The Stranger Albert Camus Novels & Stories

she said, pointing towards the food. I looked at the food, and my stomach started to make a noise. She smiled at me, probably hearing the sound. I felt a little embarrassed. Looking at her from a distance, I could say she smelled good, and her brown eyes with long lashes, don't even make me say it. I stood there, wondering if the lashes were real or fake. "You should eat. I will see you in some time," She left without letting me say a word. So I am in a stranger's house? I can't believe I even failed to die like I failed everything.

He shuddered, rocking back and forth, trying to contain the mental anguish that welled up in his head. The camera flipped, and Jonathan smiled serenly back at him. “What do you think? Your precious little Arabella will be horrified if she comes to find out what happened. She would hate you, Gael Laurent. You let an innocent little girl die. You’re a fucking murderer. What makes you think that Arabella would ever willingly go back to you ever again?”

“Please—please, that’s enough—” He shrugged me off as if I were weightless. I stumbled, hit the bricks with my shoulder and bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper. The world narrowed to three sounds: the stranger’s wet panic, the scrape of shoes on grit, and the animal rhythm at the seam of his mouth where flesh gave. “I’m fine,” I said to the wall, to the lamps, to anything that might be listening. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” I wasn’t. The stranger’s movements went from wild to loose to nothing. His chin fell against his chest at a wrong angle. When the thing on my roof let go, the body slid down the wall and followed gravity to the ground as if it had never learned anything bette

Cold night air streamed in, sharp and invigorating after the stifling heat of the tunnels. We stepped out into an alley, a narrow one covered with broken glass spilled across its floor. The city loomed above us, neon lights blinking against the dark sky. Sirens howled somewhere in the distance. The stranger stood before me. "There is a haven three blocks away. But the second we step out onto the street, the whole city will be looking at us. Your choice: leave now, or stay here and die." I adjusted my grip on Cassian. His lifeless weight tugged me downward, but I hardened my resolve. "Take me there."

“I’m someone who doesn’t like losing people in the middle of nowhere.” Isabella gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Since when do you care who lives or dies?” “Since the thing out there started counting heads,” he snapped. That shut her up. --- The stranger’s words The kid coughed, throat scraping raw. Then their voice came again, broken at the edges: “They’re… already close.” I leaned down. “Who?” Their eyes rolled, pupils unfocused. “The ones it made.” My stomach twisted cold. I wanted to ask what that meant, but the words stuck somewhere behind my teeth.

I nodded slowly, straightening up as I turned slightly. “Jen.” I called out aloud, and she hurried forward, her hands already clasped together nervously. “Yes, sir.” “Why were the children left alone with a stranger?” My voice wasn’t raised, but it carried enough weight to make her flinch. “He said he was your brother, sir,” she explained quickly. “I thought…” “You thought?” I cut in, my tone sharpening despite my effort to stay composed. “You thought that was enough?” She lowered her head immediately. “I’m sorry, sir…”

Three The stranger could detect the strong scent of alcohol on Florence’s breath despite the scent of rain hitting the dry ground, but he refrained from making any judgmental comments. He observed her distress, her tears flowing freely, and he understood very well that she was going through a difficult time and everyone did go through something somewhere. Even earlier, from the safety of his car, he had witnessed her collapse onto the sidewalk, her cries echoing through the rain. He knew that she was not the only person in her suffering, that everyone, in their own way, was battling their own demons. He was battling his own demons as well.

Curiosity punched into her system, and she called, “Who are you? Do you live nearby? And what are you doing here at this hour?” “He’s coming for you… too,” the stranger said without turning to face Heather. “Who?” “He’s coming for you too… he’s coming for you too… he’s coming for you too. And this time, he’ll not leave. He’ll eat, he’ll roast, and you’ll cry and die,” the stranger chuckled, a maddening noise that reverberated. Heather covered her ears, afraid if she listened anymore, she’ll consider herself a demented cow.

"Why do I feel like I am being interrogated so early in the morning?" I pursed my lips before murmuring. "Sorry." He sighed. "Okay, first and foremost, I'm not going to say any details about me because you're a stranger and at the same time, I'm also a stranger to you." He said, a matter-of-factly. "Didn't your parents told you to not speak to strangers?' He said the word 'stranger' three times in that sentence. I didn't say anything. We just resume our walking while I was willowing myself in embarrassment. It made me realized that I had just disobeyed one of my mother's lectures.

He continues and I listen attentively, eagerly wanting to know where he’s taking this. “Stop smiling like that, you’re going to make me mess this up.” He says and we both laugh. “Okay, go on Romeo.” I say to him. “You have tried to get to know me over and over, and with each time, something new pops up that makes you feel like I’m a total stranger. I know that’s messed up, Rose. I’m sorry.” He says and touches my hand. His warmth ignites electricity in me. “But I am asking you, no, I’m begging you. For you to allow me to be the Stranger in your heart.” He says and I giggle.