Grandmothers Stories Novels & Stories

*Years ago* I sat on the edge of my grandmother's creaky wooden rocking chair, my eyes wide with anticipation. Grandma, with her wrinkled hands and silver hair, looked at me with a mischievous smile. She always had the most fascinating stories to tell—stories that transported me to a world of magic and wonder. "Veronica," she began, her voice filled with a blend of warmth and mystery, "let me tell you about the silver werewolves. It's an ancient tale passed down through generations in our family."

she said. My grandmother looked at the fire for a moment. Then at the room. At this assembled collection of people, her granddaughter and her granddaughter's mate and the brothers and the friends and the women who had survived Valen's years of destruction and found their way here and something moved in her expression that was too large for the room but she contained it with her usual grace. "Alright," she said. She began. She told the story of my mother as a young woman.

"Okay, calm down kids, I am going to tell you a story of how our revered Master, Lucifer saved our late grandfather's life from perishing in the woods. Are you listening?" "Yes mom." They chorused again, "I can't wait to hear the story again, I love that story and I don't mind being told about it a hundred times! The most beautiful part of the story is that it was grandfather and grandmother that told us what they experienced. I am supposed you know what it means to hear a story from the horse's mouth." Zack smiled and sat at the edge of the bed, waiting for his mother to begin the story. "Who wants to hear my story?" Diana announced.

And even though she had been too young at the time to remember herself, I believed some stories would have been told to her over and over again. Meanwhile, Nana, the wise and spirited grandmother of the family, sat at the head of the table, her eyes sparkling with a lifetime of experiences as she looked over at her boys. She regaled me with tales from her own youth, sharing pearls of wisdom and life lessons that had guided her family for generations. I couldn’t help but feel a deep respect for Nana, recognizing the strength and love she had installed in Caleb and his brothers, even after their parents had died.

My grandmother and mother spent every day arguing. My grandmother scolded my mother for being reckless with money, while my mother scoffed at my grandmother for being too old-fashioned. While I was playing in the living room, my grandmother would read me some stories. “In the end, the pigeon flew far away in search of its own place,” she said. When my mother saw this, she would sit with me and listen to my grandmother’s stories with rapt attention. Winter was a hard season for my grandmother. She was often dressed in thick layers, since she was afraid of the cold.

Laughing at his naivety, Matheus clapped Alex on the shoulder as they walked around the campsite, and it was now that he began to tell him thoroughly of one of the stories of their people. “There’s a very old legend, Alex,” Matheus began, walking as he spoke. “A legend of our ancestors that goes back further than the integration of our two peoples.” “My grandmother used to tell me this story when I was a child,” Rowan added. “I remember sitting in her arms before the fire, wrapped in a warm blanket, during the harshest winter’s night I ever endured.” “Wait a minute,” Alex cut in. “I think I remember now. You were telling me the other night about a winter storm or something?”

Mom strongly believes in legends, just like her mom, although I think grandma is a tad worse. Grandma is what we call a seer. It is a very rare ability, but she could feel certain things, futuristic or otherwise, speaking only always in riddles. My sibling don't like her much because they don't really understand her or know how to speak to her. I for one, bare no emotions whatsoever, she's family and I love her as much as I love every other family member that I get to see only twice a year. But she made her life's decision to teach me a lot of things, a lot of languages, she can't speak any herself, but she'd get me a book in a new language every time and task me with reading it before the n

“Who told you to suspect that I was bad mouthing you? I should reveal your embarrassing stories to make your suspicions of me come true.” Callum replied, “I was wrong, Nana. I won’t do it again. Please spare me and let me maintain my image.” Grandma May chuckled. “That was the only embarrassing story of yours that’s still fresh in my mind. I can’t recall the others, yet. “I have too many grandsons, and all of them had embarrassing moments when they were young. However, if you keep asking, I might be able to remember more of your stories.” “I’ll stop talking. Please recall embarrassing stories of the others instead of mine, Nana.”

"Mummy, what's bothering you? Are you sick?" I shook my head as I smiled at her. “No, sweetie. Mummy’s not sick. I'm just… thinking about your grandma.” Eleanor’s eyes instantly lit up. “Grandma who's in heaven? Mummy, since grandma is up in the heavens and I never met her, can you tell me a story about her? I want it as my bedtime story tonight, mummy! Pretty please?” I smiled a little once again, settling beside her on the bed. Even though my mom's story isn't a happy one, I don't mind telling my little munchkin. Perhaps she might learn a few lessons in life from the sad story.

No one knows where they go or what happens to them since they vanish without a trace. My mother was one of the girls that disappeared during the celebration a few days after I was born, so I was raised by my grandma. My grandma was now known as the village’s crazy elder because she believed in strange stories like wolves that could transform into humans and enter the village in search of a mate. The celebration, she claims, was a ruse to allow these wolves in human form to enter the community undetected and then leave later that night with the guy or girl of their choice. It was the elders’ justification for keeping the village safe from intruders, whether supernatural or ordinary strangers.