The wheel of the year turned like a slow tide, and here we stand at its close — rich with stories, hardened by truth, softened by grace. In the quiet places between sirens and silence, 2025 became one of reckoning and resolution. This year I …
Read MoreWhere Light Meets Darkness: An Interview with Richard White on The Quiet After the Sirens
When the sirens fade, and the chaos quiets, what remains? For author Richard White, that lingering silence became the genesis of his newest novel, The Quiet After the Sirens, published by Whispers in the Dark Press.
Read MoreThe Storm Within: Visualizing the Silent Struggle of First Responders
These haunting portraits of an EMT grappling with invisible wounds give voice to the untold stories behind the sirens, where pain, duty, and silence collide.
Read MoreWelcome to The Quiet After the Sirens — My Newsletter & Writing Journey
Download Chapter 1 of The Quiet After the Sirens, a memoir on EMS, fire, and military life—stories of service, trauma, and resilience. Subscribe now.
Read MoreThe House of Glass — Memoir Opening Scene
A house built of glass, fragile as my childhood. Cracks spread with every argument, shaping the person I’d become. This is where my story begins.
Read MoreThe Quiet After the Sirens
In The Quiet After the Sirens, Richard White—poet, veteran, and former EMS Lieutenant—offers an unflinching look at the silent battles that follow service. From the scorching deserts of Iraq to the heart-wrenching stillness of 911 calls, White confronts the toll of trauma, exposing the weight of PTSD, depression, and anxiety with raw vulnerability and unwavering honesty.
Read MoreThe Quiet After the Call
There’s a silence most people never hear.
It’s not peace—it’s the sound after the sirens, when the adrenaline fades and the ghosts start talking.
After years in the military, fire service, and EMS, I came to know that silence too well. It isn’t quiet. It’s noise turned inward.
In that space, the heart races, the mind replays trauma, and the spirit aches under the weight of it all.
Crowded rooms became unbearable. Joy felt dangerous. And I couldn’t sit still without my hands shaking.
But healing began when I finally stopped running and listened to that silence. I learned to name the things I feared. I started writing again.
This memoir, The Quiet After the Sirens, is a testament to survival—not just in the field, but in the stillness that follows.
It’s about carrying the weight, honoring the ghosts, and learning how to breathe again.
If you’ve ever known that kind of silence, this story is for you too.