White Beard Name Novels & Stories

-BLAYNE'S POV* “Gamma Blayne,” a shaky senior voice interrupted. Provoked, an incensed growl shook the ground, whipping air strikes of a harsh wind into the old man’s face. He clutched clumsily at his walking stick with his decrepit fingers. His hair had winter-white tresses. He had hard, wizened eyes and a clipped Abe Lincoln beard. His face was toil-worn and sun-tanned from exposure and he walked with a weary, lethargic air.

The middle-aged man glanced at Severin, then stood up, and said to Severin, "Didn't he ever tell you what his name is?" Severin smiled awkwardly and said, "Hehe, come to think of it, no, he hasn't. I call him Old Wacko because everyone calls him that, and he calls me Little Wacko!" "Old Wacko? Little Wacko?" The middle-aged man's lips twitched a few times before he said, "His name is Hartmut Waldenberg and I am his junior, Wuhlricht Blausch!" "Oh, so his name is Hartmut!"

Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence that his last name is Gray. What she found most attractive was his shiny light brown hair, he was carrying a classic Taper haircut which complimented the mustache and beard; he had brushed the quiff upwards to give him the celebrity look. His lips were attractively pink, and given the amount of melanin he had for a white guy. He wasn’t the usual pale white male, he was a bit dim but not of color either; he was just somewhere in between.

"He had a clean-shaven beard and a neat mustache. His voice is very sweet and can make a lady feel horny" "Wow! What is his name?" "His name is Alex Wayne. He owns an enterprise" "Interesting, you are very lucky then" "I met the wrong person" "How?" "The room I entered was occupied by a billionaire, not George Chulley" "Billionaire? Are you serious?"

He stands straighten on his back removing his dark shade while caressing his beards. "I'm Sheep by name and you?" His name sounds funny. Like what the fuck? Sheep? I tried not to gloat at his name. I only nodded accurately to his words well he was done battering with his words so I just tried to ignored him like a stud of cigarettes but he was hell bent.

By her father’s beard, these photographs had to be taken within the year or so of their death. Her dad had started growing it out a year earlier and at the time of his death, it had only just became something that looked like an actual beard. Her dad was cursed with, as he called it, a baby face and he wanted to grow out the beard to look more ‘manly’. Gail remembered he was talking about letting it grow super long, so when he went gray, he’d look like a real wizard.

"That means we don't owe each other anything anymore, then. Keep working hard and be yourself." The man turned to leave, and Wilbur stared at him for a while before shouting, "Hey, Senior! I forgot to ask what your name was!" The man stopped in his tracks, turning to look at Wilbur with a smile. "I've been around so long that I've forgotten the name I had in the past. But I do like Dasha and gave myself a Dashan name during the few centuries I spent traveling around there. You can call me Kaiser Fern." "Senior Kaiser, when will we see each other again?"

I pleaded with the red-eyed man. His expression changed to one of ponder and I could see every line on his overly wrinkled face twitching. He had to have looked at least seventy years old, but from what I knew about witches and warlocks, he was probably a lot older than that. He had a long, pointy white beard that laid on his chest. If he had a kinder, fatter face, you could have mistaken him for Santa, but he was thin and frail looking. Maybe Santa's crack addict brother.

The mysterious man in the distance walked over through the bamboo forest, and his every step seemed full of sword intent. In the bamboo forest, Philip could not see his face clearly at first, but now that he got closer, Philip could see him clearly. This mysterious man looked no different from an ordinary old man except for his beard and eyebrows. His long gray beard almost reached his stomach, and his eyebrows were like silver swords. He wore a long robe, which revealed his thin figure when the wind blew. Philip bowed and said respectfully, “Greetings, sir. My name is Philip Clarke.”