refreshing, more spirited, much more fun-a kind of carefree skinny-dipping in the infinite. It's what's happening now." –The American Record Guide "There is no such thing as an empty space or an empty time. There is always something to see, something to hear. In fact, try as we may to make a silence, we cannot. Sounds occur whether intended or not; the psychological turning in direction of those not intended seems at first to be a giving up of everything that belongs to humanity. But one must see that humanity and nature, not separate, are in this world together, that nothing was lost when everything was given away."
In Edgar Allan Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart", the narrator tries to prove his sanity after murdering an elderly man because of his "vulture eye". His growing guilt leads him to hear the old man's heart beating under the floorboards, which drives him to confess the crime to the police.
