Far From Home Novel Novels & Stories

Where was that place located? I knew we weren't in the country…I knew I was miles away. So far away that I could choose to start a new life if I actually had the money to do so. “I just…” My voice trembled, all of my emotions spilling out. “...I don't want to go home,” Roman stilled, blue eyes boring into mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a few beats. His eyes were so…beautiful. “Something tells me you know how that feels…”

__________________ Sinclair When this war began I told myself that when I finally came home, it would be to defeat Damon once and for all. It isn’t easy to come to terms with the fact that I’m going to be returning to Vanara in only a few hours, especially not when I see the throngs of bodies clamoring to board the planes when we land. My family is a thousand miles away, which hurts to no end, but at least I know that I’m doing what’s best for them no matter the distance. It feels different to turn my back on my people when they languish here alone, for how can I do what’s best for them when I’ve escaped and they still live in fear?

He nodded and kicked his destrier into a gallop, and he rode straight to the Bellamont dwelling. *** Fara had spent the day catching up on reading the books her uncle had never allowed her to read. After examining Utopia, she began to think about society and how chaotic the haute monde really was. Why was she always coerced into doing the right thing because of social norms? Though her relationship with Grant was less than conventional, it was the only thing in her life she felt she had any decision about at all.

But I knew it hadn’t. Over the past three years, the time Cicio Russo spent alone with me had grown shorter and predictably shorter. He would rather stay in the grand study, where he dealt with all his family business, facing those dull shelves with bulky books, than come home to be with me and my everlasting warm company. The meals I reheated again and again, the lights that stayed on night after night—it all felt like they were telling me: He was not coming back. One night, Cicio came home late and paused for a moment when he stepped through the door.

“For sending him back the way I could love him from afar.” She folded the note carefully, tucked it into her journal, and started walking home. Her heart felt heavy, but no longer hollow. Behind her, the waves erased her footprints again one last time. Far away, in another town, Liam stood outside a bookstore window. Inside, on display, was The Art of Staying Gone her book. He didn’t go in. He didn’t need to. He simply stood there for a while, watching strangers pick it up, leaf through it, smile softly.

I said, she nodded, still staring at me with surprised eyes. I walked outside my house, and jumped inside my car, I turned up the music, and started to hum along with the song. I was really trying my best to keep my mind away from Anthony, but he still there, even though he was thousands miles away, but he wouldn’t leave my mind.

"I'm grateful to have Nigel's love because I love him too and I don't want to lose him. But you're wrong. I'm not living in a fairytale. I have his love, but I lack almost everything else. My family has no money or status, and I have only one parent left, who I'm slowly losing to work. We don't have a home, only the shelter we find here, and I have no plans for college because I can't afford it. I can't leave my dad alone here as he would work himself to death trying to provide for both of us. You probably have your own problems, but you also have money, and money happens to be the root of most of my problems. So, princess, you may think I'm living the dream, but you have no idea but I guess

'In the Woods' by Tana French. I go to my usual spot in the far corner of the library. It has a bay window overlooking the breathtaking Miami scenery. Our house resides near the sea, and we need to drive for about ten minutes to get to the main road that leads to Miami. I like being far away from the city because I don't like girls swooning over me and trying to get my number. I love to look at the city from afar. It is much more relaxing.

It was a humble abode with a charm that was starkly different from the skyscrapers of New York but equally captivating. Vincent, noticing her foreign attire and subtle disorientation, assumed she was a traveller who had lost her way. As a perfect gentleman, he offered her his hospitality. His home was simple, the walls adorned with beautiful paintings, and the atmosphere filled with the scent of dried lavender and paint. His world was so vastly different from hers, yet there was an inexplicable comfort that Abigail found in the tranquillity of his home and his kind demeanor.

But since then, the gates were never breached again, not even during the great war. Snowlandia, my home. I swore to protect it with every inch of my being and I was ready to lay down my life without question, that is the way of a true warrior. We were under attack, and the enemies were inside the gate of the city. I was no stranger to battle, and although my father always said "A real warrior never craves battle, for he is well aware of the sacrifices that come with it," I sometimes crave battle, but it was one thing to fight an enemy, and it's another thing to fight them in my city, in my home. "Stay the hell in your position, or the dragons will mistake you for an enemy and burn you to ash