A Good Neighborhood Novels & Stories

Restless and unfulfilled, I grabbed my smokes and a lighter and headed out to the stairwell for a puff. Just as my hand touched the door to the stairwell, I heard a faint, frantic moaning. At first, I thought it was just a cat in heat. Then, a familiar scent hit me. It was a perfume that immediately made me think of my charming neighbor from next door, Demi Wilson. Every time I ran into her, that sweet, intoxicating scent always arrived first. Then came the flash of a red slip dress or perhaps a bodycon dress, with a neckline plunging incredibly low.

I wanted the distance between me and that address erased, not extended by idiots who didn’t know how to use a gas pedal. When I finally pulled into the neighborhood, my irritation sharpened into something more focused. This wasn’t luxury. No manicured hedges. No security gates. No silent wealth humming beneath polished stone. Just brick buildings, worn sidewalks, and people living real lives instead of curated ones. And somehow… it suited her. Of course Eden wouldn’t choose anything pretentious. Of course she’d pick something honest, something stripped down, something that didn’t require playing dress‑up for neighbors who didn’t give a damn anyway.

Mom and I purchased a townhouse in a quiet neighborhood, which is four hours away from Camden. Our neighbors aren't the cheery types of people, unlike in Camden, who always greet you even when you are not close to them, but I found our new place much more homely than our previous house, because we are far away from judgments. The less people care about us, the better we live. Our new house is large enough for just the two of us. I'm now going to a public high school while working as a janitor at a mall. While Mom continued selling vegetables and fruits from the nearby market in our neighborhood.

Damon and Jane got home in no time, the traffic in the district area wasn't as bad as that of center town. She was amazed at what her eyes could see. It wasn't just beautiful but breathtaking. A quiet neighborhood, well guarded and secured, the gate guard gave a simple bow to them when they drove by.

"Give me the address and show me responding." The address comes through on the laptop sitting to my side. That roller coaster ride in my stomach comes to a complete stop. Saliva pools against my tongue and I fight against my gag reflex. Fuck me. That's the same neighborhood I lived in when I was a kid. It's actually three houses down from the one I grew up in. There are good people in the neighborhood, but they are few and far between. Most are drug addicts, alcoholics, and people who seem to think life owes them something they haven't yet been given. They don't believe in trying to do better for themselves. They believe in waiting for someone to hand them the proverbial dream, instead of wo

I pull out of the garage and wait for the door to close before heading down the long driveway. My neighbor, Ray, is grabbing his garbage bin as I pull onto the street. I wave and tell myself to swing by when I get home to thank him for getting my mail while I was gone. Ray has always been a reliable neighbor. He isn’t overly chatty, which I like, and he’s always willing to lend a hand when I need it. I chose this neighborhood because of its location. I like being far enough away from London to have privacy, but close enough to get into the city quickly. The neighbors around here keep mostly to themselves. We look after one another’s property, the events that took place last night with Jason

Luckily, when the city's mayor was desperate to curry your favor, it was pretty easy to close the deal on a beautiful, fully furnished house in a couple of days. It was a gorgeous duplex with four bedrooms, a huge home office, a game room/library, a state-of-the-art kitchen, and a huge backyard. It was situated in a nice, safe little suburban neighborhood where the worst crime they’d ever seen was a neighbor’s dog peeing on newspapers. The boys loved it instantly and hadn’t stopped exploring happily. Normally, I would yell at them to take it easy and calm down, but I was just so happy that they seemed to be back to their normal selves.

“The apartment itself is decent enough.” Nora’s expression remained open and understanding. “But?” she asked gently. I smiled apologetically. “But this area feels too populated for me.” Recognition crossed her face immediately. “Ah,” she said knowingly. “You prefer quieter neighborhoods.” “Yes,” I admitted. “Much quieter.” “That makes sense.” There was no irritation in her tone, which I appreciated immensely. Honestly, I had dealt with enough pushy realtors recently to value simple professionalism. Nora nodded thoughtfully. “I understand completely. This area tends to attract younger families and professionals because of the accessibility.”

His lips spread into a smile. “Have you even visited my neighborhood, aside from coming to my house in the middle of the night? Have you seen how charming it is? Have you breathed in that special mix of trees,flowers, and the sea in the air? If you mow it all down, it’ll disappear. It’ll be sterile. It’ll lose its life. It’ll be just another huge block of ugly concrete. Your clientele will probably be as shady as you and they’ll come and go. Some people have been coming to my dad’s restaurant for decades. They brought their families, who then continued to bring their children. Traditions were created. And my neighbors... They’re all nice, kind, hardworking people. Many of them have jobs clos

He wants more. Chris insists on driving Mia home despite her saying that she can take the subway. But when they arrive at the address Mia says is her home, Chris realizes why Mia doesn’t want him to drive her home. It is a beat-up neighborhood in eastern Brooklyn. This neighborhood is notorious for poor utilities and high crime rates. He needs to get her out of here. Stopping at the entrance of the apartment, Mia turns to him and says, “thank you for the dinner and drive, Chris. I really enjoy the night.”