The Stranger--camus Novel Novels & Stories

If only magic did not coat this place, this man could break free and help the other prisoners. Maybe he was still new here. He was still well-built and in proper shape except for his smell. His smell was a mixture of dust and earth, with a hint of a dog's smell that did not take a bath for a couple of days. Terah was curious. This man was powerful, but how come Cassanova captured him? There must be an interesting story behind him. The other prisoners stood, and tired eyes eyed them warily. They did not make any movements, but their eyes looked at them intently. Notably, none of them spoke. All of them were silent, but they were not mute.

Richardson's office, the man who would interview me. Upon arrival, I noticed an open space and then a desk where a young man was sitting, who looked at me and smiled as if encouraging me to approach, he greeted me. —Asier, right? —I nodded— Mr. Richardson is going to attend to you, he is answering a call—the words still didn't come out at all, I had to do something to wake up from my stupor and react or I would spend the shame of my life because of a perfect stranger .

I wonder if he felt it. "No big deal." I guess he didn't. I give him a meek smile before moving up the aisle. I want to wait for him, continue talking to him, when I realize I don't even know his name and he never asked mine. I'm such a daft cow. Bloody hell. Here I am thinking there's some beautiful connection to this stranger I met by happenstance on a plane, when in actuality, he was just being nice, effectively making the time fly by.

Dada asked furiously. "Excuse you? What right do you think you have to question me that way?" she refuted him and he grabbed her closer to him. Pissed, she pushed him away from her. "I had a one-night stand the night before. It was magical and up till now, I still can't let go of the moment I shared with this stranger. I have no idea who he is. Now I feel very lonely. I'm telling you because you are my friend. The only make friendship I have and value but please respect me next time." she said to him and tried to make her way out of his house but then he shut the door as he looked at her like someone who was brokenhearted.

The boys quickly formed a defense stance behind each other giving me the chance to look at the source of such a strong voice. The tattooed stranger! “And who are you to tell us that?” The leading guy asked, his voice hard unlike that of a teenager he is. “Someone who can break your bones and dumb them in a police cell if you don’t leave this minute” he threatened It’s highly unhealthy how his strong command makes my painties wet in the face of danger. I must be going crazy.. The boys ran away in a matter of seconds leaving just the two of us in the area. “Uhhhm…. Thanks” I managed to say

he asked. “Yes,” I replied quicker and sharper than I intended. I took a deep breath willing myself to calm down. “I don't mind. This is actually our first phone call, you know” He chuckled lightly, a sound that made my tummy rumble with butterflies. “Yeah I realize” “It feels…strange. And weirdly new” I muttered. “Good strange or bad strange?” he asked. “Good strange,” I said, biting my lip. He was quiet for some seconds, then he replied. “I'm glad it is”

] [Even if they don't like me, I'm going to stand up for you. Before, a message like that would’ve melted my heart. I would’ve believed that Jim really cared about me, that he was the only one who truly understood how I felt. Now, it just felt like a cruel joke. I didn’t reply his message, and put him on Do Not Disturb. Then, out of nowhere, I got a friend request. It was from Rowena. The moment I accepted, she flooded me with photos—dozens of shots of her and Jim looking intimate and close.

Tension permeated the air as we all turned to meet the stranger. The voice demanded, "Let her go, Dante," smooth and serene yet lethal. Dante's face contorted with fury. Who the heck do you suppose you are? But the stranger's reply was straightforward: no more words; just the lethal click of a revolver, ready for whatever next happened. And in that instant, what I understood about this struggle, about the people around me, broke apart. This was a fresh player. And what did they want with us? Before the person moved more into the low light, I hardly had time to absorb what was occurring. A towering black figure, their motions are shockingly quiet as they round Dante.

The knife clattered from her hand, but the damage was done—the stranger’s arm went slack, Leo forcing him down harder. But even pinned, even bleeding, the man smiled again. And Cass suddenly knew—this wasn’t over. The stranger coughed, blood smearing his lips, but the glint in his eyes was sharper than any blade. Even with Leo’s weight crushing him into the floor and his arm bleeding freely, he didn’t look afraid. He looked amused. Cass felt her chest tighten. Men who fought for survival screamed, begged, or broke. Men who smiled—bleeding, cornered—were the kind who already knew something she didn’t.

She lay down. This was her life now. For ten years. The thought made her sit up. Her heart began to race. This could not be real. This was a mistake. She was Patra Brown. She was innocent. She was not supposed to be in a cage. She got down from the bunk. She walked to the cell door. She held the cold bars. “I don’t belong here,” she whispered. The woman on the lower bunk laughed. It was a harsh sound. “Yeah. That’s what we all say.”