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Pentagon Pirate Gang 5 star review (Bruce Miller – Member INDEPENDENT BOOK PUBLISHERS ASSOCIATION

Hi J W,

Thank you again for your interest in our book reviews. We read and reviewed your book, “Pentagon Pirate Gang: The Secret of the Orchard” and liked it very much. Here is a copy of our review: 

Five Stars. “I enjoyed reading “Pentagon Pirate Gang: The Secret of the Orchard” by J W Nelson and found it to be an intriguing story written by an author who, in my opinion, has carefully crafted an intricate plot. It seemed to me this author put a great deal of thought and effort into creating this unique story.

Firstly, this author writes short chapters and I like that since it keeps the story moving with many events, happenings, clues being dropped here and there, and as I read it, I thought that this story is one not only for young readers but also for adults who enjoy a well-crafted story. 

I liked the way this creative author writes in a highly descriptive style. I also enjoyed the descriptive and figurative writing style as in my view, the author artfully uses just the right amount of personification, metaphors, similes, and other rhetorical devices that most fiction readers enjoy. For example, here is a brief excerpt,  

“The width of hedges compelled Aime, Gramon, Oro and Violer to approach it in single file. Above the six feet hedges hung branches from larger trees, that dwarfed the hedge on both sides. These larger trees surrounded the hedges and engulfed them, as though protecting them, making the space left inside shadowy darkness, leaving the morning sunlight having to admit defeat this time.” 

“… Not looking behind her, Aime tried Oro’s suggestion. The gap in front of her began to loosen, opening up widthways and height-wise above her curly, brown locks. Branches shifted, as though swept by the breeze. Leaves spun up and about in a circular motion, dancing around Aime’s feet and ankles, dancing it seemed, to a tune only they could hear and enjoy. 

“‘I think the trees like you, Sis,’ Oro offered a humorous comment.” 

The description of this book gives a brief summary of the story of five children who are attending the “School of Fruit Teaching” (S.O.F.T). These five children are up against the aptly named, spiteful, and vicious headmistress, Mrs. Blackfruit, and her right-hand man the “scrawny, bespectacled, and deputy-head, Mr. Thornby.”  

I thought one of the aspects of this highly engaging story is that the author develops a wide variety of fascinating characters, and I particularly enjoyed the way the author crafted the jewel-like personality and intelligent character of Mrs. Peaches.  

I felt this story displays and strengthens a young reader’s mind with a strong set of values showing bravery, skills, planning, courage, caring for others, dealing with others, teamwork, cleverness, loyalty, and many other fine qualities in an excellent, educative, and adventuresome manner. 

I liked how much this author keeps this highly eventful story moving sometimes at a brisk pace and at other times at a more detailed and focused pace. The varied characters move intriguingly and interact through this artful and adventuresome plot containing numerous twists, turns, mysteries, unexpected events, competitive games, and much more.  

All in all, I enjoyed this delightful and engaging story and found it to be highly exciting and written with a rare quality.  Very well done, and highly recommended!  

It was my pleasure to receive a free copy of this book but that does not in any way affect my opinions in this review of this exceptional book.”

To review this for yourself – go to https://www.amazon.co.uk/Pentagon-Pirate-Gang-Secret-Orchard/dp/1800942745 to obtain your copy and let me know what you think. (Any feedback is welcomed as this is the first book in the series)

This is aimed at ages 9+ (middle Grade into Young Adult) – I can reached on Social Media – @jwnelson3 (twitter) – Jack Nelson (on Facebook) – TikTok under ‘the_poet_who_writes’ & j_w_nelson309 on Instagram thanks JW Nelson

My 12 Days of Christmas…

The Partridge is stuck in a tree

What should we do?        

Sing a song, get down one knee?

I could swear I did see two

—-

Oops, sorry that was the Turtle Doves

Yes, there are two of those

Christmas is something everyone loves

Some Turkey and garlic of cloves?

—-

Non! Say the French.

It has to be the trois hens

Don’t agree, be left on the bench

Watch them eat; only through your lens

—-

No fear though,

The four birds outside are calling

Joined by a man, saying, ho, ho, ho

On a sleigh, in the sky, now falling

—-

You throw him five golden rings

Santa needs presents too

Bet you didn’t know he can really sing

There’s so much more he can do

—-

Work his magic on the geese

All six of them lay eggs

The golden ovals represent signs of peace

At this time; no one should ever need to beg

—-

But the water is cold

And the seven swans keep swimming

Wrap up warm, don’t be bold

And your cupboards will be brimming

—-

The eight maids will provide the milk

There’s plenty to go around

Frankincense is replaced by silk

Your footing is now solid, sound

—-

As you celebrate this time of year

And watch nine ladies dance

The ones you love for and care

Surround us and join in the prance

—-

On tiptoes so you can join in

In the circle with the ten lords leaping

Did they have a few shots of Gin?

