All The Lonely People Novels & Stories

For a text, maybe, something calm and final that would at least be a period at the end of this screaming sentence. By 9:00 PM, the last of the grey daylight had bled from the sky. The silence was no longer anticipatory; it was absolute, verdict. He wasn’t coming back. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. The hope curdled, leaving behind a familiar, acidic loneliness, far more potent than any hangover. I was adrift. Truly, utterly alone. And in that moment, there was only one port in the storm, no matter how strange or digital.

I leaned back against the slick, icy wall, my long, tangled hair clinging to the moisture-soaked stone. I had sent Markel with a note for Donna, a desperate attempt to reach my brother, the only one left who might still stand by my side. But as the night stretched on, the small sliver of moonlight that cut through the high, grated window above me slowly receded, surrendering to the pale, indifferent light of dawn. Yet still, there was no sign of Markel.

"She's just a kid, and she's already out there getting hotel rooms with people? And now that she's gone missing, she's making all of you run in circles? "Pat, why do you still bother with a walking disaster like her? Wouldn't it be better if she just died out there somewhere?" The cold fury in her eyes made me shudder. Patrick finally seized the chance to speak. "Grace, Aubree booked Room 318." Mom had been about to snap back, but suddenly, she froze as if something had just come to mind.

Ronnie's p.o.v I was very excited to go outside. It has been over two months since I left the house and even though I love home I really need to leave its premises. It has felt like a prison even though Dad tried to make it better. The fact that it was just the two of us in this big house sorta rubbed in the fact that I was trapped. When dad went out and left me behind I was so sure he'd find me dead or something. I excitedly ran down the stairs, mom's scolding about running were safely locked at the back of my mind. I quickly grabbed my bag and headed out. I was quickly hit by not salty fresh air. It was hot and the sun shined with vigour, blistering and forcefully heating anything it touch

She'd deleted most of them, but she'd missed that one. Ethan looked younger. Happier. His arm around her waist, both of them smiling at the camera. I wondered what had happened. If she'd cheated with the CrossFit bro, or if it had been something else. If he'd come home one day to find her gone, or if it had been a slow death. I wondered if he was lonely. I hoped he was. Lonely men make bad decisions. And I was going to be his worst one. Thursday couldn't come fast enough.

“I’m sorry. We did everything we could.” Rain streaks down the chapel windows, blurring the world outside into watercolor grief. I sit in the front pew in a black dress, staring at the casket covered in white lilies. Coworkers from the restaurant cry quietly, touching my shoulder, murmuring words of how great my mother was but none of it changes the fact that I am alone! The thought sits in my chest like a stone. As the crowd parts I see him. He stands at the back of the chapel, rain-soaked and disheveled, like he ran here from somewhere far away in his wrinkled and loosened tie.

Chapter 1: The Boy No One Noticed Rain poured heavily over the quiet city of Brookhaven, turning the streets into shining mirrors of neon light and passing headlights. Most people had already rushed home to escape the storm. But one young man was still walking alone. Ethan Cole pulled his worn hoodie tighter around his head as he walked along the empty sidewalk. His shoes were soaked, his hands were cold, and the rain dripped down his face. Still, he kept walking. Ethan was twenty-four years old, but life had not been kind to him.

The battle showed that even the bravest warriors could not overcome the ferocity of the sand people’s relentless assault. Now, she and a handful of survivors huddled together in the dimly lit cave, their bodies sore and their minds fractured from the battle's trauma. The merciless and vast sands stretched beyond the horizon, seemingly endless. They were trapped, isolated, with no clear path out, and the world outside felt alien and suffocating. It felt like they had spent weeks there, not just days. The warriors murmured amongst themselves, but no one had the strength to argue, and the fear that hung in the air made it nearly impossible to think clearly.

He sat alone in the corner, his empty bottles of alcohol piling up in front of him. He wasn't paying attention, so he didn't hear them mention that the Stantons' heiress had been out on a self-searching journey in recent years and had just recently returned. He didn't consider the possibility that the note Jaycie had left him when she left could actually be true. By the time the night was over, it was already late. Cole had drunk far too much, and his steps were unsteady. Wayne and the others saw how badly he was swaying, and they didn't want him to go back alone, so they called Eileen.

“Wayne is a sweet, sweet man. He’s alone. His wife died a few years back and he has no children. No family. No one. The farm has been in his family for several generations, but he’s the last of the line. The poor guy has one of the biggest farms I have ever worked on.” “How does that make him a poor guy?” “Because he worked so hard to keep it up,” I said with the same sadness I felt when I had left the day before. “He offered to sell it to you?” she questioned. I slowly shook my head. “No. Leave it to me. I think he’s given up. He is lonely and misses his wife. He kept talking about getting to see her again.” She put out her lower lip. “That’s so sad.” “It really is. He’s such a nice guy.”