Ash Brown Gray Hair Novels & Stories

A sports bra and a tank top that used to be an old The Plot In You band shirt. Before walking out there, I take a look in the mirror wondering if I look any different. I used to think that Jayk would bleach his hair to get it as silver as it is, but I guess I was wrong. My once golden blonde hair is a couple of shades away from being gray but still very straight. My eyebrows turned black. My eyes are still the same gunmetal blue. My muscle definition is a lot more obvious. Especially my stomach. I definitely didn't have a six-pack this morning. I might be a little taller but not by much. I still look like myself.

“Found it!” “Good job.” My head was wrapped in a plastic cap, my hair dyed brown and dripping dye down the back of my neck. Cassius would be looking for me with blond hair. A man with brown hair in a small town wouldn’t draw as much attention. Aurora was sitting on the sofa behind me, her gloved fingers working through August’s strands, which had already gone from light blond to an ashy platinum tone. It suited him. It made his eyes—my eyes—stand out even more.

She looked relaxed in sleep, the habitual frown I suspected she always wore, gone. Gently, I ran my hands through her short hair. The hair was something that she would have to change as my mate. It was a lovely shade of auburn that had caught the light when the sun shone on it. Allison was going to have to grow it out. She evidently did not take pains to maintain it. It was cut carelessly, uneven in some places. It had perhaps been long at one time but had been trimmed in order to get it out of the way.

Clay asked casually. "I didn't make one." Wolf was still cautious. They hadn't discussed it, and Wolf imagined Zoe didn't want it either, considering she was busy with her career. "Don't postpone too long, or your kid will call you grandpa—instead of dad—because your gray hair is increasing," teased Clay, pointing to the white strands in Wolf's hair. "You know I've had it since I was young!" Wolf growled. The white hair on Wolf's head wasn't a sign of old age, just a genetic condition, and the gray hair had been there since he was a teenager.

he answered and lowered his head. I held both his shoulders which made him look at me. I stared at his green eyes and spoke, “There must be more than that. The human brain is funny, you cannot know what it knows or not. Close your eyes and think! Try to recall; you saw something more, something specific, something helpful.” “He… He’s got gray-colored hair?” He said, quite unsure. “Gray-colored, you said gray-colored. What are his hair roots?” “I think it’s brown?”

he said, "and then you're all mine." True to his word, ten minutes later, he was clean and back in the living room with a pair of jeans on and a white T-shirt, no shoes. He eyed me as though he wanted to say something. His head cocked to the side slightly, and then the grin I loved made an appearance. "Your hair's gotten so long since we met. And darker. I swear it used to be a chestnut color, but it's almost black now." I tucked it behind my ear shyly. It was an odd observation, but it was Gray, and he came up with oddball stuff.

Sometimes, she was a bit afraid of him. Noah had started growing white hair at the age of seventeen, but the quantity was minimal. He had undergone several examinations, and nothing seemed to be wrong. For convenience during formal events, he had it dyed black whenever the amount increased. But lately, it seemed like there more had popped up. Focused on reviewing quarterly data, Noah calmly declined, "There’s no need." *

I sink in with a soft groan, letting my sore muscles relax. After a good soak and scrub, I quickly dry off and work a brush through my wet hair. My hair is… wild—a massive wavy multi-color mess. Red, blonde, brown, black, even golden strains blended to cascade down to the middle of my back and 100% my natural hair. It reminds me of the autumn season when the leaves change from their summer brilliance to their cozy fall colors. I run my fingers through them with some hair product and let it dry naturally.

They were a deep shade of brown, warm and inviting, and they seemed to sparkle with intelligence and wit. His hair was long and flowing, falling in loose waves around his face and down his back. It was a rich shade of chestnut brown, with subtle highlights that caught the light and gave it an almost ethereal glow. He wore it loose, with a few strands artfully arranged around his face to frame his features.

However, he could tell something was on her mind. He glanced over at his mother, the coffee cup held at waist level. His fifty-five-year-old mother had black hair that seemed faded as the gray began to sneak its way into her wavy locks. She refused to dye it. "Between you and your sister," she would say, "I've earned every streak of gray that I get. I'll wear it like a badge of honor." Robert Lansky, his father, was bald, and he blamed it on his wife. He would tease that her gray hair was karma for his baldness. Glen claimed his thinning hair was hereditary. Tanya, Glen's sister, just prayed she didn't get the hair loss gene and started dying her hair blond. "No coffee for you?" Glen asked h