Angel Dust Artwork Novels & Stories

Loved the life we'd built together despite the odds. We arrived at my studio around ten. Julian had been here so many times now that it felt as much his space as mine. His jacket hung on the coat rack. His favorite bottled water was in the mini-fridge. A framed photo of us from a gallery opening sat on my desk. He removed his shirt and I took a moment to appreciate the nearly completed artwork on his back. The phoenix rising from flames, wings spread wide, body arched in triumph. The geometric patterns woven through the feathers, the sacred geometry creating depth and meaning. The falling figures at the base transforming from human to abstract shapes.

took the entire European art world by storm. The artist's name was just one word – Elara. Her paintings packed a powerful punch. Whether it was the thorny roses growing from a dark abyss, sunlight breaking through ruins, or her most acclaimed piece, "The Angel." A bleeding angel was stitching its own wounds. Critics praised her as a "genius who paints with her soul." The moment she accepted the award, tears welled in Elara's eyes. After all the twists and turns, what belonged to her had finally returned to her.

When Arin come on the earth it was middle of night.The sky's are full of star's. Arin landed on a garden and looked a light coming from a window of palace. He go there and looked isla was sleeping and her face shining like a moon.Her hair dark like cloud. Her lips like rose petals.Her eyebrows like the bow. Arin just feel everything in the world are stopping and He began to look into isla in amazement like it's is the biggest beautiful creation of God. Suddenly Isla woke up and seeing around cause she felt someone is here. But she couldn't see anyone.

I stood in front of the wall that displayed her artwork and stared at the remaining painting carefully. “Do you have a picture of her sold artwork, I want to see them because I see if I would like some and re order for them. “ Alright , come with me” we followed the woman and she led us into her office, she told us to sit then she brought out the pictures the gallery had taken when they still have her painting. I stare at each picture.They were simply breathtaking. The painting that caught my attention was the one of the child sitting in a field of flowers as three angels looked down upon her from the sky. I couldn’t help but think of all she’s been through and what she is stil going throug

Johnny Sly beamed at her before she left the terrace. “Please, follow me, miss…” the young woman escorted her to the room. They walked inside the house, highly doomed ceiling with paintings of angels fighting with some devils, Elena squinted her eyebrows as she also saw a devil was making love with an angel. ‘The concept of balance in human’s life?’ her thought was exploring the paintings. She also saw the paintings about a dragon, a big snake and a tiger… She inhaled. ‘A philosophical value of eastern…’ What she saw making her feel curious about who Johnny Sly was in a real life.

Lucas Time always dragged whenever I waited for something. Unable to keep a lid on my excitement, I submerged myself balls-deep into an art project — my mating gift to Isobelle. The sun’s rays cast a glittery streak of dust motes through my shed window, the light kissing the canvas with a rich golden hue. My keen eyes flicked back and forth as I applied the finishing touches to my muse — the blonde-haired angel who was sitting on the porch under the shade of the wooden canopy. She buried her nose deep into one of her science books, her brow scrunched with extreme concentration, her eyes descending each page with a tenacious thirst for knowledge. It was the sexiest sight I had ever seen in my

Cameron moaned, his touch flooding Aislen with the conflicting pain/pleasure, and the heavy, mind melting bliss he experienced in the utter surrender and trust of his body into Talen’s skilled hands. Aislen looked up at Rhett over her, and Heath, his head thrown back as he ground himself into Rhett. She had to draw this, she thought. Was there a point, however, when art crossed into pornography? And did that matter at all when she knew for sure that her regular readers would be drooling on their tablet devices. She’d draw her men, she decided, in all their f-kery, and show them after it was done, so they could get off on knowing that their images were getting hundreds of readers off.

AUDREY The painting displayed in the living room was already glorious, but obviously, Gabriel kept the finest ones in one place in this room. He took my hand and drew me to the wall at the left, and presented me with the enormous painting of an angel. And it wasn’t any regular painting of an angel with wings. Its body was male with the face of a female, and it was nude but with no genitals. But that wasn’t what made the artwork brilliant. The angel’s wings had two shades of black and white and spread up above.

What was left was quiet. And oh God, intense. “Misha…” I whispered, suddenly shy, arms instinctively moving to cover myself. But he reached out, gently catching my wrists before I could. “Don’t,” he said softly. His eyes roamed my body like I was something sacred this time. “You’re…” “What?” I whispered, suddenly breathless for an entirely different reason. “You’re art,” he murmured. “You’re a thousand brushstrokes of chaos and softness and fire. And I swear to God, Angel, if I believed in anything, it’d be you.”