White Beard Novels & Stories

“You’re here too? What is this place?” As I moved closer, his body jerked violently. His form twisted, bones shifting beneath skin, until he stood taller and older. Long white hair spilled down his back, reaching the ground. His beard followed, just as white, just as long. I froze where I stood.

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.

But I still wanted to see the face of the man just once before I surrendered to darkness. As if some power was listening to my wish, almost immediately. The person turns around to look at the enemies surrounding him. And that's when I see him. He can be in his 40's but looked to be in late 60's His face was unkept, with long beard and rough skin . Clothes torn and old, like he has not changed in ages. Traces of white hair could be seen in his brown locks ,which were long tied in a ponytail. Running his hand through his long hair, he takes a long sigh. Seeing the wolves.

There were more than a dozen figures on this platform. All of them stood there, except for one person. The man had a peaceful face and a smile on his face. He had an air of old age and white hair, but the skin on his face was as white and delicate as a baby's. If not for his white hair and beard, it would be hard to tell who he was. The man's eyes opened and closed, but there were wisps of mysterious light in his turbid eyes from time to time, which made people unable to ignore him.

Walking in, I saw two men and a woman standing off to the right laughing together. One was shorter, grey hair, full beard and looked to be around 65. The second man was taller, around 6 foot, brown hair with grey peppered in there and wrinkles covering his face. He looked to be older, around 70 years old. The woman was stunning with her bleach blonde hair, average height and build with hints of wrinkles liner her forehead. They all turned to look at us when we entered the room

I say as I move my bag off the seat beside me. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, trying not to be too suspicious. His face is covered in wrinkles with a long white beard that reaches the top of his chest. A pair of brown eyes stare down at his bag as he digs through it. He is wearing a plaid shirt with an old pair of overalls on top. His hands are chapped, and his knuckles are cracked. It is clear that he has spent most of his life working outside. Taking in a deep breath, I can tell that he is not a werewolf or a witch. That thought alone makes me relax a little at his presence.

Only this time, the rocking chair looks brand new. The chair is tucked in the corner of the hut and is so far away from where we stand that the old man’s face is obscured in the shadows. But as he rocks back and forth, I notice that his snow-white hair is all dishevelled. It is a mess and dried tree leaves are sticking to them. And it seems as if he has not shaved in years for his beard reaches the ground. And like many old men who have lived past their prime, he looks scrawny and frail. Helios and I would be fools not to know that this man is no ordinary old man.

Swoosh! A beam of white light descended from the sky, settling on the main hall and manifesting as an elderly man with white hair and an otherworldly aura. Clad in a white robe, the old man radiated an air of sanctity. The moment he materialized, he chastised, “After all these years, you’re still as rude as ever. Where has your contemplation led you during this time?”

An old man with white beard and hair followed him in a vigorous manner. The man seemed to be in his 80s or 90s, with a long beard floating in front of his chest. His hair, beard and eyebrows were all white, like silver needles, but he was in good spirits. He was strong, ruddy, and looked like a male lion. He had an imposing manner and not one wrinkle on his face. His eyes were as sharp as lightning, giving people an odd feeling since he had white hair and a youthful face. He was Lu Xiongfei, the first master in the Snow Province, and the former president of the Tranquility Academy.

I mentally whined before taking the flowers from him when he flashed his charming smile while forwarding the flowers in front. “ Thanks “ I muttered , touching the soft bundles of colourful flowers he chose for me. He was dressed in a pale yellow-green plain shirt, pairing it up with a white trouser and brown shoes. His hairs nicely combed but those little curly baby hairs of him that always falls on his forehead when the winds passes through his hair making him scrunch his nose in anonymous before he runs his finger in those curls to set them again, and everytime he does that, my heart skips a bit. The seven ‘o’ clock beard suited his smile the best, though i was the one who suggested the i