Neil Young Novels & Stories

"Neil, I'm not the one who said it, but your precious son is hinting that you're old." "That brat hasn't been spanked in a long time, has he?" Neil shouted. When he saw Mia in his arms, he smiled again. "Mia, you know best, if I'm old or young!" "Aren't you old?" Mia had to admit that Neil was definitely still very young and strong when it came to their bedroom antics, despite his age. Perhaps, young men in their early twenties couldn't even compare to him in terms of physique! He had solid abs and he had remarkable stamina. He had maintained all of this by working out persistently.

I look out the window and stare at the moon, silently praying to the Moon Goddess to let me redeem myself for whatever sins my parents had perished to pay for. And it would be on this night that I would have my first experience with the whispers of the ancestors passed. They would whisper the name my parents blessed me with at birth... ... Elodie.

"Who's Uncle Young?" "Ah!" Neil suddenly clutched his head, looking very pained. "Neil, Neil!" "Uncle Young is... ah!" "Neil, it's okay, it's okay. Don't push yourself. Let's not think about it for now. Just rest." Harry's voice was soothing, filled with concern. He gently placed a hand on Neil's shoulder, urging him to relax. The tension in the room was palpable, but Harry’s calm demeanor helped ease some of it. Peter and I exchanged worried glances, knowing that the road to Neil’s recovery might be long and fraught with more painful memories. For now, all we could do was be there for him, offering our support and patience.

“This is my fault! I’m the worst! I never should’ve said what I said! “I never should’ve believed them and gone along with that fake-death scheme. I never should’ve let you kneel in that confessional for eight whole years! “I knew what you wanted, and I never gave it to you. “Lily, I swear on my life that no one from our family will show up at your funeral. Not even me.” Then he stood up and, without hesitation, dragged our wailing parents toward the door. “Kian, you’ve lost your mind! We finally found Lily! If you want to leave, fine, but don’t take us with you!”

Maybe because I never had many friends, I had become a homebody. There were three days left before we were finally leaving for São Paulo. Marina had gotten together with the owner of the diner where we had worked together for several years and organized a party with the country singer who would be performing on my birthday. The show would be held on a Sunday afternoon, in the open air, in the courtyard of the gas station, exclusive for truck drivers, that our old boss was opening on the side of the highway. The singer would give her a discount on her f*e because he had not been able to perform on the day I turned eighteen, and estimates were that this would be the biggest show the city had e