Books Like Yellowface Novels & Stories

The crowd shoved past, irritated, but I turned on Mira and gave her a look sharp enough to shut her up. “You will wear what looks good,” I snapped. “Not what you think makes you mysterious. Black makes you look like you’re hiding. Yellow makes people look at you. That’s what you need. People watching you. People noticing you. You want them to whisper that you’re weak, or you want them to remember you walked into Panther City with your head up?” Her lips pressed together. The glare she threw me said she hated it. “Fine,” she muttered. “Yellow.” “Good choice,” I said, shoving the top into the bag and moving on.

At some point, I felt sorry for the trepadised doctors observing how frightened they wouldbecome whenever marco noticed my features contorted in pain so I did my best to mask the pain I would feel as I recieved my injections. After the doctors left, marco called a maid who had my bath prepared after which we both had dinner in my room. He had his arm wrapped around my shoulder with my petite figure hauled against his large frame. He was reading me one of the books I did not get the chance to complete before I got hit by this dreadful illness. It was tittled 'Faceless' by Amma Darko, a Ghanaian novel. I really loved the novel. It portrayed the phenomenon of the street child especially females

"Mr Philip sent me to give this to you." "Thanks." I collected the book to inspect the front cover, while he showed off some dimples. The book had a raccoon as it's display photo. The raccoon looked thrilled to bits with both hands up and mouth open like it was shouting. The background was yellow, it had the words, 'furiosly happy' boldly written on it. Under the book title, there were word too that said, 'a funny book about terrible things' written in smaller font, while the author's name was Jenny Lawson.

The yellow was overwhelming, making my eyes water. Had she lost her mind? This woman drove up the fucking wall. Fuck! As I scanned the room, my eyes landed on a figure lying on the floor in the corner. Heaven was sprawled out, wearing devilishly short shorts that left little to the imagination. Her long, toned legs kicked lazily in the air as she read from a book, her mouth stuffed with Skittles. The candy's bright colors seemed to match the yellow of the room, creating a jarring, surreal effect.

Then, someone whom like them, saved me, and even helped me with my bags, he seemed kind, Aaron, his name was oddly familiar, like I have seen him or heard his name somewhere, I was surprise with myself, that I let him accompany me without hesitation. I looked at the book I was reading, I accidentally saw this in an antique shop, and decide to bought it, it’s a bit torn off, but I can still read the pages, so I bought it, it’s kind uh, interesting. My eyes grew widen when I saw a familiar topic. Colors of life That’s the chapter title, what the heck? This is freaking amazing! I was just thinking about it at the moment! Woah! Yellow, one of the most common aura color, it was said to be the col

~Kyle The book didn’t look like much at first to be honest. If anything, it looked too old and too pathetic to carry any useful information. The pages were yellowed, the cover half-eaten by time and maybe rats, and the spine crackled every time I turned a page. Nothing screamed forbidden in this book—but then again, the real ones never did.

It was impossible for me to read them all. I looked outside again. The sky was starting to darken. I should go back before it gets darker. As I moved to pick up my bag from the table, the corner of my eye caught something. A book on the bottom row of the shelf looked different from the thick gray-covered books. It was a pale yellow book with golden curvy writing on the side. I crouched down, took the book, and read the title. MYSTERIES OF GOLDEN VALLEY THROUGH THE AGES

He looked at her carefully, contemplating her seductive facial features.Then he ran his fingers over her bare back and said: "You are so beautiful, dangerously beautiful. Whoever sees you will never know how ugly you are on the inside. How will he know that beneath this beautiful face lies boundless evil, and absolute hatred. No one who sees will know, that you are just rubbish from the inside." she smiled at him. She brought her lips closer to his, then said: "Well. You know what they say? Trash only attracts trash."

Yam sliced it open slowly, hands trembling. Inside was their book. “The Art of Staying.” Cover: a sunflower. A crooked shelf. Two mugs—one chipped. And behind it all, the suggestion of a fan, mid-spin. Franc stared at it like it might whisper back. “Feels unreal,” Yam said. Franc flipped through pages. Some with artwork. Others with Yam’s poetry. Their story—wired beginnings and all—now bound in matte finish. “I think this book breathes,” Franc said.

The entire hall smells of old books and bleach. Row after row of neatly lined books with their spines facing outward, colour-coded with dots, fiction section arranged in alphabetical order. She scanned slowly until her eyes met Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's "Half of a yellow sun". She took it out, and then went behind in search of a place to sit and devour the book.