Ebony Old Man Novels & Stories

I stood up,and turned to leave,my hand was placed on the cold door,about to push,when he called me back. "True?" "Yeah?"I asked,and tilted my head to him. "Promise me"he said. "What?" "You are going to have a new year's resolution"he said,"why?"I asked and j got a Shut—the— hell— up stare. "Alright fine..." Am surprised am even listening. "You are gonna get yourself a girlfriend,or even a wife if that's even possible" No way! The old man is asking too much now,am only twenty eight,and he's acting like am in my early fifties!

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.

The old man called towards us. His voice was soft. Mellow. Seemed wise beyond what he had just said. I twitched. Made the mistake of looking at him again. This time, I zoomed in on his eyes. Noticed a small bump of white slowly inching across his iris. Beside me, bones cracked. Swiftly. Near silent. And moments later, Teagan walked in front of me. Nude as the day she was born. My eyes flicked back to the old man, hackles raised.

Kiran said and looked at the man as he whispered. “Certainly, Mr. Black, please follow me to the sitting room,” the man said and I looked at Kiran. “What was that?” I whispered as we followed the man inside. “A little memory game,” he said and smiled. He offered us coffee which we accepted and Kiran sat down while I went to stand by the window. “You like the whole window introduction thing,” he said and I laughed. “Adds to the mystery,” I said and he laughed. It took half an hour before Suter came into the sitting room. He was old, probably seventy or seventy-two and he walked with a cane.

So much for imagining him as a weathered, hunched-over old man. The Cove branch family patriarch was somewhere in his mid- to late seventies, and the sparse bit of hair that sprouted in a ring around his otherwise baldpate was snowy white. But that was where the ode to aging began and ended. Jonah was an easy six-four, maybe an inch taller. But where Calder had a fair share of hard-earned muscle lining his frame, Jonah was simply a hulk of a man, born and bred. Broad at the shoulder, thick through the chest, solid shank arms, and big, meaty fists. The lower half was just as imposing, legs thick and long as sturdy oaks, set on feet that likely required special-ordered boots. It would take mor

Just as Aiden had ventured into a strange and dangerous land for his own gains, there was another who was doing the same. This person was a smallish old man who was slightly bent over a thin black cane. On his left hand were several ornaments; for each finger was adorned with a silver ring. He had short black hair with streaks of gray running through it. This man was one that was regarded as the most shrewd of the enemies that the Beastmen had to face. He wasn’t the strongest enemy there was, but if one asked any of the Beast Elders who they’d rather not face, they would mention this man’s name. This man was Elder Sand.

"The man who worked with a loose machete, threatening his opponents with a deafening noise is the same as the man who prepares the feast for his ancestral spirit." Ibekwe watched as the old man danced again, placing his left foot on his knee and his right hand on his head. "A man who feeds the gods with sacrifices is the same as the man who feeds the people with lies," the old man said and smiled. As the old man left, Ibekwe tilted, his eyes unfocused and glazed. The words of the old man struck him. Through his fears, he felt his mother closer to him, smiling. He tried to push her away from his thoughts but she didn't move. She stood still. She touched his face and they embraced. He could fe

Its branches swayed gently in a breeze that carried the scent of rain. Someone was sitting beneath it. An elderly man. His clothes were plain. His hands were stained with ink. He quietly wrote inside a worn notebook. Without looking up... he spoke. "You took longer than I expected." Adrian stepped closer. "Who are you?" The old man smiled. "That's the wrong question." He finally looked up. His eyes were calm. Filled with endless kindness. "You should ask..." "...why I'm alone." Adrian remained silent. The old man closed the notebook.

Ethan’s POV "Who's there?" I called out, my voice filled with a mix of curiosity and desperation. From the shadows emerged a figure, bent and twisted with age. It was an old man, his face lined with deep wrinkles and his clothes tattered and filthy. He shuffled towards us, his movements slow and unsteady. As he drew closer, I could see the weariness etched in his eyes, the weight of countless years bearing down upon him. My curiosity piqued, I stepped forward, my gaze fixed on the elderly figure. "Who are you?" I asked, my voice filled with a mixture of caution and intrigue. "What brings you to this place?"

"Who are you?" A very old man opened the door. He wears green Christmas pajamas and red socks. His entire hair is gray. The man's skin was very pale like he had not been exposed to the sun in a long time. When he looked at Ezra, the man had a dazed look in his eyes that gave the impression that he didn't fully understand Ezra's presence at his apartment door. “Mr. Flinch?” "Hah? My name is Bobby Flinch," the man replied hoarsely and weakly.