Far From Home Novel Novels & Stories

The doctor said I had a hundred days left. I didn't want a miracle. I just wanted one real family portrait. One where I sat dead center, impossible to cut out. I searched through every album in the house. My sister, Yvonne Miller, had her professional glamor shots. My brother, Daxton Miller had his milestone baby portraits. My parents had their framed wedding photo. There wasn't a single picture of just me. I remembered our old family photo from primary school. Mom told me I blinked, so she creased the paper down the middle and folded my side back. After that, I was always placed on the far left or the far right. It made it easier to crop me out. I saved up and booked time a

Though it was the same fight that landed them in a perennial slumber with their powers sealed. Farrah ended up on the flat concreted roof of the chapel standing in the center of two domes. The sun was setting. A coolness descended on the land. The faraway street had a busy line of traffic. It was the end of the day and people were trying to get home. Home. She had no home. A hollow sensation tore at her chest with the desire for one. A whispering breeze flowed around her, whisking up her long, white strands in a slow, swaying dance in the air. She closed her eyes as it caressed her face, driving her distressing thoughts away. She drew a large intake of its freshness, feeling peace.

“Only if you read it out loud.” I raised a brow. “Really?” “Yeah,” he said, pulling me closer. “I like your voice. And I like the way your mouth moves when you’re focused.” I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks heated anyway. I reached over, grabbed the worn novel, and settled back on his chest. He rested one hand on my thigh and the other behind his head, looking completely at peace. I flipped to the first page and started reading. It was a story where a girl leaving a town that no longer felt like home, finding herself in unfamiliar places, learning how to build something new from all the pieces that used to hurt.

**Homecoming** The familiar scent of home—the faint aroma of Claire’s lavender candles, the comforting smell of old wood, and the lingering hint of last night’s rain—filled the air as the Hayes family finally stepped through their front door. Despite the exhaustion from the relentless chase and the constant threat looming over them, the warmth of their home brought a fleeting sense of safety. For the first time in what felt like ages, they were back where they belonged. But the sanctuary of their home was tempered by the reality of the battles still ahead.

The day he passes away, my estranged mother comes back and takes me away, giving me nothing but grief. The aches in my arms remind me of him every day. Dad's fantasy stories of faraway places, wars of species of a different kind, kingdoms fighting for the right to live. Now I was living in one of those stories, except this time, I was just the blood slave with no hope of going back to the place I called home. Home wasn't there anymore. Home was with family, and I obviously didn't have one anymore.

“I am upset. I’m not okay.” “Tell me how you became upset.” I gripped my phone tighter even with my shaking. “Running away is something I realized I’m not good at. I want to come back home, Jacob.” Not really a lie, but not the whole truth. “Come home.” It was more of a plea than a suggestion. “Come home, Farrah.” Home? So does that mean...the Dark Moon Pack survived the Black Sun Pack’s attack? Does that mean my home survived the flames?

Unlike before, where the fields filled with grain, now I can see tall buildings and cars honking here and there. I merge into the traffic as I entered the highway that leads to the ancestral house of my clan. Yes, my forefathers lived in this land, making this place my hometown too. But I wouldn't say I like this place, even for a bit. All I can think of are bad memories. I can't even remember that last time I had a good one. "Seviwood is different than the rest of the province in the region," Marco stated in awe. I nod, agreeing to his statement.

I let out as I closed my eyes and swallowed, "how far away are we from London?" "Pretty far. It's on the other side of the country, Sarafina," she responded, "you really are a long way from home." I let out a heavy breath. She has no idea. ~~~

I thought—maybe they missed me. I left Eva’s estate with my heart wide open, expecting warmth. A reunion. Maybe even love. What I got was ice. My family looked at me like I was a stranger. My mother barely acknowledged me. And the father who once kissed my forehead goodnight? He was silent. Distant. Like I’d imagined every good moment between us. Home wasn’t a home. It was purgatory.

Three years after my release from prison, I ran into my ex-wife in the presidential suite of the most exclusive hotel in Bayshore. It had been years since I last saw her. She was draped in a silk robe, radiating wealth. When she recognized me, something unreadable passed through Cecily Monroe's eyes. "On the day you got out, why didn't you wait for me to come pick you up?" I said nothing and handed over the takeout. Her gaze dropped to the scar on my wrist, and her breath caught. "I went too far with that. But you've always been tougher than Adrian. You can always get back on your feet." She was talking about what happened six years ago, when Adrian Burke was involved in a catastrophic