Young Mother Gothel Novels & Stories

Still nothing happened. When the dust settled, an ugly sneer twisted through their throats. Suddenly, their heightened senses of sight and hearing were restored and almost instantly the sound vanished. A young girl about twelve years of age, wearing a foul robe of dark brown, stood at the top of the broken staircase. With a swift turn of her head, she gazed down at them, her face set in a cold, cruel smile. Her eyes looked like empty pits in the darkness, and her long, thin mouth opened in a hideous, cackling laugh. A twisted grin covered the right side of her face, and gleaming white fangs dripping with red blood stared back at them. An evil leer smeared across her face. In a voice like sto

I hadn't driven that day, and if I didn't leave soon, I'd miss the last subway train. "My life is so miserable! My husband died young, and now my daughter doesn't want me either! I might as well die!" Mom shouted and suddenly ran to the center of the road.

“Heartwood of course. She’s our mother. Her tree shelters our young ones. We live as long as our trees. Guess how old I am.” “Um. Maybe eight?” Zela gave a rippling laugh that sounded like bubbling water. “I’m 106. My tree is an Oak, same as mother’s. I would be barely past a sapling if I was only eight. Why do you want to see mother? Why is she expecting you?” A gasp of realisation. “You’re all Galadon knights aren’t you? You have that way of walking about you. All stiff sort of.”

Her head fell down and her eyes closed with remnants of tears in her eyes. Gerthel wept so hard as she held her mother’s lifeless body in her arms. “Momma!!!” II Five years after, Gerthel grew up to be a full-blown lady of extraordinary beauty. However, no male either human or werewolf tried to come near her for fear or disgust. Since birth, she has never been close to any male or female species, except her human friend, Karla, who is the daughter of the spouses Tony and Laura, the only ones she trusted when it comes to their farm and plantation operations.

The tortured spirits bodies were still in flames as they stopped running to and fro and focused on Angel. “Get away from me!” she screamed as they began to close in on her. “Lucille! Daughter, come to me!” shouted an old man as he moved toward her with his arms outstretched. “No, pa, no! I did not die in the fire. The men raped and killed me. I cannot go into the flames!” “The flames will purify you, child. Come to me. Let me help you or you’ll be left behind.” “No, pa! They are all screaming in pain. I don’t want to burn like that.”

The girls squealed, jumping back, as Elmina turned with a frown and pushed herself out of her chair. A Goblin stood in the doorway. The Elderly woman scowled, holding her arms crossed. Her hazel eyes glinted with annoyance, not fear. Lifting her chin, she said, “I don’t believe I granted you permission to enter.” Gerth grinned, a discomfiting sight on his hard, Goblin features. His sharp, stained teeth were ill-suited to the expression. He let out a sharp, bark-like laugh, causing the young girls to whimper. Elmina shot them a glance and they quieted, huddled in a group behind her. Gerth narrowed his gaze at them for a moment before turning back to Elmina. “The Raamija would speak with you.”