Abandoned Novels & Stories

"Mom. You keep saying I'm your flesh and blood. Then tell me — how many ribs does a person have?" She went still. I answered for her. "Two of mine were broken. And you told me it was Chloe being young and foolish, that I'd had a bad attitude, that I should just be the bigger person and let it go. So tell me — exactly how big a person do I have to be to just let go of two broken ribs?" My mother opened her mouth. Nothing came out. Behind us, Chloe shouted, "Mom, don't beg him! Let him leave if he wants to! This family doesn't need him!"

My legs like two frozen stakes under these pajamas that weigh the weight of a shipwreck. The city no longer belongs to me. It has become this immense, foreign beast that spits in my face and whose codes I no longer even possess. I am naked , not just of clothes, but of bearings, of shelter, of name. And all I can do is wait for this moment that will perhaps come, or not, with that absurd fear that he changed his mind, that he will leave me there, planted, ridiculous, before the whole world. And yet he comes.

“We are the same age, exactly the same age… I am not a fossil.” “Mom said a fossil can be ‘a markedly outdated or old-fashioned person or thing,’” I say, smiling that I got it right. If I got it right on quiz night, then Mom would take me out on her wolf for a run. “So, that means that you are a fossil. A Fossil Dad.” “I need new children.” I watch with wide eyes as we get closer and closer to the pack’s armory. Jace said it was the place where all the pack’s weapons were, the one that had the best weapons for the strongest warriors in the pack. He said those types of warriors were called Specialists. Maybe that’s why the building was so big, to fit them all inside.

Someone up front slows the convoy, hand lifting. “There,” a voice murmurs over the quiet channel. I see it a second later. Chain-link fencing, half-swallowed by ivy. A rusted sign hanging crooked, letters sun-bleached and flaking. Beyond it—low concrete buildings, a watchtower with a collapsed ladder, fields gone wild with green. A compound. Abandoned. Forgotten. Intact. Someone breathes out a laugh, shaky and disbelieving. “My uncle used to talk about places like this. Doomsday people. Stockpiled everything. Then one day—poof. Just gone.”

Her freedom was gone, forever. I heard the news and only smiled quietly. Sometimes, people’s choices were just that strange. One thought can lead to heaven, the next to hell. Blackie nuzzled against my leg affectionately, then dashed off, full of energy, to play in the yard.

“But we can find anomalies in the wild. The abandoned districts have dozens of unmanaged manifestations. No oversight, no observers. We can run our tests without interference.” It was dangerous. The abandoned districts were called abandoned for a reason—they were overrun with anomalies, structurally unstable, and patrolled sporadically by Hunter teams looking to make easy credits on low-level eliminations. But they were also off the grid, which made them perfect for our purposes. “We’ll need supplies,” Amon said. “Medical equipment, monitoring tools, more ammunition.” “I have contacts in the black

Markus POV The abandoned church smelled like dust, rain, and old death. Perfect. I stood near the broken window, watching the storm gather outside while the weak candlelight behind me flickered against the cracked walls. The place had once belonged to humans decades ago before being left to rot deep inside neutral territory. Now it belonged to no one. Which made it useful. One of the men entered quietly behind me. “The outer paths are clear,” he reported. “No trackers.” I nodded once without turning.

“Every time I close my eyes, I see glimpses of a world so different from this one. Mirrors, marble floors, business suits. I used to be loved with care. But now I can barely remember my own name.” He said nothing for a long time. Finally, he rose and held out his hand. “I want to show you something.” Fifteen Minutes Later They stood in front of an abandoned building on the edge of the village, a disused house which looked like it had been abandoned for a very, very long time now blanketed with moss and silence. Dust clearly seen at the entrance as inserts cropped out as it saw the devil himself. “This used to be where I stayed u

ahe asks. I glance at her, still catching my breath from earlier, my lungs are tight, but the pain is manageable. "What do you mean?" She steps closer, her eyes moving to the window, where the trees shift gently in the wind. “There are abandoned homes nearu in what used to be Song Pack territory. No one lives there anymore, and most of the buildings are crumbling, but not all of them. Some are still intact.” I furrow my brow. “And?” “And maybe instead of you retitnung to Kaelen right now, we set up camp there for a few nights. You’ll still be close enough to report back if needed, but you won’t risk being seen with me.”

That was the factory, I guessed. It leaned into the fog like it was listening to what was coming. It looked spooky, patient, hungry for trouble. I shivered, and not just from the cold. “There it is,” Elky said softly, as if naming it out loud was enough to make it look better. I stared at the concrete ruin, my throat tight, my chest heavy. “Uh-huh. It is abandoned. Looks like a mausoleum.” “It is,” he said. “And maybe tonight it becomes a crime witness.”