Artistic Outcast Novels & Stories

He simply said his goodbyes to his friends and led her straight to the amusement park. "Isn't it a little inappropriate to leave such a big event for entertainment's sake?" Melanie asked, concerned. "When people work so hard to earn money, power, and fame, isn't it so they can live more freely, with more choices? If I can't even leave work when I'm not happy because I'm worried about what others think, then what was all that hard work for?" Jamie leaned against the railing, the sunlight casting a golden glow on his face and the wind tousling his hair. At that moment, Melanie suddenly realized that he truly was the rebellious, genius actor that the world spoke of.

I turned. Waiting near the shadows was Clara, my assistant at the gallery. Only she knew the truth that while the world saw me as the silent daughter of a ruthless billionaire, the socialite that was lucky enough to be engaged to Damien Davenport. I had carved out something of my own. A hidden art gallery tucked in the city, curated in my name alone. Of course not my real name. The owner of the gallery went by Brianna Kravitz. A talented artist who sold most of her pieces in Paris before buying a gallery here in New York and selling not only her own artwork but many unknown under appreciated artists. Soon many well known and big named artists started wanting their art pieces in the gallery t

The confident, untouchable star athlete who had charmed the entire campus… powerless against the fortress she had built around herself. Back in her room that night, Nora set up a new canvas. This painting would not be delicate or forgiving. This painting would not be beauty for the sake of admiration. It would be fire, anger, pain, and defiance poured into color and shape. Crimson streaks of rage bled across the canvas. Black swirls of hurt twisted into sharp shapes. Gold highlights burned like hope she refused to allow herself to feel.

Jaxon’s POV The sky outside the grimy window of my self-imposed exile was a bruised canvas of gray and heavy clouds, mirroring the turbulent storm raging within the confines of my own soul. It offered a stark, bleak contrast to the incandescent warmth that had briefly, dangerously, cocooned Amara and me just hours before.

he said, "I would like to make you a formal offer on behalf of Ars Gallery. We hope to sign you as our exclusive artist and host your first solo exhibition in Parelle next spring. These sketches have moved me deeply. They are full of soul and quiet mystique. This is exactly the kind of art we have been searching for." It all came so suddenly, yet it felt completely logical. I looked at Ian, his face only showing relief and pride. Sunlight poured through the window, falling across my sketchbook and across my face. In my last life, Bonnie stole my paintings and destroyed my future. In this life, I disposed of the thief with my own hands and broke every chain that held me. I no longer needed a

My perfect world where nothing but my art exists. Cindy discovered my artistic talents early on and tried to send me to classes. They didn't last, because instructors did not accept my unconventional style. I painted scenes of blood and death. Men, women, and children were the victims in my youthful sociopathic mind. I drew horrible scenes of destruction-the bloodier and gorier the better. Putting a tattoo machine in my hand changed me. The combination of blood and ink became my savior and ended the self-destructive course I traveled. It may be creepy, but forever changing human skin is what took me from a quiet, homicidal kid to a kid with a passion other than causing permanent injury. I'll

Lyla collapsed, her face ashen. "You dared deceive me!" Lukas was consumed by rage. He kicked her aside. "You made me believe I would have a pureblood heir!" "Lukas, please..." Lyla crawled toward him, trying to grab his leg. "I love you... I just wanted a child..." "Love?" Lukas shoved her away in disgust. "What would a filthy creature like you know of love?" He turned to the crowd and announced in a voice of cold fury: "From this moment on, this... thing... is no longer my mate! She is an outcast! A rogue! I'm sending her to the orc mines to live out the rest of her filthy existence!"

He laughed, the sound making my insides feel a tad weird but in a way it felt nice. "I was clearly busy at the time," I began, my hand indicating my room and the apartment before us. "So there was no time to ask questions on whether anyone resided here, spirit wise that is." I gave a small grin. "Plus I didn't know what to say." "Based upon my observation you," Jem said with a light chuckle. "Cora," he said, brushing his fingers across my cheek. His touch was cool and still semi-solid. "Didn't you have any loyal friends to rely on growing up?" I shook my head to tell him no because in some way I always remained the outcast of anyone that I befriended. A loner who believed that trusting other

I ask, my servant-bot slowly hovering at the base of my staircases. “Unstoppable had been beaten,” my servant-bot starts,” The OutCasts had defeated him and now, he is begin held in a maximum-security prison cell at IronWall Prison.” “I guess Unstoppable wasn’t so unstoppable after all,” I say, my eyes still focus on the hundreds and hundreds of screens in front of me. As I keep on watching, I see so many people walking around, doing whatever it is want. I see them speeding through the streets. I see them throw their trash everywhere. I see them act like uncaged animals.

Arturo said. “Fine, I'm sorry I just don't like it when you guys argue. It makes me feel uncomfortable especially when I can read your minds." Artie apologized and I turned around and smiled at him. “I'm not your daddy so feel at easy with me. It would be weird if you started acting nice all of a sudden." I mentioned to him and he blushed. ‘How cute'. “Don't call me cute", he screamed and I laughed. We got to the hide out I had discovered on my search. It was clear and few men were working.