Generations Novels & Stories

After all, they looked to be of the same age. “No, I’m not” Indra shook his head with a smile as he responded in the negative. Seeing the look of surprise on Mane’s face he explained thusly, “Although I look this young I’m actually older than your father by several millions of years. I am considered as a member of the younger generation in the god society, but that doesn’t mean that I am young. In human terms, I am old enough to be an ancestor.” “I am confused. If you are part of the younger generation, then what generation does my father belong to?” Mane wondered. Indra claimed that he was older than his father by at least a million years. If he was considered young, then how did they regar

“Bronwyn is the housekeeper. Adam is our gypsy. At the moment is in Vietnam. Or perhaps in Thailand. As a backpacker. - He and Maggie exchanged a look. The woman shuddered. “People worry, but what can you do? It even seems that they listen to what their parents they say. Cutting into his juicy ribs – and glad he hadn't made vegetarian Dhiraj – Nav listened the concern in her voice. He thought about how he always butted heads with his parents. “I think there's an inevitable tension between the generations,” he said slowly. Maggie nodded. — When they are small, the children depend on us entirely and we protect them. As they get older, they want to be independent

I will keep this one. The children born here do not rot the way we rot. The grandchildren less still. I have been watching long enough now to see the pattern hold across generations — the further the blood gets from what we did that night in the ash, the more stable it becomes. They breed with each other. They form something coherent, something that holds together without consuming itself. A species. Something that will outlast us. It is only the original six who are dying. The working lives cleanly in everything born after us. It is only in us — in the men who made it, who fed it with what we fed it — that it turns inward.

"I'm now the oldest generation left with any direct memory of my own great-grandmother Wren. Once I'm gone too, this family's entire connection to the founding generation will exist only through recordings, memoirs, and the institutional record itself." Isabella considered that seriously. "Does that worry you?" "Sometimes," Wren Isabella admitted. "I think there's something the earliest generations understood, in their bones, that gets slightly harder to convey with each subsequent generation removed from the actual crisis. Not because the values themselves fade. Because the visceral, personal memory of exactly how frightening and uncertain the original choice

orthodox close knit family. This isn’t everyone either as the grandparents and younger kids are not present but you get the idea. I think I speak for everyone here when I say if any of you little shits fuck with our kids or hurt them in any way we can make you disappear. That’s not a threat it’s a promise. Also after the girls our sons are with I don’t need the “take your ass out of here if you petty bitch ass ho” speech as I know most of your parents personally. With that being said welcome and enjoy this food the kids ordered for tonight.” Mama finishes before sitting down again. Before anyone starts passing the plates a few of the dads stand up “on a side note if anyone gets pregnant we’r

It was even so strict that it could cultivate dead soldiers from generation to generation! Moreover, this person’s father could not be the first generation of dead soldiers because his mother was the daughter of another dead soldier. That was to say that he would be at least the third generation of dead soldiers. What was the concept of three generations?! Judging from his age where he was in his thirties and if each generation had a span of twenty years, the time span of these three generations would exceed at least seventy years! Even Porter, who was aside, was also stunned.

“Simply put. My life and yours on paper. Or at least as much as people can find. It’s very detailed and some of it is embarrassing and I’m not sure you are old enough to understand it all. Or if it’s a subject I think you should be trying to deal with until you are older. But that could be me not wanting to make you deal with it too soon. One day I’ll let you see it all and let you decide what you want to believe. Maybe by then, we will know more and you will be able to understand it better than me then.” “You’re talking about the stuff with my real dad?” “Among other things it seems. I am trying to understand it all before I talk to your great grandparents.” “What’s the difference between

“Gate Master Tyr, you have not answered my question. Which elder’s son are you?” For Zillion and the others, the people they looked down on the most would be the second generation of Six Doors, the children of the elders in the organization. This was because the elders were the most rotten part of Six Doors. Those b*stards enjoyed and reaped the benefits the organization received. They had the power and strength to make a change, yet they refused to work outside and just leisurely stayed home like lazy worms. And the second generation was even worse. Born with silver spoons in their mouths, they got everything they wanted without lifting a finger. Yet, they were influenced by the bad.

He said before he ended the call. Norman and Chase wasn't in my academic year. Still, a difference of one or two years between the students did not matter. For example, year one and year two would still be considered as one generation. It was why Norman and Chase are free to come to the school reunion as well. In the school's perspective, we are all in one generation so there was no need to be too uptight. It was why I was happy to skip a grade in college. After skipping a year, I was considered to be in the same generation with my brother and Chase.

Older than any of the children in the room. Eliane slowly approached the hatch. “How many generations?” Corvin closed his eyes. “Seven.” No one spoke. Malric stared into the darkness below. “What happened to the others?” Corvin whispered, “They never left.” A voice rose from beneath Blackwood. Then another joined it. Then dozens. Children. Adults. Old voices. Young voices. Seven generations of experiments hidden beneath the territory began speaking at once. And somewhere among them, one woman called Darius by a name no living person had ever used. “Number Ninety-Nine.” Darius released Corvin. The voice laughed softly. Then she c