Aphmau Artwork Novels & Stories

They clapped at us. I promise you joy all your life Amira. Not anything else. The black canvas in you, that is covered in blood and in darkness, will be colorful from now on. I, Elexier will paint it sweetly with colors, bright ones. We have gone through so many things. And I will save and protect you every time that happens again. If I had to choose between breathing and loving you, I would use my last breath to say, I love you.

Amani replied with a smile. As Amani stepped into her art room, her eyes immediately gravitated towards the neatly arranged new paint supplies, beckoning her to unleash her creative energy. She was determined to paint something special for herself this time. Within her heart, the memories of her beloved father and mother held a sacred place, and she longed for something tangible to forever cherish their legacy.

Like it was tucking me in, not trying to eat me whole. “Over there’s the best street art in the city,” he said, nodding at a brick wall alive with color. I followed his gaze, then paused, smiling. It was a massive mural of a woman — dark skin, big eyes, Afro blooming like a halo. Around her head were broken clocks, blooming roses, and a phrase written in gold script: Time doesn’t heal. Time gives you space to. I took a picture before I even realized my phone was out.

But then again, she was that kind of step mother who just wanted me out of my father’s life, and she worked for that to happen. Arturo looked at me, and I slowly shook my head, silently asking him to close the topic. The elders were here, and this was the last thing that we both needed. He nodded in response as he turned his attention to Jada, one of the She-wolf elders who was also invited. She smiled at me as she took a bite off the small cinnabon. “You actually made all these?” Jada asked, her voice softening as she asked and I nodded. Arturo smiled, seeming proud, making my chest ache at the fact that I knew that this might have been an act, this whole morning could have actually been.

" I paint vigorously as the song plays. I'm desperately trying to get the image out of my mind onto the canvas. My brush travels across his chiseled jawline. My colors hold his textured blonde color in a lock of hair that hung in his face while the rest was pulled back. My shadows play with the rippled muscles under his shirt. I let the music inspire me as I paint the pale blue eyes staring at me. His tanned skin looks almost like I could reach in and feel it. The image in my mind comes alive in the painting. My painting. "Bastian." I whisper as I add tiny dances of light to his face. "Oh, that's lovely." I whip around and my mom is standing. I huff out a breath. "You scared me." She giggles

He drafted a message: “I never meant to make it harder. I just wanted to see what healing looked like on you.” But before he could send it, another headline appeared: “Amara Reacts to Liam’s Gallery Appearance with Mysterious New Piece: ‘The Betrayal of Silence.’” And for a moment, he thought he’d lost her for good. That evening, Amara unveiled the painting unfinished, raw, born of panic and emotion. It was a single figure in grayscale, surrounded by hands reaching out, grabbing, pulling. At the center, a mouth covered by a red brushstroke. The critics called it “a rebellion against misinterpretation.”

He instructs. Back To The Present Amber’s pov: Time flies by as I work on my art, the only thing keeping me sane right now. Harlow, surprisingly, watches me paint and although it adds to the discomfort of the hot weather, I deal with it. As the brush strokes the canvas, I access the image of Alessandro’s painting that I stored in my memory.

I told them that no one was allowed to leave the house until we found Amara and the person who kidnapped her. I trotted back to my office still thinking of what to say to Gio then I decided that I would be plain with him. He was my son so he could do anything to me. I opened the door and saw him staring calmly at the new painting I bought recently. The painting was about a woman naked but in chains, she looked wild but her eyes showed how scared she was of bondage . It was one of the best piece of art the artist had, and he had advertised it during the launching of his latest artwork so I bought it.

Alpha Fiama Jay gaped at me without blinking his eyes for a while. He might be looking for words. I was determined to do this today. I knew it would affect him more than me. But I had no option left to secure his life. "Fiama! I guess you're forgetting that we are the students of management, not literature, nor any of us interested in supernatural novels", he giggled. His words were enough to let me know that he didn't believe in our world, nor he was aware of anything.

But they pushed through anyway. I moved to the empty board and sat in front of it. Unbuttoned the first three buttons of my shirt. My breathing shook slightly as I picked up the brush. I dragged the paint across the canvas, not even thinking, just bleeding whatever was left of me. Minutes passed. When I finally opened my eyes, the new painting stared back at me. Her again. Amara. The first day I saw her. Hoodie on. Face soft. Eyes bright…bright enough I thought they would bring peace into my life.