No, its okay, its all part of the meeting

—-

Moving and swaying to the piper’s tune

The eleven pipe as best they can

Sometime, later that afternoon

They heard the beat of the drumming man

—-

Twelve to be exact

Drumming, drum, drum

Twelve days is a long time to keep up this act

So I say to you all; just go out and have some fun!

School – It makes you think…

When I think of going to school
I think about not breaking rules
To think of things that are nice and good
I do think about my school: my neighbourhood
—-
To think of all our teachers that help
We should think & behave; so there’s no need to yelp
Thoughts of playing with our friends
Thinking of a time when we can meet again
—-
Thinking today of our school year
Thinking of my parents worries and fears
I can think that soon this time will end
I can think of home school: that email to send
—-
Thinking of what I really long for
Thinking I really want to learn more
Thinking of the laughing and squealing
Thinking; how is everyone feeling?
—-
Thinking of getting back to my school
Thinking of all the things that make it cool
I think I like the reading and numbers best
I think I we will all pass this test
—-
I do think we will find the time
I’m thinking this as I write this rhyme
My thoughts won’t put you on the brink
I just know how School makes me think…
J W Nelson

 

One Page Novels by – J.W. Nelson Volume 1

       train-1635038_1280    The Dream Journey by Train

Samuel Peterson, a frantic, stubborn man, leapt forward in huge strides, as he targeted the 1615 from St. Pancras station. The tannoyed voice ricocheted violently across the air, entering Peterson’s ears presumptuously. A female, high pitched tone droned on about the train he was about to catch, so he hoped. His legs moved swiftly now, like a greyhound chasing that ever moving plastic rabbit.

Sweating profusely, panting heavily, his 13 stone out of shape body, lumbered towards the train, sitting noisily on platform 3.  Entering the cabin, exhaling for moment to draw breath, Peterson scanned the seats from his bespectled view.  Cabin H, first class, yes that’s the one, seat number 13a. Fourteen pair of eyes drilled his. His stature. His demeanour. Decisions about Samuel permeated their minds. A tall, scruffy looking, male with no discernible instant appearance to determine his ancestry, perplexed the other passengers.

A large, untidy beard, covered his facial skin, as did his baseball cap for his head. An expensive pinstriped suit, finished off with white tatty trainers, sounded alarm bells in already prejudiced views. Without completely recoiling, as Peterson shifted towards his seat, eyes averted his as he drew near, as though Peterson was a storm or a hurricane heading in their direction. Then the moment of truth, seat 13a. There with her head down in 13b, sat a lady, about forty years old, auburn hair, glued to her electronic device. She didn’t look up once, as Peterson, fumbled with his bag in the overhead space. He spied her, eying her over, from her head to her feet. Deliberately taking his time to address his bag, compensating for the being intently watched by two men in seat 16a & b. This pragmatic opportunity delivered itself like a gift.

Finally slumping unceremoniously into his seat, Sarah White looked across at Peterson. ‘Hello Sarah. We were wandering when we’d have this meeting. You know what I mean don’t you?’

‘Don’t start Sammie. Drop the bullshit and give it to me straight for once’, Sarah fired back again turning to face the window she sat against.

‘I’d love to give it to you straight, you know that right’, Peterson desperately wanted to smile, yet his professionalism didn’t allow that sort of emotion or frivolity. His voice even, no discernible accent.

Sighing, shaking her head, Sarah White’s beautiful, cosmetically manicured face, bright emotionless eyes, began losing some of  colour, vibrancy and sparkle.

‘You lot better understand something’, she started, her voice low, yet determined. ‘If anything happens to me…’ Peterson and Sarah were interrupted by the attendant serving drinks. Peterson ordered two white tea’s with one sugar.

‘You were threatening something’, Peterson continued Sarah’s last repost, as she anxiously stirred her one sugared tea.

‘It doesn’t’ matter anyway’, Sarah reacted sharply, sipping her tepid beverage, ‘ your organisation will find out soon enough’.

‘Umm I see’, Peterson, muttered to himself, something he rarely did. Then he turned to face Sarah, rather seductively, knowing she despised him and his intentions. ‘My secret love, oh how my heart is saddened, as thou’s last journey on a train, leads to your final resting place’. His words faded as the sun does at around 840pm in the summertime. Sarah’s body relaxed, her eyes closing gently, settling into her seat, she drifted into a never ending cycle of sleep.

Peterson sat upright, nonchalant, calm, normal. Chirping could be heard from his right hand jacket pocket, the Mission Impossible theme tune by Lalo Schifrin. Peterson extracted his phone an answered. ‘Is it done’?, was the question. ‘What do you think? Peterson bounced his rhetorical question at his caller. ‘Of course, she’s sleeping’.

That morning, Samuel Peterson, awoke snuggled up in bed with his wife Sarah, who didn’t know about his murderous intentions to divorce her..

(c) Copyright J W Nelson 2017

Stage 4 ‘nearly there'(for the season) Day 23

Chilling in my room

Waiting for the day

Listening to Christmas sonic booms

As I shade from sun, reminding me of May…

JW Nelson

December 2016