Typing Tomorrow: English Novels for ESL Students

By Pantelis Giamouridis

In the town of Aylesford, Samuel Brook discovers a vintage typewriter with a unique ability: it brings stories to life. As he writes, the town undergoes positive transformations. However, the power to shape destiny comes with its own dilemmas. Delving into the typewriter's past, Samuel learns of its connection to a scientist who once tried to manipulate time. With the help of two bright detectives, Elisa and Harrison, Samuel confronts the consequences of altering fate.

"Typing Tomorrow" is a tale of magic, ethics, and the unforeseen impact of our choices.

 

The book is an excellent resource for ESL students, packed with vocabulary exercises and questions to enhance language skills and critical thinking.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pantelis Giamouridis
• Release date: Sep 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223551317

Pantelis Giamouridis

Pantelis Giamouridis is a dedicated and passionate writer who is currently pursuing a PhD in political theory and philosophy. In addition to their academic pursuits, he is also an experienced English teacher. His love for writing extends beyond his profession, as he has a passion for creating engaging and thought-provoking novels, short stories, and educational material. 

Book preview

Chapter 1: The Curious Find

Rain drummed a steady beat on the rooftop, the rhythmic sound creating a calming ambiance. From my window, I took in the scene of my town, Aylesford. The scent of rain-soaked pavement mixed with the fresh smell that always follows a good downpour, casting a serene atmosphere over the streets.

My name's Samuel. I used to be a storyteller, full of tales and adventures. Now, it felt like I was stuck in a world where my stories had gone mute. My house, a charming older place with floors that told tales of their own with every creak and vast windows that framed the world, was packed with books. Some I'd devoured, others were born from my imagination. But recently, that creative fire seemed snuffed out.

My study was a gallery of past achievements. The rich scent of paper, rows of books on deep wooden shelves, and shiny awards under muted lighting told tales of my heyday. I brushed my fingers over the book spines, each title taking me back: Whispers in the Night, my breakout hit; Tales from Aylesford, which snagged a notable literature award; and my personal favorite, Lost in Time, which bagged a top writing accolade. These books were a bridge to days when writing felt effortless, when stories just came alive.

Yet, tonight was just another in a series where the blank page taunted me. The cursor on my laptop blinked, almost teasingly, mirroring my ongoing writer's slump. It felt like being in a barren desert, once an oasis of creativity.

I leaned back, eyes falling on an old photo on my desk. A younger me, beaming, holding my debut novel. The happiness there felt worlds apart from the exhaustion I now felt.

Back in the day, my tales used to wind through the streets of small towns, with rich dialogues and adventures that gripped readers. Fans often wrote about how they felt like they were right there with my characters, living those moments.

But that magic? It seemed to fade. I felt unanchored, the beacon of new ideas eluding me. I craved that rush, that buzz from a story waiting to burst forth.

Closing my laptop, memories of a mentor's advice echoed: Every writer hits a wall, Sammy. It's the storm inside that creates stories. Feel it, grapple with it, and let it lead you.

I decided to stroll around Aylesford’s town centre. The town had a unique energy - side streets covered with vibrant graffiti, cafes tempting passersby with their mouthwatering scents, youngsters skateboarding past, and seniors exchanging stories on park benches. Among all this, an antique store window caught my attention. Right in the middle, like a diamond in the rough, sat a sleek vintage typewriter.

Intrigued, I stepped into the store, greeted by the tinkling chime of a bell overhead. The room felt like stepping back in time. The scent of age-old tales and books hung heavy, and each relic seemed to share snippets of its past, the soft groans of the wooden floor narrating stories of their own.

You've got sharp eyes, came a gritty voice. Turning, I met the gaze of an old man, the store's keeper, sizing me up. That piece? It's been around.

It's captivating, I remarked, feeling the typewriter's cool keys under my fingers.

He scratched his thinning beard, hesitating. It's no ordinary machine, he began, People talk. Some say it's magical, some say it's bad news.

A smirk tugged at my lips. Sounds like a plot from one of my novels.

He squinted, a hint of recognition flashing. Aren't you... Samuel Brook, the writer?

I grinned, nodding. Caught me.

He leaned in, a sly smile playing on his lips, Perhaps this typewriter is what you need, a sprinkle of enigma.

Chuckling, I asked, How much?

He pondered, seemingly conflicted. I've had offers. But it feels right for you. He quoted a price, much less than what I anticipated.

As I paid, I mentioned, Your tales about this machine intrigued me. Maybe it'll help me rediscover my creative spark.

His smile faded slightly. Be mindful of what you seek, Samuel.

Exiting the store, typewriter in tow, I noticed the rain had ceased, replaced by a striking rainbow. Was this a hint of fresh starts, or an