Never Grow Old Book Novels & Stories

SARA POV (YEAR 2077, 56 YRS LATER) "Now he is a fine chunk of meat. I can see why all the girls want him," the older waitress says as she appears next to me. I quickly close my worn book. My cheeks tint a little, and I give her a small smile. "I still can't believe they are real even though my friend's granddaughter is mated to one of them," she says while refilling my mug with fresh coffee.

Like I knew that I couldn’t stop myself from going in if I passed the entrance. I sat down in the center of town on a park bench and pulled out my book. The sun was shining, and even though it was still not quite summer, the weather was warm. There were birds singing in a few of the trees, and it was peaceful. I could remember loving these quiet moments of solitude when I was younger. I had always loved reading. But now, I couldn’t remember the last time that I had picked up a book. My life was dance, or hanging out with dancers, or practicing new dance moves.

I picked it up, and opened it. *LETTER FROM NINETEEN YEAR OLD GRETA TO TWENTY YEAR OLD GRETA* IT'S BEEN A FULL YEAR, WE'VE CHANGED SO MUCH BUT WE STILL HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO GO TO COLLEGE. MANIFESTING GETTING INTO COLLEGE SOON AND GETTING A CARTON OF BOOKS. Reading her note made me feel a bit sad. It felt like reading a private diary, and I know it was wrong but then everything happens for a reason right? I needed to find a book store at the moment in order to get her books but then I couldn't leave here.

“You are talking too much again. Have you forgotten what I told you? Too much talk will make you remain a kid forever.” “But Papa.” Jide shrugged, “After seeing those women in the courtyard, I don’t think I want to grow old. Old people tend to become worn out. I don’t want to be like that.” “No my son,” Maduka rested his hands on Jide’s shoulders. “You must desire adulthood. There are many things to uncover, so many adventures. And remember, not every adult who grows old becomes worn out. Just like your mother and me. We have grown old but not worn out.”

Maybe the only fun I had there was flying with swords. Then the future galactic world? Honestly, out of all my ninety-nine reincarnations, I didn’t reach that kind of world yet or even some apocalyptic world, and I’m thankful for that. [11:59 pm] It really felt like I am having some sort of a countdown for New Year. But in my case, it's a countdown for my New Life. Yes, let's just call it new life and not death. It sounded depressing to call it like that.

Forever growing. Together.

I just lost hope at this point, my eyes were strained already. “Oh this brat, these kids always rely on the internet, not everythin’ in there is right!” The old man annoyingly said. “How to raise a goldfish.” I said. How could this old man know that book anyway? Maybe it wasn’t even a book in the first place. “Ah! A classic. The green book written by Henry Welsh? Ah, I remember that guy, I still feel sad about what happened to him.” The old janitor sighed as if he was at a loss.

Answer Dewa with a slow voice but is full of pressure. "Then do not consider this old woman as your mama again." Mama immediately divert his views and sitting in the direction of the opposite direction. "Ma ...." Rajuk Dewa, his hands revoke his male arm, similar to the young child who is whining as to be candy. "If I were the father of the woman, I could have come to me and imagined marrying as a form of responsibility for having made the fall of his little girl just because of the bake." Maom said that he might divert the views and duties of his seat.

She behaved like someone’s sweet grandma. John snorts at me. “Have you met her?” Ignoring his hurtful words, I move on to my next question. “And what was that about a mate?” I lift a curious eyebrow. “Angels have mates? And wow, you don’t look fifteen at all!” John turns a deeper shade of red. My words seem to bother him, even though I can’t figure out why. “I know! I’m a late bloomer! It’s not like I haven’t noticed how small I am compared to everyone else!”

The wise words and advices of the old man made sense to her. Outside, the rain had softened into a quiet drizzle. The old man rose from his chair. He wandered through one of the shelves before pulling out a small hardcover book bound in dark blue cloth. ts pages had yellowed with age. He placed it carefully on the counter. "It belonged to my daughter." Elara looked up. The daughter word caught something in her. Why would he give something to her? The word sounded so precious. "She loved writing," she stared at the book. It was old, wrinkled yet contained lots of emotions.