Far From Home Novel Novels & Stories

Though he was attracted to her, it was not enough to trust her. In the other room, Farhana woke up and lazily stretched her arms. This was comfortable. It felt like home. Though her father had a luxurious home set up for them, she rarely found peace in that big mansion. A home was supposed to be ones safe haven but for her, it felt like a prison where she would be bullied any time.

And then, right in front of him, she extinguished that light over and over again with her own hands. … Winter in Northspire has no snow. Only endless cold rain, and a damp chill that seeps into everything. I rented a small apartment overlooking the sea. Most days, the view beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows was nothing but a gray blur. I canceled my old phone number and cut off every connection to my past. My parents transferred money to me, but I didn't touch it. I lived on the savings I'd accumulated before, allowing myself to truly rest for a while.

“We are home.” The words, so simple and so final, were a painful reminder of the life I had just lost. This was not home. This was a luxurious, beautiful prison. My heart, which had been a beautiful, light, happy thing, was now a painful, aching, broken thing. I pulled my hand away from his, my body a shaking, miserable thing. “Don’t,” I whispered, my voice a broken, painful thing. “Don’t say that. This is not home. My home… my home is a million miles away, and I can’t go back.”

Can I ever have a normal friendship without this sort of hate? Maybe Storm was right to treat me that way, because in this situation I was like Camille. I wouldn't lie and say that the thought of Jaylen and me in bed together hadn't struck me as pleasant. I would blame those filthy thoughts on my smutty book but we were truly just like siblings. And sometimes you have to move away from your family when trying to better your life. I looked at the laptop again. Come home, Nathan said to me. Home was a word that I have never known.

Fortunately, he only suffered from a small fracture in his front left paw. “What are your plans?” Mr. Frank asked. “I’m going to continue traveling and stay as far away from this place as possible.” I was born in this city, but it rejected me. My own family wanted to suck my blood dry. My phone rang at that moment. It was an unknown number. I had blocked all of my family members’ numbers, and since I spoke to some advertisers from time to time, I answered the call. “You’re such an embarrassment! How could I have given birth to someone as horrible as you?! Everyone’s talking behind my back now! Come back right away—”

“Ro can you please come down we need to talk” I hear my mother yell from downstairs. I looked around my room that I’ve only been living in for eight months, I am from a military family, so we move around quite often. We’ve never stayed in a place long enough for my family and I to call it home. I wish I understood what it was like to grow up in a place and have friends that I’ve known longer than a few months, but instead I have many acquaintances that by the time I’m at the next city they don’t remember my name.

I took a step back, putting distance between us. Edward looked dejected. Then, he made a request. "Can you at least let me hug you? I don't even know if she's still alive." Hearing this, I took a deep breath and shook my head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Miles. We're not that close. Aside from our first meeting, we're basically strangers. I don't want my husband to misunderstand us." His eyes dimmed instantly. Faced with my coldness, he could only stand there, looking helpless.

Christmas was the reading of the book. This Christmas, Don's book was a novel—Norwegian, which was not a coincidence, a novel by the same writer whose essays were in the Norway reading programme. The novel was called The Dark Year, and it was about a man who spent a winter alone in a cabin in the far north of Norway, experiencing the full darkness for the first time. Don had been saving it since September, when he had finished the essays. He had placed it on the shelf above his desk, the designated holding place for the Christmas book, and had not opened it once.

Coming home was a bad idea. When I told Jessica Evans, I lived nearby what I meant was an hour away. It's not an uncommon practice for college students to move an hour away. Close to home but far enough away that being an adult feels real. I'm not sure I will ever feel like a real adult with the way my mom takes care of me.

My sister, Nancy Wood, wanted to be the family's only child, so my mother had my name changed and handed my identification documents over to my grandmother. She even told me I had to pay for everything if I wanted to live under their roof. The change and coupons Nancy got from her shopping were the sole source of allowance I'd get. If she saved 30 dollars from her shopping trips, I would get 30 dollars next month. It was the last day for all students to enter their applications for college. I begged my sister to let me use her computer. She extended her hand. "You have to pay me 20 bucks." I fished all the money out of my pocket. I only had 19 dollars. So, I hastily blurted in a panic, "I