White Hair On Brown Skin Novels & Stories

I closed my eyes for a moment before I decided to take a bath. I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled over to the mirror, still half-asleep. As I stared at my reflection, something felt off. I blinked several times, trying to focus. My white hair strands—the ones that had always been there in small streaks—were longer. Much longer. And there were more patches of white spread throughout my hair, giving it an eerie contrast against the rest of my dark locks. I ran my fingers through it, confused. It wasn’t like this yesterday, was it?

At a closer look, even the hair all around his body from the follicles all over his body's skin is blue. Then the following young man is black-haired with black eyes. With everything on his physique, even the color of his skin is black. Then the following young man scares me. One look at him and I close my eyes. He looks like a ghost. His hair and everything on his body look colorless, like a mirror. It is a mist-kind mirage reflection that is all over him. fuck what is this? I look at the last young man from afar who is standing up and reading himself to walk back over to me. He is the most normal one, with brown eyes and brown hair.

I stood up to approach them. He is white as in! He is like pure snow. No no. He was like a man made from pure white snow. From his white hair. It seems that the whiteness of his skin is not normal, does he still have blood? Maybe his blood is white too?! Does she stretch out in the sun?! If not, I will expose him. I looked into his eyes. Silver. Light silver eyes, the edge of his iris is black, even the color of his pupils. Those beautiful eyes are brand new to me.

I hastily put on my rob and something catches my attention as I was about to brush my teeth. My freaking hair is white! I mean literally white. Last I checked, I had raven black hair. My blue eyes have lost their vibrance. They look icy blue. Oh dear wolf spirits, I am not sure if I am making any sense. That explains the odd looks I was getting from a lot of people. Even doctor Boyce asked me if I was really me. Honestly, I just brushed it off to him being surprised to see me after a while.

Most of his white hair had fallen away, leaving him bald with scant hair remaining. His skin spotted red dots and his fingers and toes had become brittle and yellow. Only a small piece of fabric wrapped around his waist. Her mouth fell open, how had things gotten this bad within a few days?

With cautious steps, I tiptoed to the bathroom and softly closed the adorned door behind me. Turning on the faucet, I splashed water onto my face, then reached for a towel to dry off. When I glanced into the mirror, a scream escaped my lips. My once brown hair, flowing down to the middle of my back, had transformed into a cascade of white platinum, trailing down to my buttocks. My eyes, previously a deep brown, now blazed with a fiery orange intensity, akin to the brilliance of the sun. Freckles, once scattered across my face, had vanished entirely. My complexion had also undergone a remarkable change, evolving from pale white to a radiant olive hue, leaving my skin flawless and blemish-free

And it’s frustrating to some extent, because right now, I want to lay back in bed and snuggle closer. I turn my head and watch him with the corner of my eyes. I have never seen someone as dashing as him. His cheeks are high and his jaw is so harp I feel like you could cut yourself if you dared to touch it. His hair reaches his chin, the sides of his head shaved and trimmed into a perfect fade. The hair is a lovely white color, that’s somehow warm looking, like milk, not like snow, and I wonder if it was bleached to be like this. But as I dare to look more, i see that his eyebrows and lashes are both a soft shade of gray and I wonder-

Every line, every wrinkle, every blemish was amplified, as if highlighted by the contrast of her deathly complexion. Her hair, once a beautiful white-blonde that seemed to shimmer in the sun, now lay limp and lifeless against her colourless skin. It was as if the vitality had been drained from every strand, leaving it looking ashen and dry. Strands of hair were matted to her forehead and cheeks, and I could see that it was brittle and fragile, like it could shatter at the slightest touch.

Jon started. “How doin’,” the face attached to the hand said. “I’m Brian Elder.” A withered man, fitting his name, somewhere between seventy and eighty, though still spry. He was nearly hairless, with a close-cropped crown of white that blended seamlessly into his alabaster skin. The rest, eyebrows, nose, ears, cheeks, and chin, were scraped as clean as they could be. So white was he that it was nearly impossible to tell where his teeth began and gums ended. He might’ve been mistaken for an albino if not for his deep black eyes.

I glanced over at Zion whose fur was a dark shade of brown and so was Father’s the only difference between them is that Father’s two front paws are white, and the very tip of Zion’s tail is white. My wolf on the other hand does not resemble either Mother or Father’s thick coats of fur. Mother’s wolf is black and the fur on her belly is white. My wolf on the other hand is covered in a light shade of grey fur, my roots are white which almost resembles the ends of my hair. Most wolves would just describe me as white but there is a clear difference between white and grey.