Ebony Old Man Novels & Stories

-BLAYNE'S POV* “Gamma Blayne,” a shaky senior voice interrupted. Provoked, an incensed growl shook the ground, whipping air strikes of a harsh wind into the old man’s face. He clutched clumsily at his walking stick with his decrepit fingers. His hair had winter-white tresses. He had hard, wizened eyes and a clipped Abe Lincoln beard. His face was toil-worn and sun-tanned from exposure and he walked with a weary, lethargic air.

“If you cans see my heartache, friend, then tell me all that you know.” He nodded sagely, gesturing for Elijah to sit down upon a heap of muck. Biting his lip, Elijah settled uncomfortably on the very edge of it. Up close, he could make out the individual components of his new seat: mouldy bread, rotten wood covered in fungi, and excrement. He shuddered. The man did not sit, and his eyes lit up as Elijah did. He had the horrible feeling that he was being tricked, but there was a kindness to the old man’s face that made him remain. If his word was true, then this information could save his mate.

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The tension in the dimly warehouse was palpable. Gray, sat across Old man,while Theo and remaining of Gray men were with Old man men. Old man whose desperation was etched on his face. The deal was simple: Old man would acquire the whole media house of Gray in Creek town for the exchange of saving Lena . “You’ve got my word,”Old man assured, his voice was trembling slightly. “I am only signing this papers,transfer the ownership,whatever you want,once I see my son healthy and strong.” Gray replied boring his eyes into Old man soul.

the old maid said smirking in pride as I saw Maverick's face go pale. " What the fuck? What are they doing here? Don't tell me they are here... Fuck. Thank you so much, bro " Maverick said in one breath to the maid who pat the shoulder of Maverick in motherly love. He hold my hand to run but we stopped. " Maverick!? What a pleasant coincidence! Come on in " our head snapped to the voice coming from the distance. I saw a beautiful old lady walking towards us with a beaming face. In hurry, the maid excuses us who sound very loyal and friendly to Maverick. The beautiful old woman hugged Maverick and that was it. It didn't take me more explanation to know that she is Maverick's mother. In realis

sort of caretaker as she has raised some of them from infant hood. Everybody joked that for such a hard core trouble maker she was such a huge softy. Ebony did her rounds of the house as she does every time she can't sleep or is up extremely early. Comforting ones showing signs of nightmares covering up those who kicked their blankets off in the night. Once her rounds are complete she decides to go check on some of the people around the city especially the elders she runs food for on delivery days and constantly making sure they are still alive. Though she has come to see some of them gone she can't bring herself to mourn for them. All she does is hope wherever these people go after death i

His gaze flickered across the dimly lit space, taking in the shelves lined with dried plants, the small firepit still smoldering in the corner, and finally—the old man sitting in the creaking rocking chair. Baba looked to be in his seventies, his features worn with age but still sharp. His hair was completely white, a stark contrast to his deep blue tail, which was heavy and coiled lazily beneath him. His eyes were closed, but the slow, steady rocking of his chair showed he was very much awake. Then, in a voice deep and slow, he spoke. "Ayaan..." Ashwin stiffened. The old man cracked one eye open, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

His face was a map of scars, one eye milky and dead, the other a piercing, brilliant violet. "You did well, Ethan," the old man said. His voice was a dry rattle, like dead leaves in a chimney. "The Panopticon is exactly as I envisioned it. A perfect cage for a perfect species." "Who the fuck are you?" I stepped in front of Caleb. My growl was a physical vibration that rattled the windowpanes. "I'm the architect." The old man smiled, showing teeth that were made of solid silver. "I'm the reason your father went mad. I'm the reason the Brooks line exists."

“Then he is lost forever’’ the old man mused; ‘‘for anyone taken in the dark forest never saw the sun again, go back while you still can young prince for your friends has been claimed by the god of despair for now as we speak Elegbara may be drinking their blood, using their skulls as cup.’’ “Then Elegbara has taken his last meals on this earth for if he does not hand over my friends in peace I will take them in pieces.’’ I raged. “Bold words from a brave man," the old man cried clapping his hands, "Ogun the Orisha of iron and warfare said the same before he beheld the daemon deity and give ground, he is an Orisha, you are just a mere mortal, what did you have that Ogun does not.’’

In this organism consisting of gigantic muscles and bones that is made for squeezing money out of all things, a head seemed to me really quite superfluous. Who, now, can conceive my astonishment when, standing facing one of these fabulous beings, I arrived at the conviction that a billionaire is a human being like all the rest! I saw there comfortably reclining in an armchair a long, wizened old man, who held his brown, sinewy hands folded across a body of quite ordinary dimensions. The flabby skin of his face was carefully shaved. The underlip, which hung loosely down, covered solidly built jaws, in which gilded teeth were stuck. The upper lip, smooth, narrow and pallid, scarcely moved when