Abandoned Farmhouse Novels & Stories

We had finally arrived to the outskirts of Stratheom by night fall. Nicklos had taken over in navigating as he had been here numerous times. He knew exactly where the abandoned mill was and took us on shortcuts through the forest to get there. It was in an over grown hey field. A single barn looking ready to fall apart with its worn out red faded wood and crumbling walls. The ceiling was caved in, only a few boards dangled dangerously towards the grown. All the windows had been smashed in or broken away from heavy weather. Some of the walls had gaping holes in them, the wood rotting around the edges from years of decay.

He marks the same turn on the map with a red X. Flicking through satellite images on his screen, he zooms in—fields, broken fences, grain silos, isolated barns. Some marked as “Private Property.” Some unnamed. “Which one of you is the graveyard?” He opens another file—GPS pings from burner phones, triangulated from previous nights. One spot hits three times. A farm marked simply as “Bramley Lot – Abandoned.” He types rapidly, pulling property records. Nothing since 1997. No utilities. No taxes paid in years.

Havermouth, Present Time Samuel had always found the farmhouse and its surrounding buildings to be a peaceful, almost spiritual place, caught in a moment of time like an insect in amber as Sigrid had resisted changing her home, and water was still hand pumped into the bathroom, and the rooms were lit by candlelight and the fireplace. There were ruins amongst the rambling gardens and fields – little cottages for those that served the farmhouse and worked the farm around it. Samuel knew of the tragic misunderstanding that had led to those ruins and the deaths of those who had lived within them and suspected that Sigrid’s refusal to move or upgrade her home was as a monument of grief for those

SCARLETT : The farmhouse sat at the end of a winding dirt road, nestled between rolling green fields and a thick tree line. It was a sturdy two-story home, built with warm brown timber and stone, standing strong as if it had weathered years of seasons. The wraparound porch had wooden railings, a few rocking chairs, and flower pots spilling over with bright daisies and lavender. A wind chime swayed gently, adding a soft melody to the sounds of nature.

I couldn’t wait to hold them in my arms again. We said our goodbyes and Joffrey and I set off to find out where the GPS would lead us. On the outskirts of town, it led us to an old abandoned looking farmhouse. I stopped the truck well away from the property. There was no living soul about which I found strange. There should have been patrols to keep the borders safe. I turned to Joffrey, “Something’s not right. I think we should go back.” Joffrey agreed. “I have an uneasy feeling as well.”

Lane shrugged. “Thank you so much for this valuable information. We promise that we are going to find the culprit of this abduction.” Lane smiled before he motioned Amber toward the door. “Goodbye sweetheart.” Amber breathed heavily before they left. Gloria whimpered covering her face as she shed tears. At an abandoned building, a brown board that was covered in dirt hung loosely with the name 'FIREHOUSE' boldly printed on it. The abandoned house looked like it was destroyed due to a fire outbreak. Cornell forced the old man into the front room, he fell and his hands crashed on a broken wood that pierced through his palm. He screamed holding his hand as blood gushed out and he looked at Corn

Eason said easily. He led us toward the old building. The land, while undeniably beautiful, bore the marks of neglect. The farmhouse stood silent, its windows boarded up, and the outbuildings leaned precariously. Yet, from what was growing here already, it was nearly everything I'd been told it would be.

“Heath… I am sorry.” He nodded. “So am I. So am I.” As they got out of the car she looked around and raised an eyebrow. “What the f-k is this place?” She asked. The farmhouse was made of logs, and the porch was strung with herbs drying, the plant pots around it filled with flowering herbs. Beyond the house, she could see people in sunhats moving between tidy rows of garden. A sign hung from the porch: Haven Farm.

We moved cautiously, knowing one wrong step could lead us straight back into the hands of our pursuers. Eventually, we stumbled upon an abandoned farm. It was eerily silent, devoid of animals or any sign of life. Carefully, we crawled into a small shelter on the property, hearts pounding as we waited, hoping no one would come across our hiding spot. The night stretched on, and exhaustion took over in the early hours of the morning. Sleep came in fitful snatches, but the thought of returning to the camp was out of the question. With the first light of dawn, we explored the farmhouse itself. Inside, we discovered a few stray supplies, enough food to sustain us for a few days if we were careful