Homeless Youth Stories Novels & Stories

Pennyless and lacking option on how to return to Scotland to continue working for the Russian Oligarch, they began squatting in the streets of Texas. Weeks of being homeless and out in the cold street made their mother to develop pneumonia and it didn’t take long for her to leave them. The boys had to survive on their own. The Child Protective Services (CPS) took them and put them in separate foster homes which I didn’t want. Hence, they ran from there. The second time they were picked off the street by the CPS they got lucky enough to be put under the same parent. A women in her forties.

She’s starving. She’s trying to save as much money as she can. She knew this would happen, but she was not expecting it to happen this soon. Ciara Cabral was kicked out by her mother when she turned sixteen. Now, she’s homeless. She thought she has more time. She thought they would at least wait until her eighteenth birthday before throwing her out on the streets. Oh, how could she be so wrong? She was caught off-guard. She was unprepared.

Even if their own lives weren't going well, they still liked to help others. Penny grew up in a loveless family. During the day, she saw someone similar to herself, which was Cecilia. Now, at night, she encountered a homeless teenager. She couldn't help but categorize him the same as Cecilia and herself. He was probably from another disagreeable family and got kicked out. Or maybe, he ran away on his own. Since Penny didn't receive a reply from the young man, she continued, "It's cold at night. You should find a place to stay. It's not good to just lean on the bench."

His formerly colorful home had become a gloomy graveyard, and his world had fractured into pieces. He was nine years old when he returned to the streets, unable to tolerate the restriction of the orphanage. For survival, he joined a local gang, and his innocence was rapidly overtaken by the harsh reality of the streets. His tumultuous adolescence was characterized by repeated run-ins with the law and many attempts to escape from orphanages.

His eyes stared blankly into space as he mainly focused on her voice. “I once read somewhere that the darkest part of the night is when it’s almost dawn. I don’t really know your story, but I actually see hope in your situation. Look at me, I didn’t have a home when I got here. I slept on a train. I slept in public toilets. I slept outside. I got cold. I got attacked. I got robbed. I came with only me. I wanted to give up. Little did I know I’d find this job and it pays well. I have saved enough.”

Red finished. "Me too. I . . . I'm just glad I could be there for him." "You are too wonderful," Red said. "Do you think he was telling the truth? About those men?" "Yeah. I mean, sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction, ya know? And sometimes . . . sometimes the people that see the most are the ones most people don't care about enough to hide from. You could probably get someone to go to some homeless shelters and shantytowns. Homeless people have their own territories and stuff, and there's a lot of drug addiction. If these guys are peddling something so they can feed this 'dark thing,' they . . . what?"

“When I was seventeen years, my father told me to learn the essence of life and start helping myself, he cut me off from the family and threw me out in the streets. He told me that I had no entitlement to his riches until I made a name for myself, that he was not going to harbor a silver spoon child when he went through thick and thin to get to where he was. As a kid who had lost everything in one day, all my bank accounts frozen and my money taken from me, I needed a quick way to earn money to get back on my feet and prove to my father that I was worth every penny.” he paused to know if she was listening and her eyes was pinned on him every moment. “I began sleeping under the bridge like ev

“You managed all that by yourself, Luna. Your story is amazing. That’s impressive, especially as a kid.” I smile, but it’s tinged with a little sadness. “I left home when I was fourteen. We were so young, living in a tent,” I chuckle, and she joins in. “I’d pick up odd jobs—gardening, cleaning—people were quick to hire a kid. That’s how I kept us both fed. We moved from city to city. A year ago, we ended up here, and for once, we each had our own apartment. We didn’t have to live together just to survive.” “Do you know Dante’s story yet?” she asks, her curiosity clear.

"Always." "My parents were rogue immigrants. They came to this territory with nothing. My father did the books for a small pack warehouse, and my mother was a seamstress for the local wolves. We lived in a cramped apartment above a corner store. We were happy until the Graves family decided they needed that block for a new training facility. Trent McGrath—your ex-father-in-law—personally signed the eviction notices. They foreclosed on our building and twenty others. We were on the street overnight. The Council took me and my sister away from my parents for two years because they were 'homeless and unfit.' It broke my mother's spirit." I reached out, my hand covering his heart. "Rowan, I’m so

It started when I was ten. My best friend, Leah, was homeless. She was homeless with her mother, Molly, and her younger brother, Trey. They were thrown onto the street with nowhere to go because Leah's father, Paul, had come home so drunk that he let his temper get the best of him once again. He hit Molly and knocked her out for a few hours. He pushed her against a wall with such force she passed out. She hit her head on the edge of a picture frame and folded in a heap on the ground. Paul tripped over her sprawling body and fell with a crash to the ground. He lay on the ground next to her for hours, passed out from the liquor.