Khali Ghar Novels & Stories

Congealed grease clung to my skin, and the room filled with the stench of spoiled food. I pressed my lips together and stood frozen as the filthy liquid dripped onto the floor, forming a small puddle around my feet. The ceiling light flickered, splitting and rejoining the reflections on the floor. I looked at the closed bedroom door, and grief rose inside me. I knocked. "Chloe, open the door. We need to talk." Her muffled, furious voice came from beneath the blankets. "I have nothing to say to you! All you care about is money!

Serafina hadn't been to this estate since her wedding day, and even looking at it now, a wave of nostalgia hit her. It was a beautiful mansion with cream walls and Greek columns, windows on almost every side, and was generally surrounded by well-kept lush green grass and flowers, but given the snowfall, it was surrounded by fields of white. Unlike Salvatore's estate, it was much smaller and had only two floors with a single basement. Being rectangular in shape, it wasn't divided into wings, but there were certain rooms which had been kept closed off to the public when the Costa's resided here.

That entire land was belonging to the bank now, and all of the residents had been evicted. Mpumi spotted one of the few empty houses. The house wasn’t hers. She broke the lock and went in. That was her decision, that house belonged to them for the time being. There was no furniture in the house—only a kitchen-sink, bath-tub, and a toilet. They were very lucky to have had electricity.

Nala Remember the training by 5 pm He smiled after reading Nala's text and went back right into trying to do what his dad told him to do. He started by trying to fix himself a meal. On opening the Refrigerator, "ugh, not again" he was disappointed at finding just cheese in it again. His dad made sure to leave him with enough pocket money, so he couldn't complain about the meal at home. He reminisced about the wonderful night he had at Ben's, he missed being around happy faces and eating good food. He couldn't stay home till 5 pm, the school was going to dismiss by 4, so he needed to keep himself busy till then. But he had no friends, he stopped playing chess after his mother's death so that

But she was sharp enough to grasp that something was not right until a silver arrow materialized from her sight. Malaika immediately ducked, and thankfully, it didn’t hit her. Her sight reached a man running at a rusty roof on the third floor of one building a few meters away from her. “Never show your eyes just like that, young lady. A lot of Escape Hunters roam around here in Ethera. You can’t hide the fact you are from Hala.” “How did you know? The halan people are usually golden-eyed.”

It was meant as an unassuming chat, void of any hidden agenda. However, James unexpectedly offered, "The house opposite mine is up for rent. I can inquire if you're interested." Describing the property's dimensions and location—comparable to his own home—he piqued her interest. The prospect was alluring, yet her worries persisted… "Is the neighborhood where you live quite pricey?" Rowan felt a tinge of awkwardness. "You know, I don't exactly have a huge budget." James grinned and reassured her, "The owner isn't looking to rent out the house for financial gain. Due to some personal reasons, he's been away and the place needs attention. He values reliability and cleanliness over money. Don't w

They wanted to check whether the rumor was true or not. “Hello, Chocolate. My name is Sherly. I belong to the Hendrix pack. My father owns the GIier electronics.” The other women introduced themselves one after another. But Chocolate didn’t look back and fixed her gaze at North. When the women finished introducing themselves, Chocolate responded. “I felt like stepping on sh*t.” The women had their eyes wide open. They were wondering if they heard Chocolate right.

She was not able to produce a sound. "Let's go to our room," And Alizeh fainted. *** The evening had sprawled in the sky. Sun had set behind the jagged Alborz mountain, a golden hue in the surroundings was visible. The narrow alleways of the old market hustled and bustled. People running into each other. The scent of cardamom, tobacco, and baked bread was filled in the air. Street vendors almost shouting the names of the items they were selling. Tucked between two aging brick buildings, almost invisible to a passing outsider, was a chai khaneh; a tea house as old as the alley itself. It was owned by an old man, Agha Hossein.