Old But Gold Means Novels & Stories

"My car is not a clunker, thank you. It's a classic." The short woman laughed. "Classic? That's what they call something that's old and worn out, right? Something that has a musty odor? I bet the music you listened to as a child is a classic, as well, being played on one of those oldie stations with a DJ born while 8-tracks were popular. Who the hell are you again and why are you even here?"

I pushed them open and stepped inside. The smell hit me first. Paper. Dust. Something older underneath. The smell of words that had been sitting in the dark for a long time waiting for someone to need them. I stood in the doorway for a moment just breathing it in. The room was large. Two stories of shelves lining every wall. A rolling ladder on a brass rail. A reading table in the center with a green lamp. Tall narrow windows letting in pale afternoon light. I had never been inside a room like this in my life.

Leonardo clicks his tongue and mutters under his breath, “Can’t believe I lost to this. How embarrassing.” “The man in orange is bad, Goldie. You need to punish him, or else,” The voice from the speaker says in a reprimanding manner, almost like scolding a child. Goldie groans. He staggers as he tries to stand up straight. Leonardo watches him with his guard up, steadily walking backwards. He wasn’t sure what they were planning with Goldie, but it does not look appealing.

the old master scolded her. Sharon sat down beside the bed and stared at the old master without saying anything. The old master was stunned by the way she was looking at him. He huffed irritatedly and asked, “Why are you looking at me? There isn’t gold on my face that you can pick up.” Sharon nodded understandingly and said, “Yes, there isn’t gold on your face. There are only wrinkles and liver spots on it. Tell me, you’re at such an elderly age. Why do you still have such a bad temper?”

“He’s an old friend of mine. He was just here for a chat. You don’t know him.” ‘Oh?’ Charlotte may not have seen the man’s face, but he was probably a young man based on his attire, figure, and hairstyle. Mr. Gold was a 60-year-old man, yet he actually had an old friend, who was at such a young age? However, Charlotte didn’t like poking into other people’s personal matters. Seeing as Mr. Gold did not want to explain, she would not ask. Despite her horrible mood, Charlotte returned to Virtual World to continue filming that afternoon.

The old man shook his head and said, “No.” Hearing this, the final hope in Philip’s heart shattered. However, the old man’s next sentence made Philip hopeful again. He said, “Golden Blood Syndrome, in fact, is the huge potential and energy hidden in the owner's body. If it isn’t released, it’ll destroy the life force of the owner. If we can properly guide the owner to activate the power of the golden blood, the owner's lifespan can be extended, but this method can only extend the lifespan. The ultimate outcome is still death. Unless we can find the Multidew Herb that doesn’t exist in the world, there’s no cure.”

This coin was coated in yellowish color that glinted in the morning light as it lay dormant on the palm of Maru. "That would be too much, young master!" the kindly old lady directly replied. Her voice was high in pitch as it reflected how surprised she was upon what she saw. The coin on the young boy's hands was a single gold coin. She dared not imagine the background of her mystical guests because it was simply unthinkable at this point. One gold coin is worth a thousand silvers and one silver is worth a thousand pennies. The value of what the boy offered her was way above the prices of her goods. The kindly old lady simply could not accept such a preposterous payment.

“I miss the good ol’ days. When your mama used to drag all of you down here. The Calloways practically paid my rent.” My mouth tugs into a smile. “Happy to be of service.” “How’s your mama? Still hitched to that buffoon?” “You mean my dad?” He scoffs. “If that’s what you call him. I would’ve treated her better. Woman never gave me a shot.” “Yeah, I can’t imagine why.” Oldie — probably not even his real name — is somewhere in his seventies now. He never corrected us when we called him that as kids. He just wore the nickname like a crown.

My body, already in pain, reeled at the impact, and for once I was grateful for everyone laughing at me as it helped to mask the small whimpers that managed to escape my mouth. “Cutter, what did you do this time at grandfather’s house,” Misty giggled in that grating way she did. “I swear, you’re the clumsiest person in the entire Pack. And on top of that, you look disgusting. Why are you all sweaty and gross? Now stand up and properly greet our new arrival.”

Then, he tried to rub his furry head against my cheek. Evan was blessed with a head of golden curls. They shone like the afternoon sunlight. I turned my face to the side, looking frigid. "You don't have to make it up to me. You are not the one who betrayed me." 17-year-old Evan had nothing to do with his 27-year-old self who broke our promise. His younger self moaned and sobbed. Tears fell from his sapphire blue eyes. "Bella, how did it come to this?"