Louisiana's Way Home Novels & Stories

The flight from Southvale to Lisbourn was not long, but for Ray Simpson, it carried a weight that had nothing to do with distance. He had not been home in months, not because he was unable to make the trip, but because he had actively chosen to stay away. As the car pulled through the long, gated driveway of the Simpson estate, Ray leaned back in his seat and fixed his eyes on the familiar structure ahead. The mansion stood exactly as he remembered it: grand, composed, and untouched by time. It did not offer a welcome; it simply existed, waiting. When the car finally came to a stop, Ray remained still for a brief moment before stepping out.

I take this opportunity to be close to my mom since I didn’t get a chance to make her feel better before. When we wake up in the morning, we all just get ready and get back on the road. Again, I started off with my mom and then after a couple hours I was back with my brother. This last stretch felt like forever and that we were never going to get to where we were going. Then finally after hours I finally could smell the farms, and the breeze felt different when I rolled my window down. There it was I could see the sign ‘Welcome to Wimberley!’

He uttered these three words coldly, then turned and entered the ward. Wayne, who was following closely behind Absalom, promptly closed the ward door and stood aside to protect Absalom’s safety. Luna glanced at Wayne and muttered as she left, “Lackey!” - Meanwhile, Harmonia went to Louis’s office at Marshtown Studio. “Were you the one who made the arrangements for the banner and rain shelter?” Harmonia got straight to the point. Louis shook his head and confessed, “It was all Mr. Martinez’s idea.” Harmonia remained silent, blinking her long, curled eyelashes.

She had heard Meredith mention that Shawn worked at Toussaint Holdings. "Oh, don't speak for him." After that, Meredith scanned the living room. The originally small space was kept clean and tidy. Several potted plants were placed on the balcony, adding some vitality to the somewhat desolate home. Coming out of her room, Layla handed a stack of cash to Meredith. "I was planning to bring this over to you tomorrow. But since you're here, I won't have to make an extra trip." After a while, Meredith was ready to leave with the box of hush puppies.

But now, both of us crossing into our thirties, being together again felt like finding our childhood selves. The road into the village had already been paved. A few scattered tourists were taking photos and checking in along the way. I thought about the huge sum that had just landed in my account and wondered where best to invest it. Before I finished thinking, we arrived home. Grandma came out smiling. I hugged her and cried hard in her arms. She patted my back and said, "My girl, don't cry. I can live another hundred years." I nodded. "This time, I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay with you."

“Sever, welcome home.” “This time, you’re never allowed to leave again.”

No cold memories. Only a quiet darkness and the faint scent of blossoms. Just before landing, I woke up. Jade was looking at me. The light from the window fell softly across her face, and in her eyes I could see a small, peaceful reflection of myself. "We're almost there, Julian," she said gently, taking my hand. "We're going home." "Mm," I replied, lacing my fingers through hers. The plane broke through the clouds and descended steadily toward Northspire Bay, glittering like a field of stars beneath the night sky.

Damien sent the driver to pick me up from my parents earlier today. Just three nights away from home and I already miss this place. I missed Damien. It was a while before I went to bed yesterday. I'd tossed and turned and reached out for him but he wasn't there. Immediately, I stepped into the house, I was greeted with silence. I dropped my bag on the cream sofa and made my way to the kitchen. Mrs Rose came up behind me. "Welcome home Mrs Forrest"

The loud speakers of the 404; linked to the Radio weren't chanting an old ballad or ditty, neither was a pop music or jazz booming out of the speakers, no, the solemn, low-pitched voice of a broadcaster were emanating and it said, "... We're sorry to cut off Mike Callingways' 'Trumpeter's Heart' just as it was climbing up to its zenith, but it reached our Station this morning - that there have been whimsical weather changes all over Wabrook and its surrounding countries. One being in HH on Saturday afternoon. Therefore, we will admonish that everyone goes about with at least, a mini flashlight - which goes for about fifteen Earthian Grerode, an umbrella and at least update their loved ones o

There were tears and hugs and promises to call and text, then she waved as the two men—one of clay, the other of flesh and blood, both now a part of her extended family—faded into the distance. “Do you mind turning the radio on?” she asked her driver. As he did, Jeannine smiled and then asked him to turn up the volume. It was Curtis’s favorite tune—a song about Fat Tuesday that made him feel like he was home, even when halfway around the world. She took it as a good sign, and she made a promise to herself to return here to New Orleans as soon as possible. She opened the window and felt the heat and humidity of home. “Driver,” she said. “There is an extra twenty in it for you if you step on t