This Old Man Book Novels & Stories

Maybe this is really just a dream? “Wah! It’s a large rock?” After a few minutes, I finally found something that isn’t a cloud. I quickly climb the large rock and when I reached there is an old man sitting on top of it and was eating a bowl of ramen? “WHO IS THIS MAN? Am I dreaming about an old man? Why? Or maybe he’s some kind of a deity perhaps? Maybe I am really in heaven?” The old man then quickly looked at me surprised, he quickly finished his food and clean his face.

So, this happens once in a while. "Hideous, my boy!" Hearing his tone of voice, Hideous couldn't help but frown as he massaged his temple. His old man is surely going to tell him something right now. "How are you?" Mario's booming voice echoed through the receiver, filled with warmth and familiarity.

I was sure it couldn't be a room because their house was large as well. He came back out with two duvets and a pillow. “You should have tried making friends with us as well. Many of the young people today don't understand that they would get old too and life can be very lonely in old age.” The man seemed to be a person who loved to say his thoughts. “I will surely stop by whenever I get the chance to from now onwards,” I said and I meant it because he seemed like a very nice and wise man. He had a lot of books in his library and the reason why he had not slept before I knocked was because he was reading.

The old man and his battered stack of books were nowhere to be seen. “Of course,” Leila muttered, scanning the crowd. Her gut told her she wasn’t the only one chasing this thread. The old man had probably sold the book or stashed it somewhere safe. She approached a vendor hawking mismatched porcelain and rusted tin toys. “The guy with the books—leather-bound, big ones. Where is he from?” The vendor gave her a toothy grin, clearly uninterested. “Who knows? He comes and goes when he feels like it. Not much of a scheduler, that one.”

He asked me and again, I swallowed hard as I tried to think of the best thing to say. “Well…it’s not a normal kind of book. You might find it weird and I don’t really know what you might think of me”, I said calmly, and the old man started laughing. “Well…inasmuch as I don’t like boasting, the truth now is that I might be the only one who knows every single book and where you can get it from”, he explained. After a while of pondering, I concluded that it won’t be best to let him know that we were four brothers mated a girl.

Kian did the same and walked to him. "The Flowery Road." He told him. The old man gave Kian the book and smiled at him. "Page 67." He thanked him and turned his back. Twelve rows of long bookshelves were lined up in front of Kian. While holding the book the old man had just handed him, he went straight to the last row where the poetry books were displayed. He slowly walked to the corner of the last row. A huge reed farm painting was displayed on the wall. It was as tall as Kian.

Ameliah asked with a curious expression… “I know you more than you know yourself my child” The old woman said with a smile. Ameliah stood there confused by what the woman was saying. “Which book do you want my child?” The woman asked. Ameliah came back to her senses and looked at the stack of books. She went through it and finally picked a book. “I’ll take this one”Ameliah said as she showed the book to the old woman. The old woman smiled as if she knew already what Ameliah would choose. Ameliah paid the old woman and looked at the book cover, it looked old.

“I got excited and thought that this weak old man can finally have a day for himself.” It’s true that Grandpa Malu was an old man, but there’s nothing weak about him. He has grey hair and a mustache proving his increasing age, and the wrinkles around his mouth and forehead were deeply carved. But his body looked sturdy and his eyes looked so sure making me think that gramps may not be weak as he says he should be. I approached the huge pile of books in one of the corners of his hut. This was my collection. I found this in the ‘Cursed site’ and brought it here so that my parents won’t burn it.

I asked, touching a particular thick book. “That one’s about bloodline history,” he said when I held it up. “It was written by a half-mad seer,” he added. His answers were brief, but still it felt like a conversation. I wanted to continue, so I grabbed a book tucked behind the others. The book was so old it looked like it had survived a fire. Its edges were burnt, and blackened. The title had long faded away, and the cover was cracked with age. “What about this one?” I asked, pointing to it without touching. “Why are you keeping it?”

We waited patiently while he flipped pages. "No, not this one." He put the book back under his desk and took out an identical one. "What’s in there?" Mia asked, standing up on her tiptoes to better peer at the French writing. "It’s a record of every item I’ve ever sold and who I sold it to," he said. "Ah-ha!" He said, pointing. "Here it is." The old man turned the book around so that Arthur could see it. "I will write all this information down for you," the old man said.