[center][/center][center][/center][center][/center]Interested in the answer.

[center]Following.[/center]

Wow.

Hermix:


Why would you have been delighted?

The last time I read the book was during my secondary school days. I have not been able to get a hold of a copy since then. My search online has yielded no result.
I have been longing to read the book once again.

Hermix:

Hard copy. I got it at a book store.

Ha.... Would have been delighted if it had been the soft-copy.

I am happy to share. The book is special to me. Was it the hard copy or soft copy you got, Hermix?

I want to believe you have read 'element of style' by E. b. white as an aspiring writer, Hermix.

Faults in our stars--John Greene

BOTTLED LEOPARD--CHUKWUEMEKA IKE

BLACK ASS--A. IGONI BARRET

Okay.

Hermix, Take a look at Eze2000 and AudreyTimms.

Hermix:


That's a difficult question to answer. But it just gave me a new idea.

I'll respond to your question by creating a thread. In this thread I'll detail every book I'm currently reading. I'll mention you as soon as I create the thread.

I'll keep updating my responses as I read more books. This will give you good understanding of the kind of books I read.

Thanks for your question.

Okay.

What books do you read, Hermix?

Yeah. There times when you reach a part in your novel that requires a fast pace and showing rather than telling holds the story back and makes it cumbersome.

Sometimes, saying, for instance,
He plunge the knife into his chest.
Might read better than describing the process of him raising the knife and stabbing it.

THERe are times when telling is just right rather showing. Just because you are advise to show rather than don't mean you do it all the time.

This is interesting. Keep it up bro.

Wow

TITLE: JOHN, OH JOHN.

AUTHOR: J. JOHNSON


John was transported out of his body the moment he saw the extremely beautiful lady that glided into the bar. He had the look of one whose senses had been scoped out of his head: eyes that had grown large and round, and was filled with incredulity and hunger, and a slacked jaw that looked as if a little wind might make it swing.

The lady drew his eyes and the eyes of all the other patrons like magnet pulling iron-fillings to itself. Everyone were suspended in the act of doing what they were doing like a time-traveler had stepped into the room and paused time.

John gawked in disbelieve of the beauty that was before his eyes. No one should be this beautiful. And if they are, they should never be aware of it; they should never know how their presence affects men, turning them into...pap.

This lady had the deadly combination of being both beautiful and conscious of her beauty. She walked slowly—as if she had all the time in the world—graceful—like her entire body was a fluid and her joints well oiled—and confidently—like she own this bar and the people in it.

In the silence that blanketed the room, no one paid mind to the waiter that went crashing to the floor with a tray full of glasses of drinks.
No one noticed John fall of his stool from leaning forward. OK, no one, except the lady. Their eyes met and John felt himself catch fire.

Now, let's fast forward, two hours into the future, with John walking with the lady in a secluded park.

John is the happiest man alive. The pleasure of her presence was exquisite. Her touches sent shiver down his spine and raised the hairs on his body. Her hand resting in the crook of his arm made his body alternate between hot and cold. He could not think of any other thing than what he could say to make her laugh once more, what he could do to keep her eyes fixed on him. Those lovely eyes that blazed like the flames of an evening fire and a threatened to swallow him like an ocean. Now he knew one could drown in someone's eyes.

As if that was not enough, now she looking him straight in the eyes, her hands on his shoulder. Her head was tilted backward, her eyes closing and her lips slightly parted. John's heart was a volcanic mountain; it was pumping his body full with lava. If this was the last thing he did on this earth, he would die with a smile on his face, a fulfilled man. John closed his eyes and bent forward, anticipating the fireworks that were to go off in his head. John bent and bent, with his mouth set like one that is drinking a drink with a straw. He bent and stumbled forward almost tripping. He opened his eyes, confused, the ecstasy of the moment where visibly draining out of his eyes and features. He didn't see the lady he was about to kiss. Had I been dreaming all this while, John wondered. He looked behind him and saw that this was no dream but...

A nightmare.

An old lady stood behind him in colourless rags (that is, you cant say what colour it once was or what colour it now is) that hung from her stick-thin and bony figure. Her face was heavily wrinkled and her head bald but for a few patch of grey coarse hair. She was smiled, exposing three yellow teeth and a knife appeared in her hand.

John pissed on himself.

.

johnsonjerry144@gmail.com. Send all you can send; don't limit yourself. Thanks.

P.S. Do you have non-fiction books too. Like bird by bird?

Bisi froze in fear at the silhouette of a man standing in the door way.