Ebony Old Man Novels & Stories

He begged her, but there's no change in her expression. "If you love her and she is very special to you, then no one in this family going against your happiness." A solemn voice echoed in the living room. They all turned their head and saw that an old man was standing in the doorway. The old man was his late seventy, he had fox-like eyes, he had grey hair, but very few wrinkles were on his face. Seeing his stiff body, it could be said that he took care of his body very well, despite his age.

A gruff voice sounded from the right. Tony looked over and saw an old man in a dark green recliner. He had a smartphone in his hand surprisingly. The living room was a mish-mash of different styles, from country cabin, to some kind of '50s diner theme. Old man Charles himself didn't seem like he was in his seventies. He had a full head of salted and peppered hair(more pepper than salt). Tony was shocked to see he had a healthy body for one his age when he stood up. The old man looked from Ethan to Tony and back again, eyes narrowed behind wire-framed aviator glasses. The kind from the seventies. Tony gave an awkward, sheepish grin and nodded at him. "Sorry sir. I just-"

“Go aw- how did you know my name?” The old man had stepped into the light. He had bright blue captivating eyes despite the disaster of gray hair atop his head. He looked as if someone had trapped a young man in the frame of an aging one. His stance gave away a bowed back and hurt knees, the way he fidgeted as he stood before her. “I know many things, Evarh, none of which I can explain just this moment. As I have said, we need to go.” She narrowed her gaze, “You hit your head, old man? I am going nowhere with you. I'm...”

“No one talks to you like that. Not while I’m here.” His hand went around my waist again, almost like he was trying to show everyone that I belonged to him. “Edward.” An old man approached us. “Don.” Archer bowed his head slightly and I copied. Why did the old man call him by another name though? “Who is this?” The old man asked as his gaze travelled to me, his eyes scanned me almost like he was trying to read me. “This is Elena, she's my date for tonight.” The old man scanned me again and from his reaction he didn't look like he liked me.

Their silence seemed like an act of cowardice to me. "Mendez?" I called, my expression quizzical with one eyebrow arched. My attention shifted to the oldest among the group, a man who appeared to be over a hundred years old, with gray patches in his hair. "Alpha Hawthorne," he responded, and I waited with anticipation, hoping for a satisfactory explanation of what I had just heard.

Just when the handcuffs were about to be locked on the old lady's hands, a horse voice said; Hold on officer. An old man dressed in a white long robe came forward. Everyone turned to look at him. The old man has a shinny black skin. But surprisingly his bead and hair are silver.He is kind of skinny and taller than everyone present. In his hand there is a very old spear that is wrapped in a back cloth. On this tall feet, he is wearing sandals that are indeed old fashioned. Only a few people present recognized them. Everyone was whispering who is he. His aura alone is too strong that some people began shivering.

Sonnet shook her head and said, “He’s of old age. It won’t be good if anything happens. Let’s wait for a while. There was nothing urgent on her father’s side, so she decided to keep the old man company until his family arrived. Luckily, the old man’s grandson arrived in ten minutes. A man got down of a luxurious Bentley. He was dressed in a business suit. He seemed well-mannered and presentable. After finding out that Sonnet had helped the old man, the old man’s granson handed her his namecard and said, “Nice to meet you. I’m Hayden Gunn. It’s a pleasure.”

He reminded her of the Hunchback of Notre Dame. “How can I help you?” the old man asked, his voice hoarse but kind. Suzanne smiled awkwardly, feeling embarrassed by her lack of courage earlier. She held out a hand and the man took it. His hand was cold and clammy, as they were bony and wrinkly. She wondered if he lived alone in this building. “I’m Rebecca Grey from TNN. I’m looking for a George Whitmore?” A warm smile spread across the old man’s face and his eyes disappeared into the wrinkles of his smile, “Ahh…that would be me.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he tried to explain. " She...she's hurt. I need help. Please. She's bleeding. " He said, almost begging. Because there was only one house in the whole damn dale. The old wrinkling eyes squeezed in confusion then they swiped at the car. They narrowed first then widened. The door shut, making his breath hitch but the next moment it opened wide. Eden's eyes fell on the old man, he looked sixty or maybe more than sixty. Wearing warm clothes and a woolen sweater. A long scarf was wrapped around his neck. He had natural brightness on his old face. His back was slightly bent forth as he was holding himself onto the strong stick.

"But you're a hero who got injured because of serving our country!" "And what do you mean by that? Anyone should do that for their country. We can't just act all high and mighty because of that, can we?" The old man appeared to be furious. Wilbur stopped in his tracks all of a sudden and turned to look at the old man. "If I could ask, what's your name?" Wilbur asked. The old man smiled. "I'm Benjamin Grayson." "The founding father?" Wilbur replied, shocked. Benjamin waved a hand. "Bah! I'm just another old geezer."