Novel & Cerita Creepy Old Man

It gave them a clear view of the wrinkled old man who strode toward them naked but for his long, loose grey hair. "Someone should tell Gramps he forgot his leaf," Sasha whispered. Somehow, Carlie got the impression the old man already knew and didn't care, because lucky them, they appeared to be the centerpieces of a ritual. Hopefully, not one involving pain, sacrificing body parts, or group sex.

Footsteps slapped the floor. He was impatient. He wanted to see me. Now. —Crash The table blocking the door flew away, landing with a loud bang and breaking into pieces. I stifled a scream and pressed myself against the wall, motionless. “Cara~” He softened his voice like he was calling a naughty child. His scaly feet swung back and forth in front of me, as he paced lightly, as if afraid to scare away a timid animal. His strong scent filled the room, making me restless and uneasy. I slowed down my breathing, trying to minimize the intake of that gas.

“You made me explode. Want to see it?” I bit my lip, still buzzing from how nasty I’d just been. “Yes… show me.” There was a short pause, then his camera turned on. First, his face filled the screen….a handsome man in his late thirties or early forties, sharp jaw, dark hair with a bit of gray at the temples, and intense eyes staring right at me. He smirked, looking pleased with himself. Then he tilted the phone downward slowly, showing his broad chest, then his hard cock. It was thick, veiny, and still twitching in his hand as he slowly stroked it. Thick ropes of cum were splattered across the floor in front of him and dripping down his shaft and fingers.

Before her sat the ruin of a man. The old man in the wheelchair was a skeleton draped in fine, moth-eaten wool. His skin was translucent parchment, but those eyes—obsidian, bottomless, and terrifyingly lucid—belonged to the monster who had haunted her across eighteen layers of simulated hell. "You look... just as I designed you," the old man rasped. His voice wasn't a resonant baritone; it was a dry rattle, the sound of dead leaves scuttling across stone.

I paced back to my room, brushing dust off my dress, when a knock came. Not Kael's knock - too light. Not Heda's - too hesitant. Not Pip, who didn't knock so much as tap anxiously. I opened the door. An old man stood in the corridor. Ancient, actually - the kind of old that had passed through frail and come out of the other side into something harder. Small and hunched, with white hair and eyes that were a color I couldn't immediately name - silver, almost, with a depth to them that was wrong for a human face.

It was the look of a man seeing an old friend at the end of a long day. "Took you long enough." His voice was deep, like the rumble of distant thunder. But there was no edge to it. He walked toward them, his boots crunching softly on the dry stalks of grain. He stopped a few feet away, looking down at Sloane's battered face. Then his eyes moved to the girl lying unconscious beside him. "You must be the Reaper." The old man's gaze flicked to the scars on Sloane's back the place where wings had once been. He did not seem bothered by the blood on Sloane's clothes. He looked at Elena, and his expression softened into something like pity.

He’s the only person who has this much effect on me. The old man’s scary face quickly turned into fear. He couldn’t even look Cole in the eyes. It’s like he’s some kind of peasant who has done a grave mistake to his Lord. What the hell am I even talking about right now? “You’re here?” I said, like his presence was nothing. On the other hand, the old man is already shaking like an old phone. There isn’t really anything to be worried about. He quickly mumbled his apologies before running off like a thief. That’s quite funny. I didn’t laugh, though.

We stared at each for a few seconds, but were suddenly interrupted by the man in front of me. "You disturb my sleep! What do you need!" The old man was glaring at us. My eyes widened. I was trembling in shock when I saw his features, he was like a hermit: long white hair in the head, white mustache, eyebrow, eyelashes and an old scary man. That was why I ran towards Janus and hid in his back. I held his shirt tightly while peeking into the old man. "Sorry to interrupt you." Janus' voice was a bit cracked. It was obvious that he was scared, too, with that hermit. "We just want to ask something about her father. Did you know where Eyrom is?"

A woman with an amazing figure was on her knees fanning at the old man. Meanwhile, a middle-aged man made his way to the back of the old man, bowed down a little, and said softly, “Sir, Steelification Doyen has set out on his journey.” The old man said calmly without even opening his eyes, “Tell Zeus Yankovich that he can have Kayson’s life, but I want Kayson’s head.” “Yes, sir.” The middle-aged man immediately turned around and left. As for the old man, it appeared that the corners of his mouth curled up, and he sniggered.

I looked at the old man who was looking straight ahead. He really looks like the butler of batman. I guess he felt my stare when he looked at me and pasted a vicious smile across his face. F*ck Cold... I felt cold suddenly but then as I looked away. What the hell? Who was that old man? Yup, I am seeing something... like that. How can Gavin acquire those ninja like people? And this old man. He's obviously not your normal butler. If I may say, he looked like a... A retired assassin who lost his family to a massacre and decided to live peacefully with his son