Romans & histoires 30 Day Art Challenges

Would he have been able to? Day thirty of thirty. Zero to go.

The intense pain has me biting hard on my tongue to stifle the groans threatening to spill over my lips. Damn it. It's a lot worse than the last. I roll on my back, wrapping my arms around my stomach. Hah....it hurts. It hurts too much. Lying on the bare snow, the cold drilled into my bones, numbing some part of the pain. Hah—exactly how long will I have to bear this? Will I even be able to last the thirty days like this?

I deleted his number from my phone, a symbolic gesture that did nothing to erase the memory of his touch, his taste, the sounds he made when I raked my nails down his stomach. I worked through the night, hands cramping, eyes burning. By morning, I had completed seven new pieces. I photographed them against my skin, making sure the lighting highlighted the details that would justify the prices I needed to charge. The caption I wrote for the first I*******m post was simple: When they try to break you, make art from the pieces. I hit "share". * * *

The moment that Jane had been waiting for a long time arrived, that day was truly a historic day that Jane had been waiting for a long time. Today, Thursday, September 12, 2030, it was a very bright day like the enthusiasm of the trainers who were queuing right in the front lobby of the Main Office Art Museum Y Fam Group, Nikhil City. They all come with the same goal to compete with each other to be the best artist by bringing the best work. At exactly 9 am at that time, more than 100 participants transferred to an art hall to collect their works and exchange them with the participants' name tags.

Bernard continued, "I believe you all already know the theme you'll be working with. An image of each theme will be displayed on the screen to make it easier for each group." I breathed a sigh of relief as the image of our Winter Wonderland theme appeared on the screen. Thank goodness for that! It would give us a clearer idea of what to create. "Remember you have just two hours to get done with it." Bernard warned, " Anyone or any group who exceeds the timeframe will be disqualified. Good luck and your time starts in 3…2…1… Go!" The screen above us showed the image of each theme. Our theme image was the first to appear, and I couldn't help but gasp in wonder.

"In the spirit of true creative competition, we will break the tie with a final test as said earlier to determine who will stay or leave. Cassia and Junie will face a sudden design challenge...a test of raw skill, speed, and creativity. You’ll have 30 minutes to design a conceptual sketch of a project inspired by a single word we provide. No templates, no technology. Pure, unfiltered creativity." Junie let out a small scoff, adjusting the buttons of her shirt, then smiled as if she had already won the challenge. "Sounds fair enough. What’s the word?" she asked, growing impatient. The judge smiled, a hint of challenge in his eyes. "The word is... 'connection,'" he said. "Connection? Is that a

I chuckled wryly, “This is the big leagues, Ana. No one is looking at your pretty face or cares about how beautiful you are. It's either you got it or you don't.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously and a twitch started forming on her lips. She seemed ready to explode but that wasn't my problem. I stared intensely at her and continued, “C, just so you're aware, if this deal doesn't go through, that 30 days might turn to 60 days. And so, if I were you, I'd do whatever it takes to close it as soon as possible.” Ana argued, her eyes spitting fire. “Trust me, I'd want nothing more than to go back to my normal life. I don't care that you have all the money in the world. If you hadn't tricked me into th

Droplets of water sprinkled onto my shirt like confetti, warning me to protect the large paint-splashed canvas in my grip from her hose. The Art Club had demanded 'a portrait of the hottest celebrity you know, with a twist', and today was the deadline of submitting Benedict Cumberbatch's rakishly hot centaur doppelgänger. The actual deadline was weeks ago and I wasn't planning on doing the work, but considering that the Principal had lost her shit at how much I was slacking and threatened to kick me out if I didn't do it, it wasn't much of a bargain.

; she was "Avery-the-Law." "Dominic, the '30-Day-Cycle' is 'Insolvent', Avery whispered, her voice a "High-Frequency-Clear" that "Sutured" the "Void" into a "Living-Gale." "To 'Return' is to 'Accept' the 'Narrative-Constraint.' To 'Stay' is to 'Write' the 'Ending' of the 'Concept of the Ending.' We aren't 'People' anymore. We’re the 'Gravity' that holds the 'Spring' together."

There were thirteen of us now. Thirteen where there had once been fifteen. The fourth challenge had been announced just moments ago, its rules simple in wording but deceptive in execution: Find and gather resources scattered across the field within the hour. Return to the manor. Craft something useful, beautiful, or innovative. You will be judged on creativity, execution, and presentation. The least impressive creation will be eliminated. No weapons. No direct combat. Just raw ingenuity. I flexed my fingers, willing warmth back into them. The others stood in loose clusters on the manicured lawn, some murmuring to one another, others silent, already calculating.