Far From Home Novel Novels & Stories

Dawson sat up against his bag and I curled up against his side. “So, how are you doing being so far away from Green Ridge? Has reality set in yet?” “At first it was weird being away from my family. My life has gotten crazy, but at least I haven’t had a lot of time to miss home.” I laughed. Dawson smirked, “that’s not what I meant. Green Ridge is so different from the rest of the world. It’s like they live in their own universe. That’s not a bad thing. I just figured you would have had a couple of eye-openers by now.”

I was the simple-minded fool that General Adelaide Knight had pulled from a pile of corpses on the battlefield. The poison had been too severe. I survived, but my mind never fully recovered. When people hit me or cursed at me, all I ever did was stare blankly and smile. Adelaide took pity on me. She brought me into her home and refused to let anyone mistreat me. She once said, "Reed may be a fool, but he's my whole life." And like a fool, I believed her. For five years, I followed her everywhere like a shadow. Then Fabian Ortega returned to the capital. He looked so much like me that we could almost have been brothers. He'd been poisoned, and none of the doctors knew how to save him. Hi

I'm an avid outdoorsman, while my wife, Gabrielle Jensen, is a homebody through and through. Every time I invite her to outdoor activities like hiking, running, and swimming, she turns me down. "I hate exercising," she says. Later, someone starts an online trend of showing how lazy their girlfriend can be. I film Gabrielle being a couch potato and post it to join the trend. Everyone comments saying how she's a true lazy introvert. Then, one comment catches my eye and freezes me in place. "Isn't that the old pool queen Gabrielle Jensen? She and Caleb Fisher made quite the swimming duo back then. Their relay team brought home more than a few trophies for our school. "They were the golden

We begin swaying to the music as we keep glancing at each other. I have found my happiness and piece of mind even after a lot of struggles. Looking into Gabriel's eyes, I just know it that this is just the beginning of something bigger. I am happy to announce that FADED is a paid story on goodnovel with over 3K views. It honestly means a lit to me as a young writer. I urge you to continue supporting me by reading my other works on my profile. I will be dropping the synopsis and cover in some time. There is still a lot to discover for Lyka and so, don't miss out on book two which I will perhaps be dropping next year.

But the question is--- would she be able to maintain a civil and polite relationship with him, eventhough her heart is beating like crazy everytime she sees her? =========================== Few weeks have passed. Claire is busy packing her clothes in her room. She's busy packing her things for a one-month stay at the the Brentwood Creek, which is where she was born and raised before moving to the big city. She's going back there because they are now going to shoot the movie, which is based from her manuscript. Claire suddenly stopped folding her clothes when the door suddenly bursts open.Her grandfather appeared, looking so excited while holding a newspaper... "Claire, look! You're on the ne

I hated that I couldn’t call for him if I needed him. We’d only been apart a short time, but he had been so far away. It was reassuring having him near. It calmed some part of myself, deep down, that felt strung out by the distance. That part of me hummed happily now. Nicholas held open his arms for me and I immediately went within them. He closed his arms around me and I felt like home again. We stood like that for a very long moment. Out in the living room, I heard Anna waking Elva and shuffling around, cleaning no doubt. She’d worry about having a royal in her apartment.

When she asked her landlady why she had a building in the far corner of the country, she confessed that she used to live there with her husband when he was going though his adventure phrase. Chloe smiled when the landlady fed her stories about her late husband and on the other hand, she felt grateful for the adventures her husband decided to have. Thanks to it, she was far away from civilization. There was more distance between her and the streets that held terrible memories of her past. And, importantly, she was finally far away from the NAG brothers who she still felt guilty towards. Taking a deep sigh as she watched the unexpected rain make patterns on her window, Chloe assured herself th

Once she started she couldn't stop. Meanwhile, in Amor's room, Kenisha was sitting on the bed holding his hand. Her voice was gentle and sweet as she spoke to him. "Amor do you remember the story I would tell you as you were growing up? It's been a long time since I've told you the story right?" He nodded his head just enough for her to see. "Well I think its time you hear it again. Maybe this will help you understand that what your uncle said was a bunch of baloney." Her thumb stroked over the top of his hand. "Long ago, there was a prince and poor village girl that met in another country. The village girl was fascinated by the prince's culture that she worked very hard to learn about it.

"I don't know... it's just... seeing you reminds me of home." Before coming abroad, Claire had complained endlessly about her parents' strict rules and how they stifled her independence. But after six months away with only one brief visit home, the reality of being alone in a foreign country had begun to sink in. When she got sick, there was no mother to make her chicken soup or father to drive her to the doctor—just the cold walls of her apartment and her roommate Michael, who, while helpful, wasn't family. Having Aria around—a familiar face from home—had been comforting. Now that she was leaving, Claire was confronted with a wave of homesickness she hadn't expected.

The prompt was simple—but daunting: Explain in detail where you come from and tell us if your new environment is a lot different, a little different, or just “eh.” She sat cross-legged on her bed, laptop glowing in the dim morning light, and let her fingers hover over the keys. Slowly, she began to type, describing home in vivid detail—the chipped paint on the kitchen walls, the creak of the old porch swing, the way her house was always the gathering place for half the kids in town. She wrote about the comfort in the routine: the scent of coffee and cornbread on Sundays, the sound of her brother’s laughter from the garage, the hum of motorcycles in the distance.