Abandoned Farmhouse Novels & Stories

Even my wolf soul was bound, unable to escape. I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live. But I knew—he would never come back. The mine collapsed. Boulders and soil came crashing down like ravenous beasts, swallowing me whole. The unbearable agony forced a final howl from my throat. I died with my eyes wide open, unwilling to close them. And within my frozen womb, my unborn pup perished too. Yet all he was worried about was his lover, Sophia.

The farmhouse sat on a hill, a dark silhouette against the moonlit clouds. It looked abandoned, lonely, and to Elion, it looked like heaven. "Structure identified," Cale rasped. He was leaning so heavily on Elion that they were practically walking as a three-legged organism. "Two stories. Wood frame. Flammable." "It's not flammable, Cale. It's home. Or it used to be." "Wood burns. That is a chemical fact." "Just keep walking. We're almost to the porch."

Sometimes you have to make decisions that destroy you—all because you have no choice. Now I’m back to being Mrs. Cross. Back to the loveless marriage. Back to misery. Back to the beautiful, suffocating cage called home.

He wanted to know what she was up to, and if he didn’t get any feedback soon, he might just let his madness roam free. The phone rang. Hayden reached absently for it and placed it in his ear. “Yes?” “We’ve found Tessa again,” Rocky said at the other end of the phone. “She returns to a farmhouse every evening. It’s situated in a vast field. The owners died a while back and family overseas would not be taking over any time soon.” Hayden straightened in his seat. “She stays in a farmhouse?” “Yes. It is old but luxurious. There is a two-story building that should have broken apart by now. The pillars are holding it strongly.”

After tracking down the local town mayor, I managed to lease an abandoned farmhouse with a yard. The house was quite old, and the yard was overgrown with weeds, but the best part was that it was dirt cheap. Using a portion of my insurance money, I hired a few local handymen to fix up the place. I also bought some basic furniture—a bed, a wardrobe, a table, and two chairs, which were more than enough.

It wasn't until much later that I found out most of that money had gone straight to Derek and Chloe. I looked down at her hand on my arm. "Let go." She wouldn't. Tears kept falling. "Ryan, you can't do this. You're my flesh and blood—" I laughed. Flesh and blood? Then why had that flesh and blood spent its childhood sleeping in a space under the stairs, eating other people's leftovers, and nearly dying of a fever alone in an empty house? "Mom. You keep saying I'm your flesh and blood. Then tell me — how many ribs does a person have?"

I still can’t stop thinking about the old man. We spent 15 more minutes on the road until we finally reached our destination. I got out of the car and stared at the two storey abandoned house. It was an ancestral house of the previous owner and the family decided to sell it together with the wide land since they decided to migrate abroad. I stared at the ruins. It looked very old and some wild plants had covered the roof and some parts of the house. There are even burns. “It’s a waste they didn’t preserve it,” said Rogue who stood beside me with hands inside the pocket of his pants.

It was clear that the grandpa spared no expense in providing the best possible environment for his horses. As I finish settling in the horses, I take one last look at the barns and pastures before head toward the house. The two-story farmhouse with a wrap-around porch is a sight to behold. It's exactly what I imagined when I decided to leave the hustle and bustle of the city and move to the countryside.

It was his birthday. He crested the hill, the small, dilapidated farmhouse coming into view. It was a relic of his mother’s parents, a place that smelled of damp wood and hopelessness. The roof sagged in the middle like a broken spine, and the plastic sheeting covering the windows flapped violently in the wind. To anyone else, it was a hovel. To Seok-hoon, today, it was a palace of possibility. She promised, he thought, his little heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Mom promised.

"The house you described. In the cab. Yard and boring Sundays and arguments about television." "Mm." "I've been looking." I turn to look at him. "Looking." "Properties. In this area. Three of them came up that fit what you described." He pulls out his phone. Shows me. Three houses. Real ones. The kind with history and imperfections and rooms that need deciding about. "I wasn't going to say anything yet. Wasn't sure if it was too — " "Show me the second one," I say. He swipes to it. White farmhouse. Old barn converted to an office space. Big kitchen. A yard that goes on longer than necessary in the best possible way.