Artist's Way Book Novels & Stories

"Think carefully; going to such places will be very dangerous. I used to work for the Red Leaves, so I know they have a lot of ways to catch you." Since Clement and Finn objected, Uri remained silent and did not say anything more. But his mind still burned the desire to read the book protected in the museum. He had a hunch that the secret in the book was just what he needed. Clement and Anthea stayed at the bungalow until midnight then returned to the city. That night, Uri couldn't sleep; he thought about the second part of the book about the creator god. He had been to that museum, but he had never noticed the book with the golden pages displayed on important dates.

“You guys are going to map your internal landscapes, the ebb and flow of your emotions, your dreams, and your fears, onto these blank canvases.” My eyes dart to Felix and Xenia, and they both mirror my reaction: like dears in the headlight. Is this for real? How is this even remotely related to the Cadet Program? “Trust that Holden has chosen a capable teacher. Just let go. Trust the process,” Jaime encourages me. That’s not too hard to do. The energy in the room is contagious, and soon we’re all rummaging through paint pots, each one of us claiming a canvas and getting ready to just let loose.

And he was addicted to his little girl’s tight pussy. This was only the first story in the book of our sins. There were ninety-nine more ways to damn ourselves still waiting. And I could not wait to fall even deeper.

"Close your eyes." I did. "Now, feel your power. Don't use it. Just feel it. Where does it live inside you?" I reached inward, searching. It was there, a burning presence in my chest. Like a second heartbeat made of fire. "I feel it." "Good. Now, instead of letting it explode outward, I want you to shape it. Imagine it as clay. Mold it. Control it." "How?" "By breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth. With each breath, you pull the power into shape. With each exhale, you release only what you intend to release."

“Teacher and student my foot…” Duncan smirked. “I guess Min-a does have a type.” He walked away from the half-done painting to the others on the walls. Some were unhinging, reminding Duncan that he would never fully understand the kid's twisted mind. The most captivating was a dashing play of Red and black. If anyone could portray angst, using nothing but color palettes to depict struggle and elegance, it was Min-a. That was his specialty. He didn't need to paint human beings. As Duncan remembered him saying; “Feeling is not a human quality, feeling is an energy that can be shown through any medium, from sound to silence.”

Elena’s world began to shrink after her first session with Evan Stone. The boundaries between day and night blurred, her time dictated by his commands and her own obsessive drive to create. She found herself spending hours in her studio, painting with a rawness and intensity that both thrilled and terrified her. Her art transformed into something visceral, each stroke of the brush echoing the push and pull she felt within herself—between desire and fear, submission and defiance.

As if he could read me like an open book, Bryan asked, his eyes darkened and his lips cracked with a smirk. He knew how much I wanted him. How much I craved for his cock ever since I felt them between my ass a few hours ago during the ride to the island. I nodded frantically…desperately. I wished he could just tear my clothes and thrust into me like a primal animal. I wanted my first time to be rough, memorable even. “Use your words, Melissa.” The way my name slipped past his lips, it almost made me melt in his arms. How could my Mom treat such a handsome man like a pest?

She did. The river curved around several obstacles. Rocks. Trees. Collapsed ground. The water adapted. Adjusted. Continued. The artist smiled. "People waste their lives trying to control rivers." Jessica stared at the painting. Unsure where this was going. "You can't control them." A pause. "You can only decide whether you're swimming with the current or against it." The conversation should have felt comforting. Instead it irritated her. Because lately every piece of wisdom sounded like surrender. Acceptance. Patience.

Marga POV I tied my hair into pony tail since the heat of the sun is excruciating. I feel like all my energy left out from my body. Gezz! Just as I about to turn to the next building holding a map of the entire school since you know I am new. I need to familiarize the place I asked map from the office. Good thing they have it's very helpful to me. They offer someone to tour me inside the school but I told them that it's more fun touring on your own. I feel like Dora The Explorer. Hahahah... 😂😂😂

It's just strange since we really aren't anything to each other. I won't lie and say, I'm not starting to have feelings, but he's my boss and I can't tell him how I feel. I need to get these feelings out before I lose what little control I have. I fill my paint tray and turn on my music. I'm painting and dancing as I listen to 'Cooler Than Me.' By Mike Posner. I wiggle my hips, as my brush glides around the canvas. This where I love to be. In front of my easel, listening to tunes and zoning out. Letting the paint come together the way it wants.