Most Beautiful Homeless Woman Novels & Stories

"Now, folks! Our next one is a 28-year-old female! Outstanding beauty for someone who's been homeless for days! Here she comes~" My interest was piqued by her background. She came in a dirty waitress outfit. A body with good curves and nice skin. The only proof of her being homeless was her dirty waitress uniform. Her pale, ivory face was almost hidden under the dark bob with bangs. When I looked closely, I saw her trembling hands and wrists bleeding because of the cuffs. She's overly fragile yet absurdly brave. For such a frail girl to still be fighting to survive after being mistreated by fate so much earned her my satisfaction.

The street was glittering from the beautiful Christmas decorations that adore every house and shop. It must feel nice to belong to one of those happy families behind closed doors, sharing laughter and the holiday spirit with people who love and genuinely care for you. But here I was roaming the street with the hope of getting something to eat, even a dry bread at this moment would taste like chicken fries. I was alone, hungry, and homeless. My name is Rebecca Sally and I am sixteen years old. I have been homeless for the past nine months. My story is quite a depressing one, it's not your regular story of beautiful girls and boys falling in love or peeps that were born with magical powers.

How pitiful! She is literally homeless!

Maybe they just moved out to the cheaper one around here? Okay, this will be my last turn. I’ll just try to call them. Let’s see if they- wait, why does that beggar looks… familiar? I squinted my eyes, trying to get a clearer view of the girl. There’s a girl in t-shirt, sitting on the snowy street. She doesn’t even wear any coat or scarf. She could freeze to death. In front of her, there’s a carton with ‘Homeless & Hungry’ written on it. I saw a glimpse of her face as she lifted her head up when someone put money on the bowl.

The woman nodded, but didn’t say anything, her gaze following Katie. Katie stopped. She knew the look in the woman’s eyes. Mistrust. Desperation. She must be one of the town’s homeless. Katie had experienced homelessness more than a few times and could spot it as easily as she could tell the woman hadn’t showered in several weeks—or months.

The streets were cruel. Christiana had nowhere to go. No money, no food, no idea what tommorow would bring. She walked for hours,her arms wrapped tightly around Praise, who was in deep sleep. Every step felt heavier, her legs barely able to carry her. She passed by Restaurants,their bright lights and warm air spilling onto the streets, mocking her. She could perceive food,rich dishes that made her stomach hungry and twist in agony. Her last meal had been when? She couldn't even remember. Desperation clawed at her throat. She needed help. But who would help her now? She used to have clients who threw money at her feet,but those days were gone. No man wanted a woman with a child,espe

She looked at the makeshift bedding beneath them, made of nothing but torn cardboard and filthy old newspapers… All the dignity and superiority she had once held were shattered in that instant. Yet the instinct to survive still pushed her forward, step by step. She saw a spot near one of the bridge piers that seemed to be empty. A few flattened pieces of cardboard were laid out there. They looked relatively dry. She dragged herself with her injured foot. She had just started to lie down there when a dark shape suddenly jerked upright beside her. It was a homeless man, his face covered with grime, his hair messy, his age impossible to guess. He shoved her hard, knocking her to the ground.

She finished her story, and I turned to the third woman, hoping to hear her tale. "Well," she began, clearing her throat. "I don’t have a sad story like yours. I was arrested for begging in front of government property. I was released a few days later, but I refused to leave because I was tired of being homeless. Prison offered free shelter and, most importantly, free food." She concluded, and everyone burst into laughter. "I’m Jemma," she said, introducing herself. The red-haired joined in. “I’m Naomi.” “Elizabeth.” The second, added.

It showed the dirty street below, in front of the hotel. At the center sat a woman in a tattered sari, which had probably been white once, uncombed hair, dirty face, and hands. Next to her sat a small boy, eating dirt, mud around his lips, flies hovering around both of them – the perfect picture, for who doesn't like poverty, hunger, dirt, sadness, and beauty all rolled into one!

Jonea crosses an underground pedestrian bridge that is mainly inhabited by homeless people. The girl gives out free milk every morning to the homeless. She stopped at a group of homeless people huddled under their sleeping bags and blankets. Jonea places a carton of milk next to the head of a homeless person who sleeps, wearing nothing but a cardboard blanket. The girl felt pity. She couldn't see the man's face because it was hidden by his long matted hair. "Go to the social shelter for the winter. At least you can get free sweaters and blankets there."