The dust of the country road swirled around Martin’s worn sandals as he trudged home, his stomach growling with the familiar pangs of hunger. He was a wisp of a boy, barely ten years old, with eyes that held the weight of too many hardships. His mother, frail and perpetually ill, relied on him for everything, from gathering firewood to earning meager coins from odd jobs.
As he rounded a bend, a sleek, black automobile roared past, kicking up a cloud of dust that stung his eyes. He coughed, waving his hand to clear the air, and then noticed the car had stopped further down the road. It was angled awkwardly, half on the pavement, half in the ditch. A figure slumped inside.
Curiosity piqued, Martin ran towards the car. Inside, a man, dressed in fine clothes, was choking, his face turning an alarming shade of purple. He was clutching his throat, his eyes wide with panic. Martin recognized him; it was Sylvester Thorne, the wealthy landowner whose grand estate loomed over their humble village.
Without hesitation, Martin grabbed a rock from the roadside and smashed the car window. Glass shattered everywhere as he reached in to unlock the door. “Stand back!” he shouted, pulling Sylvester out onto the pavement.
Sylvester was gasping, his hands still clutching his throat. Martin knew he had to act quickly. He remembered a trick he’d seen his father use once, a desperate measure. With all his might, Martin delivered several sharp blows to Sylvester’s back. Suddenly, a chunk of apple flew from Sylvester’s mouth, and he gasped for air, his lungs finally filling with air.
The rich man looked at the boy with tears in his eyes and kept thanking him for saving his life, his voice hoarse. “You… you saved my life, boy. I… I owe you everything.”
Martin, flustered by the man’s gratitude, simply nodded. “Just glad you’re alright, sir.” And then, he turned and walked away, his stomach still growling, his mind already turning to the task of finding something for his mother to eat.
The next morning, Martin was jolted awake by his sister, Lily’s, excited screams. “Marty! Marty! Come quick!”
He rushed outside, his mother calling after them in confusion, her voice weak but laced with concern. There, on their doorstep, sat a large, brown bag. It was tied with a silken ribbon, a stark contrast to the rough, worn wood of their porch.
Lily, her eyes wide with wonder, tugged at the ribbon. Martin cautiously untied it, and the contents spilled out: a loaf of fresh bread, a basket of plump, red apples, a jar of honey, and a small pouch filled with coins. At the bottom of the bag, a folded note lay nestled amongst the food.
Martin unfolded it, his eyes scanning the elegant script. “To Martin, for your bravery and kindness. From Sylvester Thorne.”
His mother, her face etched with a mixture of relief and astonishment, reached for the bread, her fingers trembling. “It’s from Mr. Thorne,” Martin said, his voice hushed. “He remembered.”
The food was a godsend. They hadn’t had a proper meal in days. The coins, though few, were enough to buy medicine for his mother and some seeds for their small garden. But it was more than just the material goods. It was the knowledge that someone, especially someone as powerful as Sylvester Thorne, had seen their plight and cared.
News of Martin’s heroism spread through the village like wildfire. People who had once turned a blind eye to their poverty now offered smiles and words of encouragement. Even the gruff baker, who had always refused them credit, gave them a warm loaf of bread and a wink.
Sylvester Thorne, true to his word, didn’t forget Martin. He visited their small cottage, his presence filling the cramped space with an air of grandeur. He spoke to Martin’s mother, his voice gentle and respectful. He offered to pay for her medical treatment and to send Martin to school.
Martin, overwhelmed by the man’s generosity, looked at his mother, her eyes shining with hope. She nodded, her lips forming a silent “yes.”
Life changed for Martin and his family. His mother’s health improved, and he excelled in school, his sharp mind eager to learn. He never forgot the day he saved Sylvester Thorne, nor the kindness that followed. He understood that even in the midst of hardship, a single act of courage and compassion could change everything. And Sylvester Thorne, in return, learned that true wealth wasn’t measured in possessions, but in the lives he touched and the gratitude he received.
Vera Wang, 74, ‘aging backwards’ in new poolside pics | News
“U r aging backward sis!” said an admirer in the post’s comments section.
One person said, “You can’t be 70,” while another made the joke, “HOW is it possible you look like this?” I must instantly set down this piece of pizza.
A fan posted on Facebook: “YOU ARE THE MOMENT! CLASSIC ELEGANCE, GRACE, BEAUTY, AND COMPOSURE!
Another fan said, “Time bows down to you and stops moving.”
The star of upscale bridal attire recently declared, “I dye my hair, I’m [about to be] 75 years old,” on her Wiser Than Me with Julia Louis-Dreyfus podcast, that she isn’t going to let the greys show in her hair anytime soon.
She said, “I would look like a bad skunk,” according to People.
The 74-year-old designer has created exquisite wedding dresses for A-list clients including Selena Gomez, Kim Kardashian, and Victoria Beckham. The pioneer of the fashion industry, who designed wedding dresses for these celebrities, expressed her desire to see her two daughters, Josephine, 30, and Cecilia, 33, marry.
“I hope I get to attend both weddings before I pass away. She stated on the show, “I really hope I’m still here and strong enough to do everything.
Vera previously disclosed that she never made an effort to keep her young “in a fanatical, obsessive way.”
“I started working in fashion when I was 19 years old. In an interview for BBC 100 Women in 2022, she stated, “Not in front of the camera, behind it.” “I never gave youth any thought, perhaps because I deal with the world’s most attractive ladies on a regular basis. And as a result, I see them more as my muses; perhaps this is a constructive way to deal with aging.
On June 27 of this year, the opulent wedding gown designer will celebrate turning 75. She revealed some personal details in the interview, saying that “work” is a component of her “magic elixir” that gives her a youthful appearance.
“I always said that: vodka cocktail, a lot of sleep, [and] work – work is the magic elixir,” she remarked in an interview with Elle last year. She also disclosed that she stays out of the sun.
Although I’m flattered that people find me to have aged nicely, that was never my intention. I stay out of the sun, drink vodka, and sleep. However, I enjoy working. She declared, “I don’t want to fit into one box.
The mother of two said to People in April that she and her husband are “cake people,” so dessert will undoubtedly be served for their 75th birthday party.
Plans for birthdays are not set in stone. 75 is a lot of strain, she said to the publication.
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