Booktok Art Novels & Stories

"Can't you tell?" Madelyn smiled. She knew if she did not tell him, he probably would not be in the mood to study. There was no one in the library now. So, Madelyn took an art book from her backpack and pushed it toward him. "You're the first to see this art book besides me." Forrest flipped through the pages one by one. They were all landscapes sketched with pencil lines, and Madelyn labeled each with a location. "Is it nice?" Madelyn asked.

The little triangle thing, he suddenly wondered if it had a name, was pointing to yes. The window on the other side of the door asked “Do I really need another candle?” The magic 8 ball underneath it had the answer of “Yes – Definitely” On the door in elegant script was Botanica Wiccan Bookstore, established 2006 Ciara Goode, Proprietess In both windows were elaborate and beautiful displays of books, candles, crystals, tarot cards and novelties. Working up his courage, Knuckles got off his bike and walked inside. He had expected the whole place to be dark and broody.

As she awoke from the dream, the echoes of her artistic exploration lingered in her mind, a reminder of the transformative energy and boundless potential of self-expression through art. Mama Hazel sat in the cozy corner of Theo's room, the soft glow of the nightlight casting a warm ambiance as she cradled the well-loved storybook in her hands. Three-year-old Theo, with his curious eyes and tousled hair, snuggled up close, his little hand reaching out to touch the colorful illustrations on the pages.

They sat me in the middle and took turns feeding me bites from their plates, making me laugh when Kai pretended to steal a strawberry from my lips. “So tell us,” Tate said, leaning back in his chair, “what kind of art do you want to make while you’re here? We cleared out the entire west wing for your studio. Skylights, the best supplies money can buy, whatever you need.” I took a sip of coffee and thought for a moment. “I’ve always wanted to paint something big and bold. Something that feels alive. Maybe abstracts inspired by the ocean… or by how I feel when I’m with all of you.”

Corrian says as we pass a reading nook with oversized bean bag chairs and a shelf full of books no toddler would read. I catch one title, ‘Teeth Are Not for Biting (But Sometimes They Are)’. I raise an eyebrow. “Special how?” He doesn’t answer. We pass a hallway lined with artwork. Crayon drawings, finger paints, but some of them are odd. Red scribbles in circular patterns, shapes that look more like symbols than animals. One has a giant black figure drawn with scratchy lines and tiny words underneath it. I lean closer. ‘The Bad Ones Are Coming.’