Yellowface Review Novels & Stories

he praised her. She won't know what that means, it's a compliment that scares her. Moreover, he was someone she didn't know. "Why is he suddenly talking about my nails?" the woman's mind was not calm. Suddenly she looked at her nails which were polished pink with glittering beads that adorned them. Her nails do look beautiful. Shouldn't she be happy to hear that compliment? But again... is that a compliment? Even though fear began to fill her heart. She tried to answer politely. Just wanted to end the conversation that felt so dreadful to her.

Delphine groaned. “Doesn’t yellow mean happy?” Hakeem asked. Delphine let out a small whine. “In any other situation, yes. If Lilac’s happy, it’s never for the right reasons. Plus, it’s not a pretty yellow and it’s speckled with red. Both are bright, so bright that it’s hurting my eyes to look at it.” Hakeem made a sound of interest low in his throat. “And that’s a bad thing?”

He took a good look at her, watching her heavy black hair move with the wind “What do you want?” “Your help.” He giggled “To hell with you.” “I know about Vivian” Brows raised, he smirked “Took you so long, I wonder why. So what is this, blackmail?” “No, just a trade. I think I've proved to you long enough that I can keep your secret, I just want something in return.” “You're a white wolf, you don't have a say at Blue Villa. You will only be setting yourself up.” She nodded “If that's what you think, I think you better kill me whenever you have another chance to.” She began walking away.

She frowned, and put her head down on the table, and closed her eyes for a moment. Dimitri and Pete walked through the door, Pete went to work on the soup, Ivan whispered to Dimitri about her arms. He looked over but said nothing. Pete cleared this throat, and Jade looked up. Her eyes a pale gray, almost white startled him he dropped the bowl of soup shattering the bowl when it hit the ground. He broke his stare, and grabbed a cloth, “My apologies you're eyes aren't as gray as they used to be. It’s almost a pale white,” he whispered.

" Amid the chaos, Don was thrown out of the company in a disgraceful state. Camden and Nevaeh attempted to meet with me several times after that, but they were never able to see me. Even so, I knew they wouldn't give up so easily. As expected, one evening while returning from a contract negotiation, a large truck suddenly swerved toward me. Unable to dodge in time, I blacked out. The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was Camden's cold, venomous glare. … When I regained consciousness, I found myself bound in an abandoned warehouse. Nevaeh no longer looked like the pampered rich girl she once pretended to be. Her makeup was smeared and hastily applied, and she was wearing cheap clot

he continues to jerk his head frantically. “I can bet with my life that he was the one. He had brown hair and sharp hazel eyes. His chin is chiseled and he is handsome but his face looks pale and so does his skin”. I describe . The countenance of doubt vanishes and he takes a new look of surprise.

“Why is it glowing already, I don’t see anything?” Aziz’s expression hardened. His blade hissed free of its sheath. “Because they’re already here. Get into position.” The sound came before the sight—low mumbling, a chorus of voices too twisted to form words. Then they emerged. Figures swaying, mumbling, their bodies dry and rattling. I froze. They were pale with a sickly bluish tint, skin stretched thin over dry bones. Their claws clicked against the stone floor as they moved. Hair, long and filthy, braided so tight it made their faces even more horrifying.

I left Riley behind, crying after me, because I could hear Andy whisper in my ear. “Keep walking, Daddy. Don’t look back.” After Riley and Leo were both sentenced to prison, a cosmetic surgery specialist named Suzanne Jones contacted me. “Mr. Quince, I can perform reconstructive surgery for you and restore your original appearance.” At first, I had given up. I thought I would live the rest of my life with this face. However, Suzanne’s words made me decide to try once more. She said, “I think your son and parents would be very happy to see you restored to your old look.”

It's not black, but a cream white that boosts his complexion. I am so fucked.

Something worse. He stands roughly two inches taller than me. His black hair is combed back. Slick with gel. His color scheme is black and white. Like a panda. But nothing like said animal. He walks with vigor and a domineering prowess. But what kicks everything into limbo is his face. It sharp. Too sharp. It seems to be made of porcelain. Almost as white as my skin. But something else. Like it's been bleached. Bleached with so many chemicals it has no hope of returning to any healthy color. His eyes are grey. Almost like storm clouds. No. Nothing like storm clouds. I know that color too well. It can only be described in my words as the color of dead elephant skin.