Books About Orphans Novels & Stories

He placed it on the desk, the heavy thump of it the only sound in the otherwise silent room. I opened it, the scent of old paper and stale ink filling the air. Inside were the faces and names of the girls standing before me, each one a tragic story of poverty and desperation. They were runaways, orphans, children sold into our hands by families who couldn't, or wouldn't, care for them.

Lili lisped. “We don’t!” The two answered with puckered brows creeping on their forehead. “The old mistress might have protected you too much, huh.” Loth sneered. “You don’t know what happens to young war orphans in the slums of various cities, do you? Let me tell you. Many of them die due to hunger or plagues. In this era, it’s better to be a slave than an orphan. At least they get to eat. The kingdom didn’t give a shit about the orphans. I consider us lucky to be picked up on the streets. But we’re luckier since it was the old master who picked us up. Your batch struck had it the best with the old mistress ready to wipe your sorry ass.”

He looked at the building and spoke. “It is an orphanage.” I tilted my head at the words. “What is an orphanage?” I had never heard that word spoken before. I had no knowledge of what it meant. He frowned at the thought as he spoke. “It is a place for babies, kids, and young adults to go when they have no one, and nothing. It is a home for the homeless young. Once you are 15, you are put out on the streets to find your own way. Whether it be the women through marriage to get a home from a man or a man working for a stranger for a home.” I could not believe what I was hearing. I thought that all kids had someone to take care of them. I had no clue that there were kids on the street. It was ho

And, like now, rich clients were grabbed at with greedy hands. My skin shook, blood heating. Growing up in the orphanage taught me many things. It had taught me how to make a bowl of oatmeal feel like an extravagant meal, how to bathe fast and thoroughly in ice-cold water, how to walk with silent feet over the groaning stairs outside the director’s door. But mainly, it had taught me how to protect myself and how to read people. It was how I knew that Cliff was a man of foul-smelling confidence. He lacked the tact of keeping his touch to himself, and I highly doubted my thigh was the first that his fingers had grazed or my spine that first that his belly had pressed against.

Asserting himself finishing my sentence for me, he didn't think that I captured that flash of sadness, I did, before it disappeared behind a grin, "I know. It could be worst. I mean most of us were orphanages, we'd be living on scraps on the street. They adopted us and made us one of their own." Ever since everything happened, the whole economy worldwide turned upside down one of the many consequences was that money wasn't going into orphanages they were starving, orphans, unfortunately, started dropping like flies, murders of innocent children just to get more food around, worldwide governments shut all of them down, some were lucky getting taking in by families that were willing to help b

A lot of it. And truthfully, it disgusted me. With rising populations in the world and lack of government programs, more and more rogues—wolves with no pack to take them in—were cropping up. Many of them would abandon their children in the hopes that orphanages would take them, because growing up as an orphan was better than being forced to wander the world as an outcast forever. He should have been ashamed of himself, stealing from needy children like that. As the wolves in charge of two of the biggest kingdoms in the world, it was our duty to care for our people. Not steal from them to line our own pockets.

Then a pause. “They take the ones who won't be missed loudly enough.” My jaw tightened. “Orphans,”Tobias said quietly. Noah nodded. "And children from families with no influence. No money. No connection.” The words sat heavy in the air. As if those children's lives weren't already hard enough. As if being abandoned, neglected, or unseen wasn't already a burden, They were being taken by deranged animals. Because calling them humans would be a stretch. “For what?” Tobias asked, though his tone suggested he already knew.

Wendy said . “Well, it’s true that I adopt children every year. Not just random children, but children born with the gift of witchcraft. They need guidance and should not be exposed to humans.” Wendy said. “Can I see your books? If the orphanage didn’t record my child because she was never admitted in the first place, you would have, so let me see your books, please. It would be a great start.” West said.

Surprisingly, going to the school for one last time to say my goodbyes was a little easier but bitter; I didn't say Juana, and no one knew what had happened to her or her family; it appeared they had never informed anyone else, so I decided to keep quiet about what I knew; I just hope things improve for them; if I could do anything, I would, but I can't. Apart from that, seeing the children at this orphanage was a severe mood killer; I'm sad, I have terrible anxiety, and I have PTSD, but being surrounded by these orphans simply adds to my suffering, which I'd rather be shot for. Most of the kids in the building I live in are literally unwanted but important, like the two boys eying me like a

When I woke up that morning, I felt like the world was finally my oyster. For most of my life, I endured pain. When I was little, I suffered through the pain of rejection. I was already “too old” when I arrived at the Orphanage. Most couples wanted babies or toddlers: too young to know that they were abandoned, easily raised and molded, no need to tell them where they really came from until they were adults themselves.