Haunted Orphanage Novels & Stories

Rain had been falling since dawn, a slow, cold drizzle that soaked into the roof tiles of the old orphanage and whispered through the halls like voices trying to be heard. Mrs. Moira moved down the corridor with a flickering flashlight, her back already aching from a night with no sleep. The children had been restless again—some waking up screaming, others sleepwalking toward the locked front doors, eyes open but seeing something that wasn't there. She stopped in front of Room 6.

We stepped out. The sight in front of us stole the little breath I had left. Hope Orphanage. Nothing had changed. Not even the sadness in the bricks. The old paint still peeled off the cracked walls. The faded signboard still hung crooked. The same hollow quietness wrapped the building like a curse. In that moment, a memory slammed into me, the weight of a tiny baby wrapped in a blanket, my hands trembling as I sneaked through the gate twenty three years ago. That sin still echoed in my ears.

She replied as they got into Jada's car and headed for the orphanage. As Lyra and Jada made their way to the orphanage, the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the empty streets. The air was thick with anticipation, and Lyra's heart raced with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. She couldn't help but feel a sense of duty as she took her first steps into this unknown world of the orphans. Arriving at the orphanage, Lyra was struck by its humble exterior. The building stood tall, its bricks weathered by time, yet emanating a certain warmth and resilience. The sound of children's laughter and playful chatter filled the air, providing a comforting backdrop to the fading daylight.

She had a different one almost every time I'd seen her. Ashton gave my shoulder a squeeze as I walked past him and began to follow the fae. The orphanage here wasn't like what I had been used to in the human worlds. We weren't cramped and in squalor. It looked more like a dormitory with lots of windows, plants, and natural light. In a lot of areas in this herd tall trees hung over the place blocking harsh sunrays and the fae flocked to it to laze about the day.

Memories of that faithful day at the orphanage. The dark, creaky bunk beds. The peeling paint. The smell of old food and sweaty kids. The kids were cruel. They laughed at my hand-me-down clothes. They pushed me around. Called me names. Stole my things. But the caretakers were worse. Mrs. Horton was cold and mean, always yelling. She used to twist kids’ ears and make them stand outside in the rain if they "talked too much" or were being ‘naughty’. No one helped me. No one stood up for me. I learned to stay quiet. To hide and survive alone

“I didn’t give him the opportunity to give you any information that Declan may have had. The Luna of the Orphans, the oldest child living in that hell house is my mate. She contacted me in a panic attack over Micah and his sister after she gave them to Declan. She knows the support needed to get him through this type of poisoning doesn’t exist in her pack. She doesn’t trust me or my pack but we are all she has.” I shiver as a cold breeze sweeps down the main path reminding me of where we are. I’m staring down the slim path that we created and named The Blue Ridge path as it leads directly into their territory. It’s the sounds of a motor starting in the distance that snaps me out of my daze a

I said as he finally Infront of a New place. It's not a village acutely, it more looks like. " That's the orphanage, when I kept on running, hiding, I always come here " Looks haunted. " I don't care " I said folding my arms as he let me stand on my feet. " You can stay angry on me Hazel, but wherever I go " He said grabbing my hand to look into my eyes. " You go " ......................... To be continued

They will clean the fountain. In a few days, a week tops, this town will be livable. “Where are we taking the human children?” Weiland asks. I look at Em who is standing as close to the pyre as she can get, watching her abductors burn to ash and bone. “There is a human orphanage fifty kilometers from here,” I inform them. “I sent some Omegas ahead to check it out. They say the adults are gone. They found the bodies in the compost pits.”

The kind that very likely led to Masha's death and my son's orphaning. We turn onto a tree-lined street, and suddenly there it is. The orphanage rises before us like something out of a Disney movie. Red brick with white trim, manicured gardens, children's toys scattered across a fenced playground. It looks safe. Wholesome. Everything I'm not. "This is it," the driver says, pulling up to the curb. I reach into my pocket and pull out a wad of cash, peeling off several hundreds. The driver's eyes widen when he sees the amount.

“You blamed another kid for it.” Her eyes widened slightly. “That was one time.” Aaron looked at her quietly. And for one brief moment— the weight surrounding them disappeared. No conspiracies. No Victor. Just two children who found each other long before they understood loss. ⸻ Then Daniel’s voice interrupted gently. “We should move.” Reality crashed back instantly. ⸻ Inside, the orphanage felt frozen in time. Old photographs still lined the walls. Hand-painted drawings. Wooden benches. The faint scent of old books and polish.