Home The Game

A young girl called Flo fleeing her country due to war, in search of a new home. Flo encounters joy and lots of sadness along with love and loss. Will Flo ever find home and a place of safety and comfort in this world of war and chaos.

For the sake of that fake heiress, my biological parents and brother threw me into a horror game to "teach me some manners." The second the game started, the fake heiress, Nicole, went out of her way to provoke the ghosts nonstop. Once she'd pissed them off, she shoved me in front of her to take the punishment. As I lay there, tortured within an inch of my life, she planted her foot on my head and smirked. "Mom and Dad already made it clear—I'm the only one they truly love. They only brought you back to keep me entertained! Letting you deal with those ghosts for me is more than generous. If you dare complain, once my brother and the others get back, they'll skin you alive." In my past life, I treated them like family and gave in every single time. In the end, I was nothing but a stepping stone for them to beat the game—torn apart and devoured by over a dozen ghosts. But now, I've been reborn. "Welcome to Horror Instance: Happy Home." The moment I heard that mechanical announcement, I slapped the arrogant Nicole so hard she flew across the room. Because in this instance, the three bosses that terrorized every player… were all my family. The red-dressed female ghost who killed without hesitation was my adoptive mother. The monster with scissors for hands who ripped out hearts with a single swipe was my adoptive father. And the ruthless warden who devoured people whole, leaving no bones behind, was my adoptive brother. With them watching my back, why the hell would I keep putting up with this? A mocking smile curled across my lips as I said, "You're on my turf; none of you are getting out alive."

After five years of marrying into the Loween City in place of my sister, the Gambling King finally passed away. My son and my ex-husband—at long last—gave me permission to fake my death and return to them. But they laid down three conditions. First: kneel before Vivian Gray, apologize for framing her all those years ago, and surrender my place as Mrs. Hartwell. Second: work as a live-in maid for my own son for five years, and never show up at his school in my former identity as the reigning queen of the nightlife scene—lest I embarrass him. Third: drink an abortifacient to destroy my fertility forever, as recompense for the infertility I once caused Vivian. "My lady, you've endured five whole years just to earn your freedom—how dare they humiliate you like this?" My maid's eyes were red, burning with indignation on my behalf. But I just tipped my head back and swallowed the death-faking pill, letting the servants toss my "corpse" into the overgrown brambles beyond the city limits. Then, from the mud and weeds, I crawled back to the Hartwell mansion—one knee at a time. Day one, I knelt as ordered and signed over custody of my son without a fight. Day three, I locked myself in the storage closet and stopped showing up at school to pick my son up like I used to. I also stopped pestering him to call me "Mom." Even when Vivian—knowing full well I'm terrified of the dark—deliberately trapped me in the basement, I bore it in silence. By the time my ex-husband Nathan Hartwell saw me again, I was barely hanging on. For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed his face as he carried me out of that basement. But my son just sneered. "It's just another stunt to win our sympathy." When he caught the tears welling in Vivian's eyes, Nathan coldly dropped me to the ground. "Always scheming against Vivian with your dirty tricks—aren't you tired of it?" Right then, the system chimed in my ear: [Please proceed to the "disposable ex-wife death node" to complete the story line and return to your original world.] I let out a quiet laugh. "Not tired at all." And with that, I turned and dove straight into the swimming pool beside me.

He didn't stop when he reached her but leaned forward and kissed her hard, on the mouth. The air left her lungs. Maybe it was because it was her first kiss or because he had kissed her, she didn't know but her lungs were burning, her lips were on fire. She was one fire. It ended in a second. She stared at him with wide eyes as he stared back. His hand traced her forehead, nose, lips and then chin as it stopped on her throat. She knew, by God she knew he could feel her pulse, the heat on her cheeks. "I'm home." Dean Woodland left two years ago without a word or sound and now he is back to bring his belongings with him.

"Let's play a game, let's find out if you live or die." Skilled with the ability to Astral Project, Jason finds himself trying to escape a mansion filled with demonic entities while also trying to save his bestfriend. Only the dead survive where the days are shorter and the nights are longer.

After deciding to leave Azurea and follow Clara Miller to Northwood City, I was cast out by my parents. "That girl is an orphan–what can she possibly give you? If you choose a life of hardship now, you’ll spend the rest of your life suffering! Once you walk out that door, don’t bother coming back!" I left anyway. For five years, I watched Clara rise step by step, becoming one of Northwood City’s most respected psychologists. Just as she had promised, she gave me a home. As the New Year approached, I planned to take her back to Azurea to reconcile with my parents. However, just before boarding the plane, she abandoned me again–this time for a depressed patient threatening to take his own life. She let go of my hand, her eyes full of pain. "Julian Vance… he’s just like I used to be–alone, with no one to rely on. If I don’t go, he’ll jump. I’m sorry. Just this once. I’ll catch the next flight and meet you there." Then she turned and ran toward the exit without hesitation. I stood there, staring at the two plane tickets in my hand. She had saved everyone who needed redemption. Everyone… except me. Slowly, I tore up her ticket. Then I walked alone toward the security gate and turned off my phone. What Clara did not know was this: Some journeys home, once missed, are gone forever.