My Humble Abode Novels & Stories

I gazed everywhere, still amazed at how magnificent it was. "Wow! I never knew there could be any pack as magnificent as this," I said, my eyes wide open. "I know, right! This is our humble hive," he said. "Humble? This is nowhere near humble, Mr. Jerome..." I muttered. "What do you mean?" He laughed. *****

{Abebi} I sat on the porch, the warm breeze gently brushing against my face. I couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness. The street was quiet, as it usually was, but today it seemed even more deserted than usual. The only person I had in this whole neighborhood was my dear friend Ada, and I cherished every moment we spent together. Ada, with her beautiful chocolate skin, had been my rock through thick and thin. We had shared countless secrets, dreams, and aspirations, making our bond unbreakable. I could always count on her to brighten my day, even in the darkest of times.

We got to his house faster than I expected and I was a bit pleased to discover that his place was not quite far from mine. His apartment was cozy and tastefully furnished with cream paintings and well decorated walls. The whole place screamed class and the art paintings on the wall said the same too. "Welcome to my humble abode." He said, placing enough emphasis on "humble." I laughed quietly and then responded; "Your house is beautiful and trust me, there's nothing humble about this place." I replied and he flashed a smile in return, sat on the cushion and started untying his shoe lace, apparently in a bid to pull it off.

I needed to pack my things so we could leave for the Cuban Mansion. It’s time for me to play my part. “It’s terrible you live like this.” He wrinkled his nose with his eyes expecting the worn-out furniture, old rugs, and the cracked walls. I’ve never been more ashamed of my living situation than now. The World’s Adrian Cuban is in my freaking house! I felt so small and insignificant. “Won’t you offer me a glass of water?” “Umm.. I’ll be right back.” I dashed off to the kitchen, got him bottled water and turned it into a glass.

Caleb's house was just the same as any other, he wanted it this way, so he would show his people he didn't think of himself as worthy of more luxury than them. His particular touches; he had it painted dark brown and fences were black, the modern style inside was simple yet comfortable, he had everything needed and then more. Living Room with a comfortable couch and flat screen TV, a fireplace that was lovely, decorated on top with pictures of him and his parents. He had two bathrooms, a bedroom for guests, and his master bedroom was completely him. The bed was rounded and filled with cushions, silks, and warmth. I asked him on my second day there how he managed to keep all of the electricit

they all look happy " one love , unity , greatness and prosperity to us .THE ADAMS now and for ever " I I read the tag below the portrait and I smile . " NOW AND FOR EVER " I mumbled those words while starring at the portrait . after taking my bath and cream my skin with the oil given to me by one of the maids .a knock landed on the door "who..who's there " I ask " sorry to disturb you miss but a here to give you your cloths "I heard Jericho voice outside .I open he door and he walked in ,he placed the dress on the bed then turn to me with a light smile

Abbey stroked his ponytail to his right shoulder with a cough and clasped his hands behind his back then went in thinking he’d scaled through this one. While inside Abbey’s home. “What happened at the child’s institute of thought today, son.” Abbey smiled with a stretched hands to his child playing with wooden toys around his beautiful home. A place where most Humane dreamed of living. Well furnished with colorful walls, furniture and dazzling tiles that affixed the floor in a remarkable way.

I took in my surroundings while I tried to recall everything that happened. It seems like I’m in a cottage that somehow managed to not fall apart. The word ‘cottage’ is a little fancy to describe this ‘house’, but the said “house” comprises mixed materials. Some parts of the walls are branches of trees tied together, while the others comprise bamboo or wooden scraps. There’s no flooring but only the dirt ground itself. Old clothes that are sewn together served as my blanket and curtains (that served as the door), and a pile of clothes as my pillow. This is some low-level poverty shit happening here. I can’t even call this a house. Fuck those billionaires when people are forced to “live” like

a symbol of our camaraderie. Exiting the Thompsons' impressive residence, a mansion almost as splendid as our own, I hopped into my sleek Luminux Lumber and began my journey home. Thoughts of Little-angel, a name that seemed to creep into my mind at the most unexpected moments, resurfaced. I playfully smacked my forehead, wondering why I couldn't shake thoughts of her. It seemed absurd—me, daydreaming about a housekeeper. I couldn't help but laugh at the idea, knowing the Joes would have a field day teasing me if they ever found out.

It was a humble abode with a charm that was starkly different from the skyscrapers of New York but equally captivating. Vincent, noticing her foreign attire and subtle disorientation, assumed she was a traveller who had lost her way. As a perfect gentleman, he offered her his hospitality. His home was simple, the walls adorned with beautiful paintings, and the atmosphere filled with the scent of dried lavender and paint. His world was so vastly different from hers, yet there was an inexplicable comfort that Abigail found in the tranquillity of his home and his kind demeanor.