Artwork Novel Novels & Stories

Polite applause followed her win, but she only sat back, satisfied, as an assistant placed the velvet box in her hands. Alex leaned closer. “Happy now?” She smirked. “Very.” Then the lights dimmed slightly as the announcer returned. “And now, the final piece of the evening… a highly anticipated work by Nova, one of the rising stars in the art world.” Two men walked forward and carefully removed the covering cloth. A gasp echoed through the room. The painting was vivid and dark at the same time. Swirls of deep blue and crimson collided at the center. At the heart of it, a blurred figure—sad, lonely—stood surrounded by shadows, reaching toward something out of frame. Pain and longing radiated

she turned away from me again, running her fingers down the spines of a few water-warped novels. You. "The one behind my desk," I answered. "It's my favorite." Evelyn looked over my desk at the worn down novel, the years and years of use made it delicate. She stroked a gentle finger over the cover. "It looks well-loved." "Do you have a favorite book, Evelyn?" I asked, leaning back at the table, our dirty dishes stacked neatly, ready for a cabin boy to take them away in the morning. She glanced at me from over her shoulder, a smile pulling on the corners of her lips. A devious smirk that screamed indignance. "I do. It's called, 'The Art of Profanity'."

Daniel and April spent the day in the Sun Room as Daniel sketched and drew ideas. It was love. The man was in a creative flurry. His work for his next show sat completed and drying by lunchtime that day. He was onto his next exhibit and inspired by what he had seen. He had ideas for over twenty art pieces. Each one was unique but had one thing in common. A lone haunting image of a woman wearing a flower crown. It was inspiring and haunting. His recent work appeared so different from his past work, but so innovative and unique.

However, I focus more on art, even though that’s regarded as a weird hobby by many. There…it’s not a lie now, right? NovellWarrior: Hey, art is not weird! If I could draw myself, I’d be even greater than whoever painted the Mona Lisa! It’s good to know that you’re an artist, and even if it is weird, there’s space for honest weirdos in my book club.

She pulled it out, sneezed once as dust motes tickled her nostrils, and lowered the book on the coffee table. The title was written in cursive gold letters, 'The Art Of The Body'. Clearly out of curiosity, she opened to the middle of the book, and her eyes nearly popped out in pure mortification. The book contained explicit diagrams of men and women in different, erotic, sexual poses.

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Next, I went to another room which was located on the opposite side of my room and entered it. I don't know what to do with all these people..he is sleeping with a book on his face. I know that he always does this and if we remove that he will wake up in an instant. I went and took the book from his face and said, "Wake up Ishaan, my bookworm." "Good morning bro," he said while opening his eyes. Then he stood up and went to the bathroom to freshen up.

She’s taken an interest in her and I don’t know why- I mean she’s adorable and brilliant of course, but I don’t think that’s why Maurice keeps asking about her. Author and I are currently in the waiting room, a place that’s grown comfortable to us. I’m leaning back in the comfortable leather seats while Author inspects a painting, his arms crossed behind his back. “I think I’ve been here before.” Arthur says, keeping his eyes focused on the landscape. It’s an oil painting of a lake leading to a purple mountain reflected in the water and a big full moon off to the side which is reflected also in the glistening water. I cock my head. It looks like the type of painting that’s hung up in every s

Though I wasn’t really vain enough to say my body was fantastic in them, the quality of the photos themselves was undeniable. Arthur truly was an artist. There was this indescribable beauty to the photos, a softness that he somehow captured. I guess I could see now why he was so determined to get these pictures. He really was creating art. As I closed the book, the title shone in gilded letters in the dark. The Nine Muses: A Discussion. A beautiful book, but by no means did it sound interesting. I doubted anyone would bother to look in it.

Our absence was noticed, but not questioned too deeply. Avoidance was an art, and I had mastered it long ago. The construction company had begun its work on the outskirts of the land. Stone by stone, foundation by foundation, my plans were taking form. Today, Ser Lewis and I have hired more artisans and placed additional orders. We were incognito to avoid being seen. We were in the marketplace when I walked straight into irritation incarnate. “New novel out!” “New novel of Aries and Luca out! A new version with illustrations!”