Older Woman Novels & Stories

"Grandma!" "Ah..." The old lady finally came to her senses. "What's wrong with you? Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere?" Cecelia looked worried. "No, I just thought of something." The old lady hid her true emotions very well. "Did you send the photo?" "Yes, I sent it to you on WeChat." Although the old lady was a ninety-year-old girl, she was still following the trend. She played with her mobile phone so fast that she could use WeChat messages and other things!

He definitely did not want to be near it. The old woman sat on a sofa in the little sitting room. She looked like a typical grandmother. With silver hair cut short, crescent moon shaped glasses sitting on her nose, and a long pink nightgown. She was even knitting. But Roman knew better. She was one of the most dangerous creatures he had ever met. “You should be nicer to Corvin," she said without preamble. Roman rolled his eyes. He was never nice to anybody. "Then you should teach him some proper manners," he suggested as he sat across from her. She didn't even look up from her latest project. She just continued to knit and it was beginning to grate on Roman's nerves.

As she enter the alley an old hand suddenly touch her hand. " Eh ...old lady , what is it ? " She ask curiously . " Young man , I have these . Can you give us what you have . I have two grandchildren and their father had been sick because of the cold . My husband is working alone in the shop . My daughter in law is looking after my son . " She look sad .

Stacey and I are warmly welcomed by her elderly grandparents, who exude kindness and generosity. I extend my hand to shake the hand of the elderly man, who wears a charming smile as if he has been anticipating our arrival. Stacey's grandmother, despite being in her eighties, exudes beauty. Her silver hair is tied in a ponytail, and the wrinkles on her face reflect her graceful age. A white woman with a British accent, she forgoes the handshake and instead goes in for a warm hug, embracing me with genuine affection.

“What do you want, Mia. After so many years, you are finally asking of me.” I saw an old woman in a white robe standing in front of us, her hands on her waist as she glared at mom with her brows raised, as if the woman had disturbed her from h sleep. I am finally seeing this being face to face in their actual human self, and not the ugly appearance they loved to wear as their garment. She was quite beautiful, but a little bit old . She must be somewhere around sixty to sixty five years old and she wasn’t wobbling as I had expected all witches to look like.

The old lady commented. “Keep your eyes off my mate.” Morning warned the old lady. The woman laughed. Or rather it would be more appropriate to say that she cackled. “You’re really funny girl. Maybe if I were fifty years younger then I might look at him, but by now I’m already three limbs in the grave. So you don’t have to see me as competition eh?” The old lady said.

Confided another dressed in a boldly embroidered dress depicting mustard seed flowers. “Ladies! Ladies!” Shouted an older woman. Her hair was streaks of gray, white, and silver. She wore a simple beige dress showing her ample hips. “Ladies, your attention, please.” The chatter slowly died down. All eyes on the older woman anticipating her instruction.

I flinched, startled, my heart leaping into my throat. Years of being on guard, of living in a world where danger lurked just beneath the surface, hadn’t entirely left me, I turned quickly, ready to defend myself. It was an old woman. Her face was a roadmap of wrinkles, her eyes kind and clear, holding a depth of wisdom that seemed ancient. She was small, frail-looking, wearing traditional clothes in faded blues and greens and she held a small basket woven from straw, filled with what looked like flowers and herbs. She smiled, a wide, toothless grin that radiated warmth, she spoke in a language I didn’t understand, her voice soft and musical.

The scent of herbs and smoke filled the air, earthy and ancient. What was this place? Would Rylan be happy I'd come here? Seated on the ground was an old woman, her back hunched and her hair silver, falling in long, tangled waves around her shoulders. Her eyes, though cloudy with age, seemed to pierce through me the moment they met mine. "Sit, Lyra. Anyone ever told you of the dowager mother?" she asked, gesturing to the cushion across from her. I sat down. "No. I've never been told of the dowager mother. And this is the first time I've noticed this tent."

This old woman should not have so much strength. "I am so sorry dear. I am a diabetic patient. I was walking fast to go to the washroom and bumped into you. I did not realize that you would fall like this " The old woman said in a hoarse voice. Hearing the old woman's words, Stella became even more angry, "What are you doing here at this old age, instead of lying in an old age home? Can you not see me with the big eyes of yours? Or have you lost your sight as you get older?" Stella shouted.