Novel & Cerita Book Review Picture

She wouldn't mind checking everything out, or whatever called her attention. There was another shelf after the award shelf. A bookshelf. It didn't contain so many books, although he had something that hooked her attention. Book of art. Clinton had a black hardcover drawing book he called Book Of Art. He used it to draw his imagination. Anthony had one too, meaning he also had an eye for art.

Except this one had pictures in it. My fingers grabbed a handful of pages and I flipped open the book. The picture that caught my eye was of what appeared to be a woman lying on the lap of a man, while a man had his head buried in the crook of her neck. Except that her neck was covered in red, which I assumed to be blood. I flipped the page and was met with a picture of a woman and man seeming to be making love. He was above her and she had her legs wide open. Her neck was still bloody and the man's fangs were dripping in her blood.

He knew what it was—the insignia of Beocraft. Kevin ambled across the room, browsing through the books on the shelf. Most of the titles and pictures in the books were disturbing. His eyes were drawn to the title of a particular book. Torture technique. The cover page had a disturbing image of a blood-soaked heart being pulled out of a man’s chest by what appeared to be a surgeon. An intense feeling of revulsion grew within him as he stared. Then he noticed a little study table beside the shelf; a lamp and a book sat on top.

Her eyes narrowed on a drawing, bringing the book closer to her face, a faltering yet confused grin on her face for a fleeting moment. "There are- " she paused, shaking her head for a moment, bringing the book up for another examination as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. "In this picture," she began, her eyes trailing to mine slowly, a single finger against the image, "I-it almost looks like-like there are actual tears in his eyes." I snatched the book from her as if it was a need, my heart pounding harshly within me as I stared at the picture. I had never noticed this before.

"Well, am not, but I am mad with the adult that gave you the book. Tell me, did an adult give this to you? I need to know the adult that did this." "I stole it." "You what?" "Am sorry. I know I shouldn't be reading that." "Why do you think you shouldn't be reading it?" "You know, the pictures of naked men and women joined but sitting up, their legs splayed like two crabs, their hands holding on to each other's shoulders. Or looking at a woman on top of a man, stretched along his length, their bodies clasped together over their heads." "I can see that the image is still clear in your head. You wanted to read it to see couples having sex, am I right?"

I’d just tuck him in quickly and be on my way. However, as I got closer I noticed he had a book in his lap. Did he fall asleep reading? My mind went back to the pictures he'd shown me of Thomas earlier. Was this really a book or was this the "album" he had been putting together? Curiosity got the better of me. Slowly, carefully, I lifted it from his lap and walked over to the window. I opened the cover to see that it was, in fact, full of pictures. I leaned close to the window, examining them in the dim light. Though I wasn’t really vain enough to say my body was fantastic in them, the quality of the photos themselves was undeniable.

Penelope had gone back to her room to take a short nap. She finished the book she held and shut it. Walking slowly towards the large bookshelf, she dropped it and picked another one. "Taming her wild heart." She read the title out loud. Her eyes lit up at the erotic book cover. It was a picture of a man with dark hair and dreamy eyes. A blonde haired woman straddled him on a bed, her head thrown back and her eyes closed. The picture reminded her of Henry and the intimate moment they shared in the bathroom some nights ago.

I pointed at them. “Yeah, I do. They've always been visible.” He responded nonchalantly. I shook my head and said, “No, this is different, they're moving.” Curious, he leaned forward, peering into the book attentively. Then he looked at me for a while and said, “Nah, I don't see it.” “You don't?” I asked, surprised. Because they're still moving. He shrugged and picked his phone back up. I flipped to another page that had a picture, and this time, the pictures were no longer still; they were moving in action, demonstrating the manipulation of the elements.

—Flashback— “Bronx, there’s a monster in my closet. Maybe it’s a witch.” I peek into his room. He’s reading a book. I bet it doesn’t have pictures. He says books with pictures are little kid books. I like books with pictures though. Maybe when I’m ten like him, I won’t like picture books anymore? That sounds boring. I’ll like picture books forever. “There’s no monster or witch in your closet.” He keeps reading. “It’s your imagination.”

On the table next to her sat a large book, nearly as large as the album she currently held. After a few pages she turned to a page where there was a photo of her parents with the lords. There were five lords in the picture. The fifth lord she assumed was the banished lord. He seemed innocent with his dark wavy hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and square face smiling. Within the picture, her mother held the same book that was in the garden pic. I wonder what that book is. Vastria wondered as she tried to look closer. I did not see the book in the library. I wonder if my father has it. Or…. She trailed off and grabbed the two books her father gave to her in the office.