Outcast In Society Novels & Stories

The village was usually a great place to live. Each person treated their neighbor like family, and just like family most were very close to each other. That was why no one would ever want to be an outcast in the village. Everyone, and by that I mean everyone, would disregard an outcast. The thing about being surrounded by people who were as close as family members was, once you offended one of them, you offended them all.

It would also be the first time I would have been given any responsibility beyond polishing scruffy shoes or washing laundry. “Okay,” I said, agreeing. “Okay?” “Okay!” I echoed. “She said okay!” yelled Lee, and the rest of the outcasts began to yelp with joy. Sighing, I pretended not to hear them, taking a walk. I needed to figure out where we were going from this point on. We needed to find a secluded place to live, so we would be safe from the outside world. We had been rejected from entire societies, and it had been made more than obvious that we were not wanted. All of us were good at self-defense and keeping each other safe, so it would have to be a place that accommodated that.

That was the reason why Charles swore like a pagan never to marry any rough girl. Charles understood that his parents had warned him seriously not to marry any outcast or a criminal. They warned him also not to marry a prostitute because they detested prostitution. They considered a prostitute to be equivalent to a criminal. His father in particular had warned him and told him that if a man marries an outcast or any street class, she would bring ill fortune to the entire family, and that she would abridge the prosperity and destiny of the husband, and in other words, nobody knew if she would bear children to her husband. Most often the husband would die during her courtship or after their we

Maria asked utterly confused looking over to me with a hint of shock at my reaction, where I nodded my head allowing those terrified tears to spill from my eyes while Leo, held my hands so tightly keeping me seated on the sofa. “Yes! If a rogue ever went to see a nurse or a doctor… they never came back! I have had friends who were sick with a simple illness, were taken to a nurse, pumped with some kind of poison and ended up dying! Y-you don’t understand, all of you have been raised in luxury and care… I’ve had the very opposite! All they see us as is disgusting, contaminated, contagious messes who destroy the world and need to be removed.” I began to ramble screwing up my face at the end, i

"Who were those people- err demons?" His lips twitched at my error, "They are outcasts. As in people from different Hell who don't want to follow the royalty and system. They are free to do whatever they want in the land we, Kings or Queens give them. That's why we don't have much authority over them." "Even though we share boundaries, they don't have any respect for us. In a way, you can call them radicals." I licked my lips, "So they are like people on earth who hate the government"

In fits and starts, I wrote about the quiet bitterness of those on the margins of society and the moments they were made to feel invisible. One day, I typed out, "In that lavish estate, all the applause and spotlight belonged to them. I was nothing more than a superfluous ornament—fit only to stand in the shadows and watch in silence." That post went viral without any warning. Within moments, tens of thousands of comments flooded in. Countless people wrote that my words mirrored their own feelings of being abandoned by their family. As I read those comments, I suddenly felt like crying. It wasn't because the post had gone viral, but because I finally realized just how many people out there w

The one thing all outliers now fear instead of seeking. Sure mates still exist and people still find them, but not out here. Not in the slums of the city where the unwanted laborers lay. Nah, we aren’t good enough for love and happiness. Be it our misfortune of standing up for what we believe or who our parents are, we are outcasts stuck on the outskirts. I stay for my dad, others stay for their family members or their mates that have been taken just out of reach.

Different occasions. The Outcasts celebrated a bonded mate's happiness. A supposedly rebel group who will sacrifice their lives for the future of the Omegas. And here are some of the lives they will be saving, cheering for their destruction. How unfortunate.

The scars of being ostracized and belittled for circumstances beyond his control remained etched in his memory, an indelible mark on his psyche that haunted him even within the confines of his prison cell. The pain of being an outcast, the anguish of feeling inadequate, and the despair of being the constant target of ridicule weighed heavily on Ejay's soul. His upbringing in poverty had shaped his perspective, fueling an unrelenting drive for success, an ambition born from the ashes of his past struggles.

He laughed, the sound making my insides feel a tad weird but in a way it felt nice. "I was clearly busy at the time," I began, my hand indicating my room and the apartment before us. "So there was no time to ask questions on whether anyone resided here, spirit wise that is." I gave a small grin. "Plus I didn't know what to say." "Based upon my observation you," Jem said with a light chuckle. "Cora," he said, brushing his fingers across my cheek. His touch was cool and still semi-solid. "Didn't you have any loyal friends to rely on growing up?" I shook my head to tell him no because in some way I always remained the outcast of anyone that I befriended. A loner who believed that trusting other