Artistic Outcast Novels & Stories

"Uncontrolled. The complete opposite of what Dmitri commissioned." I pushed myself up onto my elbows. "It's what happens when you crush a person, Ivan. You get fragments, not form." Ivan turned from the canvas, his expression detached. "We crushed the weakness, Leo, not the talent. The talent is still intact. This," he gestured to the chaotic artwork, "is a necessary phase of self-pity. You are attempting to externalize the emotional turbulence you cannot process internally." "No," I argued, my voice hoarse. "This is my mind finally shouting the truth. I am trapped. I am owned. And every hour I spend here is a betrayal of the only life I had."

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

Zara found her place card between Petra and an empty seat that turned out to belong to Ines, who arrived late and sat down with the expression of someone who had weighed the social consequences of absence and found them marginally worse than attendance. The Grand Hall was extraordinary in the way that places built by people with unlimited resources and a need to be remembered always were vaulted ceiling, long tables of dark wood, candlelight that was either genuinely atmospheric or a calculated aesthetic choice, probably both. The wolf students occupied the central tables. The five outcasts had been placed at a table near the left wall, close enough to the room's main event to be technically

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.

I lost complete control of my hands and let my instincts take control. Art is my escape.

" I am not a traitor. And I will never be a traitor." " You are not a traitor. You are not just an ordinary traitor but you are a wicked one also. You made a deal that would lead to the fall of this country and you think you are not a traitor. " He chuckled. " You know what, Chief Joe Maxwell? I am done with you. I will see you again. " He turned and headed back into his car. Chief Joe Maxwell stood transfixed as the Chevrolet Impala drove out of the vicinity. His whole body iced down . Still in confusion as to what the next move would be, he settled in his car and started driving off, having no particular destination in mind.

Moreover, they held similar stoic looks. “It clearly seems, they don’t want you anymore, your out of their life now, you got to move on without them. This house, is what it is..” “What do you mean?” “We were all cast out, by family, by friends, by Love ones. And here we’re. We grow stronger. And deal with everyone who dealt with us. Revenge it is for us.” Elina looked at him, with the tears streaming down her face, she didn’t bother, wiping them off. But just let it flow.