Book Art And Fear Novels & Stories

I let my worry come forward, because no matter how much I might like to pretend he would always be fine, it does not change the fact that one day, he might not. “Of course I would.” He places a light kiss on my forehead. I escort myself up and I try to ignore how much the sound of the car driving away sounds very similar to my heart ripping apart. I find myself going to my painting room instead of my bed. I painted the entire night. Once in a while, a deep sense of fear prompts me to make an entire new piece. I paint my biggest fears, I let it consume me. I pretend it actually happened and let my pain drive me till I complete it.

I said quietly, “that my wolf was weak, dormant, that she didn’t want to be with me and for a long time, I believed them.” The man didn’t interrupt me, he simply nodded, as though he had heard it all before. “But now…” My voice faltered, “now I know she wasn’t sleeping, she was waiting, and I’m scared of what that means.” He stepped closer, his steps slow, but heavy, his voice coming out really gentle. “Being feared doesn’t make you dangerous, girl, acting from fear...that’s what destroys everything.” I stared down at the page, not exactly understanding anything he said, my eyes lingered on a few drawings… hand-sketched figures of wolves with two shadows, with eyes split in color, with large

He unlocked the door with his eyes and they went in. From the first step into the art gallery, there was an aura of a different world. It was like a cave, with ancient lighting. There were so many art works on the walls of this place. It was beautiful and the fine artistic works took Elisa's fear away. It was an admiration of one artwork that led to another.

With a quick, desperate stride, I crossed the room towards the bookshelf, my eyes scanning the rows of novels and art magazines, hoping to catch a glimpse of the colors that had always brought me solace. A growing unease settled within me as the minutes ticked by, my frantic search yielding no results. I could feel my heart sink, my hands trembling in frustration. The artistic expression that had always been my sanctuary, my voice in a chaotic world, had vanished, leaving me feeling hollow and incomplete. For a moment, I considered the possibility that someone had taken them. A thief in the night, sneaking away with my treasured tools of creation.

"I understand, professor." Her thoughts were in turmoil. Lila had shown her a newspaper, its contents igniting a wave of anxiety within her. It hinted at a threat to her hidden existence of many years. Leading the art exhibition the next day felt daunting. The fear of being recognized, particularly by Zach, gnawed at her. In a crowd of renowned individuals, she feared standing out and facing a past she had fled from. She was unprepared to return.

"That is why when we look at the dark and claim we see ghosts, it might just be the product of the human mind, right? Our brain manipulates images through fear." The girl jumped off the wall in front of him before grinning. She tiptoed before messing up with his hair. "Funny how you know such things and still get scared of the supernatural." Sane pouted. "Knowledge can't stop fear, Haniel, at least not every time. Like we are all aware, the longer the days we spend alive, the closer we are to our graves, but that awareness and knowledge still don't stop other people from fearing death." Sane peered his head to look at the houses of Nikolaj’s and Edmund’s as they passed by them. "And we can n

"I just can't understand how something beautiful can be so scary. Like the river, the moon's reflection, everything about it, it's beautiful. But at the same time, it's eerie like something lurks beneath the lake, and it's dragging the person down." Thalia put the fork down after she finished eating her omelet. "Is that so?" she got off her bed and took another look at her painting. No matter how she saw it, it represented last night's fear that she felt. A single hand clawing past the water surface of the lake, breaking the tranquil reflection of the moon in it, the fingers curled at an odd angle as if trying to grab on something. But couldn't grab anything. It reeked of desperation and fea

“Ummm, can you please let me into Nerissa’s room? My book, The Art of Sculpture Making is with her” “Are you perhaps trying to major in sculpture making?” There was this glint of something dark that flashed across his eyes. At that moment, I knew that he was scared that Nerissa must have up to put up with another competitor. I shook my head. “No” He heaved a sigh of relief. “Then why do you have the book then?” “Because reading is art and I love art” “Oh okay, you can take the book then…” He finally allowed me to leave while I walked behind the servants who carried the box to Nerissa’s room. The box was dropped in Nerissa’s room and that was when a thought flashed through my mind.

The art exhibition is a huge success. Werewolves despise humans entering our world. But these humans have their use. They’re a necessary evil, helping to protect our secret. My art hides the truth—that anything out of the ordinary ever happens here. This gallery, this entire event, is nothing more than a camouflage. Everything is going as I planned. Yet something feels wrong. Magdalena, my Beta, approaches. “We have some guests waiting for photos,” she says with a frown, her displeasure with humans clear.

The terror is a quiet thing. It doesn’t scream; it seeps. It’s in the way the bristles of my brush feel foreign in my hand, like holding a stranger’s bones. It’s in the way the pristine, mocking white of the new canvas seems to swallow all the light in the room, leaving nothing but the hollow echo of my own doubt.