Novel & Cerita Aphmau Artwork

“You’re the only one I’ve ever really owned. I need the other things I do down there, but they can’t replace the one thing I can’t get in any moral way. I know it’s wrong to keep you, but I can’t help myself. You’re like a priceless piece of art kept in a glass case. I can’t do anything with it but look at it, but I know it’s mine. And sometimes that’s enough.” Faith wondered if that was why Leo had put her in this room. With all the large windows, it was like a glass case. And she was the fragile figurine he kept inside. “But it’s not enough. You don’t just want to look at me.” His gaze swept over her in such a predatory way, it was as if he’d stripped her bare. “Come here.”

Chachi said and we all moved from there. We all kids are in a happy moment. We are gonna get another brother or sister very soon. I said I need a sister but, to be frank even if it's a boy we will pamper him. I don't know why my heart is saying that I am gonna get a sister again. This happened when my both sisters were baby girls and princess time also. I felt an invisible connection with them even before they came to this earth. After that today also I am feeling the same connection and the same vibes. I will be happier if this comes true. I will love her and pamper her more. I want her to be like me, a complete Xerox of me. Aargh, what I am thinking? She or he, whoever it is, is my sibling

It had been over a year since I last saw her, since I disconnected myself from them. “Hi, Isabella. I see you finally got something to do with your life.” She mocked and chuckled. “I should have known only an incompetent someone would sell fakes like this.” She yelled aloud then raised the painting above her head. It was Nimah’a painting. One of the paintings we sold tonight. I knew for sure that the painting wasn't fake because Nimah was a high school student under the alias name of Dandelions. She didn't want her family to know about her artistic side because they wouldn't accept that part of her. They wanted her to be a doctor. Her parents had burned a lot of her paintings. Our auction wa

There’s a figure—barely defined—standing at the edge of something vast. Not falling. Not trapped. Standing. Choosing. The colors feel alive. They move. They breathe. My chest tightens. My grandfather’s voice echoes in my mind. “B.B.’s art doesn’t just speak, Amara… it understands.” And he was right. Because as I stare at it, something inside me shifts. All the pain. The betrayal. The rejection. The weight I’ve been carrying— It quiets. For a moment… it’s gone. And in its place—

Amara's POV April. Third week. Tuesday morning. I was at the warehouse. Not the making school. The warehouse. The new space. The What You Actually Are collection was taking shape. Ruth's commission was done and delivered. Catherine's commission was done and delivered. Three more pieces were in progress. Each one for a specific person. Each one starting with the pocket. Each one built around what the person actually was. The collection was growing the right way. Not quickly.

"His eyes are as beautiful as the blue sea, and his face so captivating to innocence. Within his outer heart you cannot see, but deep in his arms are incisions you can read. A golden phoenix that burns itself again to live, such is the future he envisaged to be in. Stroked across with dark brushes of burnt like a wolf crest, to show that even if he left his identity all would still be evident." And exactly in those rhymes that Hama had read to her only once, she could relive the sight of the picture over and over in her head. The diagram on Arturo's arm was the same. The color of his eyes now lingered in her head too, that it could slightly match the color of hers. And the shock of it ever b

The thought of my paintings connecting with others, evoking emotions and sparking conversations, held an undeniable allure. "But what if they don't appreciate my art or understand the emotions behind it?" I voiced my concern, my insecurities bubbling to the surface. Hailey reached out, placing a reassuring hand on mine. "Amelia, your art speaks volumes. It's a reflection of your soul and experiences. Trust me, people will connect with it in their own unique ways." Her unwavering belief in my artistry was both humbling and empowering. I contemplated the possibility of sharing my paintings with a larger audience, the prospect of touching someone's heart through my art evoking a sense of purpos

Time passed faster as I played, but after about two hours, the games lost their charm. A familiar itch to draw tugged at me. I hadn’t brought any sketchbooks or supplies, but the urge was too strong to ignore. I searched the App Store again, downloading a few art applications. My fingers moved instinctively on the screen as I started a new project, the frustration and tension of the evening melting away. The painting took shape quickly: a white wolf standing proudly on the peak of a snow-covered mountain, its translucent fur glowing under the light of a full moon. Its purple eyes—Amy’s eyes—seemed to shine with life. The entire scene felt ethereal, almost magical.

She chuckled, turning her head at me. “Promise me you won’t sell this, Red,” she laughed. I shook my head, my shoulders shaking as I laughed with her. “I will keep this. You didn’t tell me you have this kind of talent, but you got my lips wrong.” I raised my hand, my index finger pointing at the curve of the lips of her stick man drawing. Aya glanced at me and then nodded. “Paint again, Red,” she murmured. “I can’t. Since Scarlett died, I felt like I could not paint anymore,” I muttered sadly, glancing at the last piece I made, Scarlett and our twins.

However, the word he had earlier heard interrupted his flow of thoughts, and the emotions that were creeping into him. Arthmata, Arthmata, Arthmata. The words resounded in his head in the very manner and pace the woman had said it. It, however, sounded more of a ghostly echo. Who was that woman? And what the hell is Arthmata? The woman looked worried when he met her. Their car had rammed into a truck. However, one thing caught his eye- Her eyes. When he first saw them, the top right quarter of her iris was red, the top left corner green, a the lower right quarter blue and the remaining quarter orange, and it seemed to glow dimly. The pupil was black, but it was blacker that the pupil anyone