Angel Dust Artwork Novels & Stories

The love in their eyes made me feel that this trip through the human world had been more than worth it. I slowly closed my eyes. Right before they shut completely, I had a strange feeling and turned my head toward the narrow glass window in the door. Through it, I saw a handsome face with red eyes and trembling lips. It was Cole. My vision, my sense of touch, and my sense of smell began to fade as I waited for death to take me. Seconds before I lost my hearing too, I heard people shouting my name from all around. In the midst of all the noise, I caught one voice that wasn't loud at all. It should've been clear and cool, but right then it was hoarse. Its owner called out, "Izzy."

Paintings of our journey hung all around us watching like silent witnesses. Damien undressed me with patient hands. “You are my masterpiece, Elena. I will worship every part of you.” He tied my wrists lightly with soft paint-stained ribbons from my supplies and secured them above my head to an easel. The restraint felt exciting but loving at the same time. He stepped back to admire me then removed his own clothes. His strong body looked beautiful among the art.

He is a psychopath at 14. His gaze then scanned her hips and thighs, they bore kisses of his hand marks, and he smirked. She was his, his painting. The artwork is proof of his ownership. Smiling contentment, Azazel grabbed the blanket covering her and his body, hiding his face in her boobs, and passed into a blissful siesta. …….

It was a fantastic work of embroidery that depicted the hilly landscape of Glanchester. It was a work of art which sheer beauty seemed to exceed even that of reality where it weaved the mountainous landscape into an abstract form of art. It was comparably more valuable than the other two prizes. Sylvia was immediately enchanted by the wonderful work of art and could not pluck her eyes off of it. "Do you like it?” Odell’s voice heavy with bass sounded in her ear.

Azrael said while sliding the painting on her backpack. The painting was beautiful and made by a very artistic hand. It was a female angel, it wears a black hooded dress, a flaming sword hang at its hips. It was her. Ouriel stood in front of Azrael while propping his hands on his waist. Azrael looked up at him, “Now, you wanna take me to Mr. Chase?” she said impatiently with a sound of sarcasm. Ouriel shrugged and started walking, Azrael followed him. They went to a five-story apartment, probably where Carter lives. While climbing up the stairs, Azrael decided to quizzed Ouriel, “You wanna tell me why did you look for him?”

Seems like Alisha shows him the photos when he goes to sleep. Sitting on the couch, He holds the album. He doesn't want to investigate but he is curious to see Arthur's baby photo. Somehow he can't help but feel the closeness with Arthur.. He flips every page, sometimes he laughs out softly watching Arthur's cute baby moments. But He slightly narrows his eyebrows, finding Alisha with her long hair and the painting behind her. Why does she have this painting? Alissa had thrown it away!? He thinks frowning so hard. The painting " River of Agony" was thrown out. He tried his best to find it but he was informed that the painting was burnt. How come Alisha has it?

The return address was the university art department. “It’s for you,” Arthur said, carrying it in from the porch with a curious expression. I opened it carefully. Inside, nestled in protective foam, was one of Elena’s smaller paintings. It was a study of a single, windswept cypress tree, its form both tortured and beautiful against a turbulent sky. Tucked into the frame was a note from the department head. Dear Mrs. Gonzalez,

"I'd like you to meet Elise." Elise stepped forward with a smile that was both warm and calculating. "I've heard so much about you," she said, extending a perfectly manicured hand. "I hope we can be friends. I'd love to see more of your sketches—Daniel mentioned you're quite the artist." The comment landed like a small shock. Daniel had noticed her sketching. Had he mentioned it to his pregnant mistress as if it were worthy of discussion? "How lovely to meet you," Angela replied, her voice steady despite the earthquake happening inside her chest. "I hope you'll be comfortable here."

"Goodnight Asami. Go to bed." If I was to guess her reaction, I'd say she's smiling. "Well, if you insist, I shall." The call ended. I stood up and walked to the window. In the portrait by the window is where the flash drive is, according to S. My fine red curtains blew toward me as a result of the breeze. Just a bit far from my window but on the same wall is a weird, large canvas portrait painted in Van Gogh's artstyle. It's of a weeping woman with a dead baby in her hand. The naked baby is bleeding as a knife is stuck in it's chest and both the woman and he baby are in the belly of a fierce looking cobra.

Prompted by this, I walked over to the mirror and tried a few poses myself. Honestly, my figure was pretty good. The curves were all in the right places. I slipped on a shirt, flaunted my abs, and then pulled on a pair of black stockings. Snapping a photo from a low angle, I was amazed by how stunning it looked. Pairing it with some catchy music, I promptly uploaded it online. Almost immediately after posting, Rachel commented, 'Wow!' Soon, my phone started buzzing non-stop with notifications. Clearly, this type of content was popular.