Neighborly Book Mga Nobela at Kwento

she asked and glanced at the front page again, where centered bold black letters proclaimed,Three Days with You by Wendy Andrews “My neighbor’s masterpiece,” Jack told her with a meaningful nod. Sarah raised her eyebrows. “She wrote a book?” Jack nodded with a crooked smile. “Yep! Obviously.” “And you’re the first who gets to read it or what?” Sarah’s tone had turned slightly scathing. Jack shrugged. “One of the first at least, I guess.” He grinned. “Supposedly she needs an unbiased guy to verify that what she writes isn’t totally off from the male perspective… ”

True or false...no passion for a name was going to hold me accountable to this plot. As her neighbour, I had known Cynthia for a while, and we were just that. Neighbours...until now. Albeit, that grace that was her body, one capable of rendering a man speechless made me wonder why a lady like her was all alone in a big house. And seeing I didn't want to take the glory of wanting to justify myself around her considering we had just been friends for some months now, I liked where this was heading.

One of them roared, “Someone dared to mess with our family? They must have a death wish! We’ll make them pay!” Vera nodded furiously. Her eyes brimmed with malice as she shot a glare at my door. Just as they were about to start pounding and causing a ruckus, the door creaked open. Victor leaned against the doorframe. A cigarette dangling from his lips as he sneered. “Wow, don’t you know that your yelling is disturbing the neighbors? I guess your hearing is gone. Better get to a hospital to fix that. And while you’re at it, you might want to get your brains checked. Seems like you’re all in the late stages of brain cancer.”

Beautiful things are lethal. I squint, peering into eyes of deep, burnished brown that seem to hold a hidden fire within. Flecks of amber dance at the edges, pushing back at the unnerving coldness in them. Thick, black lashes flutter against tanned, golden skin as his gaze narrows at the blood on my flimsy nightdress, and against my better judgement, I blurt, “It isn’t mine.” The man, whom I recognize from yesterday as my neighbor raises his brows as he helps me up to my feet. “Is he dead?”

Looking at the boy, no one could say that he belonged to the poorest of the poor community in town. Mr. Ben sat in his corner as Shiva worked. Once in a while, he would pick up a book, hold it to his nose and take a deep breath – inhaling the musky odor, redolent of dust and dreams. He would cough a little as the dust entered his old lungs, and he would put the book back on the floor.

My neighbor was no old man or woman, no kidding, save for the fact that whoever was in there disrupted my first sleep in my new home with crazily loud music; old people can't move things about like that. It annoyed the shit out of me. I got home hoping to warm my mother's tuna casserole and get some work done but the little sounds that came every five minutes made me lose focus on the paperwork In front of me. So much paperwork about my new workplace. As much as it annoyed me, I was curious. Call it reporter instincts but I really wanted to know who my next door neighbor was. The sounds subsided for almost ten minutes and I assumed they were asleep. Finally! Some peace and quiet.

Even though I was banned but he had forgotten that I borrowed a book from the library weeks ago which happened to be the darkest one called The Black Cults because I was eager to know how the black cults kill the Viper in that book. The second weird person my life is entangled with is one of our neighbors whose a Voodoo man. He never wears a good clothes and his dressing becomes unbecoming to me anytime I see him. His detached house is rightly opposite to ours so I have chance to satisfy my curiosity by going there. My mom would never allow me to do so but I don't give up easily.

Not like I was reviewing the book. Dang! I feel so embarrassed right now. But, I'm not mad. I promise you. but for now, Let's move to our next book.... WINNING WALKER. Thanks for all you do. But yeah, The Boynextdoor Is over. Like my counter people would say... DONE AND DUSTED.

When my shift ended, I found myself walking toward the corner table where Kael sat, his laptop closed now, a book in his hands. I stopped short when I saw the cover. ‘Knot We Cannot Untie.’ That was the book he was holding. I can't believe that Kael would be reading one of Linda Lively’s books. “You read… this?” I said, the surprise evidently in my voice. Kael looked up, one brow raised. “Why? You think I only read racing magazines and bank statements?” I gave a small laugh. “Chill bro. It’s just… not what I was expecting ”

My living had been turn upside down, and my staffs stood there powerlessly, there faces buried toward the ground. Jax was sitting on the sofa facing the entrance, holding a book I had left on the table earlier before going out. I walked forward and the damages got clearer; vases broken across the floor, and one of my favorite portraits shattered to the ground, with its frame resting by the wall. “The Unwelcome One,” he read from the book’s cover, slowly. “By Martin Crowns.” He looked up, at me, and I walked closer to him. “What’s the deal with you? Why causing all this mess in my abode?” I said slowly and my voice shaking—like I’d poured all my seriousness into that statement.