An Outsider Novels & Stories

He laughed, the sound making my insides feel a tad weird but in a way it felt nice. "I was clearly busy at the time," I began, my hand indicating my room and the apartment before us. "So there was no time to ask questions on whether anyone resided here, spirit wise that is." I gave a small grin. "Plus I didn't know what to say." "Based upon my observation you," Jem said with a light chuckle. "Cora," he said, brushing his fingers across my cheek. His touch was cool and still semi-solid. "Didn't you have any loyal friends to rely on growing up?" I shook my head to tell him no because in some way I always remained the outcast of anyone that I befriended. A loner who believed that trusting other

The bottled blonde pointed her finger at him. “You’re an outsider,” she intoned. “You don’t belong here.” The term was repeated over and over by every voice. It rolled through like dominoes falling. “Outsider, outsider, outsider.” Alex couldn’t see over the crowd. Anyone who came within its orbit seemed to be pulled into its gravity, and nobody was protesting. Nobody was going to help him.

An Outsider was a totally disgusting and abhorrent parasitic life-form. Just by touch alone an Outsider can infect a human host, it then ensures the continuous survival of its own kind. It’s a parasitic like Alien species. Within the confines of the Multi-facet room Willy Goodwill tracked the rate of the Outsider infection with the help of the Artificially Intelligent operating system Andy. A 3-D image of the statistics appeared: About 500 thousand people have already been infected. “My God the infection is doubling by the minute!” Exclaimed Willy in panic.

and then he turned to go. “What do you mean…outsider, kela? You think I’m an outsider?” Now, I stopped him. Outsiders, I knew, were not good for us. They came from Bangladesh or some other places and were snatching our land, our jobs, destroying our culture…everything. I knew that. But I, how was I an outsider? I was born here. I was brought up here. My father, mother and my entire clan lived here for ages.

For a man in his forties, he’s handsome with an almost playful and carefree glint in his eyes. He’s got a large and broad body, toned perfectly with bulky muscles that make him look tougher and stand out in any room. This is the man I’ve strived so much for over 17 years to impress, desperately waiting for the day he recognizes me… My adoptive father. I clear my throat, staring away again “What’s a Xenos by the way?” He asks, probably after being called it a few times. “Locals refer to outsiders as Xenos. Anyone that isn’t recognized as a member of the pack is bullied — most times, severely and ostracized from social events.” I explain in depth.

There is only this journal and the telephone, which rings just as seldom as the shuttle. Maybe, it is about time I came to grips with the fact that I am an outsider. To claim a path for myself in the middle, and cease seeking to belong to one or the other group. Other folks must be present. Other outsiders, other hybrids. Perhaps I can look for them, and make something new. Perhaps I should go back to where I came from, to my parents. Not to beg for permission to speak, but to call for an account. I also have to personally dispute any charges they have to make to establish my loyalty and usefulness.

A driver stepped out and opened the door. From the back seat emerged a man who exuded an air of sophistication and power. Dressed in a custom-tailored black suit, he instantly commanded the attention of every woman present. Haley frowned at the figure with a puzzled expression. "Who's that? What a grand entrance!" If she had looked closely, she would have noticed Joel standing rigidly beside her. His face was drained of color. "Mr. Siegel… You're here…" Joel's legs wobbled as he forced himself to approach Thomas.

Jaxon thought about that. He told Callum about a movie he'd watched three times his freshman year, a quiet film about a man driving across the American southwest after something had ended, nothing dramatic happening in it, just the road and the landscape and the particular quality of someone in between one version of their life and whatever came next. He'd watched it alone in his apartment three times because something in it had reached a feeling he hadn't had language for at eighteen, which was the feeling of being in a life that had been arranged for him and not quite knowing where in it he was actually living.

"Dylan Skinner, you're under investigation for intentional harm and illegal organ trafficking. You need to come with us." My mother's eyes widened in disbelief. "That's impossible! My son just had a kidney transplant. He was only discharged today. How could he hurt anyone, let alone traffic organs?" My father shook his head, looking at Dylan lying pale on the bed. "My son has been weak since he was a kid. He barely even socializes. How would he have the chance to do something like that? You've got the wrong person!" Janice's voice trembled as she spoke. "Then can you tell me where Curtis is right now?"

F*ck what everyone has to say. I no longer want to be hidden. I no longer want to be the mistress. I want to be loved and shown off to the world by the graces of Callum Johnson. The neighborhood good guy. I wanted everyone to know that he chose Lisa Warden, the neighborhood slut, over his boring prude of a girlfriend Colette. I am certain that they would not even know who she is because she very much that invisible. The ride to my house was spent with Callum placing his hand on my thigh again giving it a light squeeze. In turn I put my own hand on his thigh and ran my fingers along his thigh in a figure eight pattern moving ever so slowly higher and closer to his groin.