The Road Home Novel Novels & Stories

“Maybe it’s a great thing that he isn’t here anymore and he wouldn’t suffer the bullying.” “Maybe.” Hera turned the book in line with her eyesight. Then she shuffled the sides of the pages and saw something in between the pages. “What is this?” “Hera, is that you daddy?” Cyril squinted his eyes to see who the person on the corner of the street was. “Huh?” Hera did the same thing as she closed the book and placed it back inside of her bag. “I think that’s your daddy,” Cyril said. His hand automatically waved at the person.

I prayed to God to help me reach home safe Like an answer to a prayer, God is always faithful. Dear reader, I reached home safely. I paid the motorcycle fare and requested him to keep the change. The gentleman was so kind enough to wait for me open the gate and ensured I was in safe. I thanked him and wished him a safe journey. Since God had helped me through this night strugglr, I had to run for my life away from this possessive relationship . Minutes home, I kindly switched off my phone but couldn't sleep. I kept thinking of how rude, arrogant, inconsiderate he had been. Icould not imagine moving forward with the relationship.

Good night. I put my phone away and started my car. I drove out of the territory and down the road towards the highway. I switched on the radio and enjoyed some soft country for the ride home. Home. It’s weird. I have my own home on the outskirts of town and yet Victor and my dad kept referring to the packhouse as my home. Maybe a long time ago, but now, it was just a place from my past that held a dark memory. Maybe in the future, I’ll see it differently but for now, it will remain just a memory.

*********************************** LIAM We just landed back in our quiet home town of South Carolina. Except the airport is anything but quiet right now. Reporters line the baggage claim and taxi area, snapping photos and asking personal questions. "No comment." I reply for the hundredth time, as I grab my duffle bag and sling it over my shoulder.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. I’ll Be Home for Christmas (A Thorntons Christmas Novella) Published by Blue Violet Press LLC Seattle, Washington Copyright © 2017 by Iris Morland Cover design by Resplendent Media All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for

And somewhere far ahead— deep within the darkness— something answered. A light. Tiny. Distant. Faint. But unmistakably real. The entire crew froze. The light flickered once. Then again. Not Mira's lantern. Not the Wayfinder. Something else. Something farther down the forgotten road. The darkness held its breath. The travelers stood together at the bow. Watching. Waiting. Hoping. And for the first time in centuries— the road to Lumora answered back. End of Book One ✨ To Be Continued in Book Two: The City Beyond the Broken Road

"No. I can't. I must return home. Bella isn't home to watch over my kids, who are the only ones home. After saying good-bye, she departed. October stepped into her car, buckled herself up, and sped away from the mansion. She drove into the roads and made her way home. By this time of night, there weren't many cars on the road. It was almost midnight when she looked at the time. She made a one-way turn while keeping her eyes firmly fastened on the road. There's a good reason why this route is always described as desolate. This road is not frequently traveled because it is a fatality hotspot. She was unaware that it was also rumored to have been cursed. She continued to drive, hoping to arrive

"They do that, sometimes. The lost ones. When they've nowhere left to run, when they've something worth protecting — they turn around, and they come home. Don't give up on your looking, boy. The wind changed this morning. I felt it too." I stared at him. *He felt it too.* And down in my chest the wolf lifted his head and stared north again, harder now, and the cold morning wind poured up over the cliff and filled my lungs, and it carried nothing I could name — no scent, no sound, no sign — nothing but that same impossible certainty that had gripped me at dawn and would not let go. Something was coming up the long road out of the far country. Something the whole mountain would feel before the

It's been ten years since I followed my fated mate, Grace Murphy, into the human world. Her childhood friend, Fred Williams, is dying. His one last wish? To experience marriage. Grace said yes. She told me she wanted to give her wedding to Fred. I didn't cry. I didn't fight. I just smiled, slid the ring off my finger, and handed it back to her. She brought Fred home and said she wanted to give him a home. I said, “Okay,” softly, and stepped aside—clean, neat, no fuss. She wanted to take Fred to Hawaii—the honeymoon destination I'd been dreaming about for years. I still helped her book everything, calm and composed. The day she boarded that plane, I finally answered the summons from my pack.

I lowered my gaze to the new studio contract on the table. The address was in the south of the city, by the river, a place where fog gathered more often than not. "I've paid my share too." … On opening day, Tristan came. He did not come inside. He only stood across the street, holding a paper bag. "Do you want to go over?" Wyatt asked. I shook my head. Not long after, the front desk brought up a package. Inside was the repaired fog lamp, and the line "Come home when the fog clears" on the base had been re-engraved.