Crazy Art Novels & Stories

"I don't know what to do. School's finished and I don't have a clue, but I want to do something, something exciting." "So, you want to pose nude, be in a horny movie with some strangers?" Charles asked, staring at her in disbelief. "In order to get the gig with him, I had to show him some of my work. He knows what my portfolios look like." "Do you object?" Sheri asked. "Is there something wrong with it?" "No, no," Charles said. "You're an adult and you should do whatever you want to do as long as you don't hurt anyone in the process, including yourself."

She just opened her mouth to protest when the agency staff called Diandra's name to change her clothes quickly. *** "Just because I'm your best friend, you can't just use my face for your business." Jake snorted loudly, lazily plopping himself onto the lounge couch at his best friend Adam's agency. He didn't want to come because his brain had started to shift since he met Arsyila last night. The thought of how Arsyila smiled sweetly and when he slept with her had succeeded in making Jake go crazy. Of course, Jake was trying to forget the crazy woman. However, not all is as easy as he would like. Arsyila poisoned him, inside and out. Not only has his brain shifted, but also his physical body

I asked, feeling a little brave with my brow raised. “Insecure?” He laughed, resting his hands on his hips. “No, not even close.” I grinned. “Just a weirdo then?” “Oh honey, you have no idea.” “I think I’m starting to get the idea.” I wasn’t embarrassed to look around the room anymore, taking in his strange and macabre art pieces, both finished and not. There were paints left out, a plethora of melted candles, and scraps of leather in all different kinds of colors. He was certainly not a neatfreak.

My subconscious blamed me. "You know I will not worry too much about anything." I said to myself. I pulled off my coat and sat on the couch to study the drawings. I have five beings to find and I haven't found any. The three of us had five drawings which were all the same, that made the whole thing look more real. The first, a little boy, around Kabal's age. He has a special kind of eye, it looked too white, not gray, he's a little shepard. Second, like a slave girl, I see that she works in a brothel, She has a short hair that barely reached her shoulder. Third, a male with a pet, a white wild cat. Fourth, also a male, he has a birthmark beneath his left eye. The fifth, it's hard to discern

She clung so tightly to the frame of the canvas. "I'm dizzy Sir," Daisy said with her hands on her forehead. She could feel it spinning all around. "What's going on?" Daisy asked the artist nervously. She glanced at him and saw that the artist seemed excited as he watched her. "That's how it feels at first, you feel dizzy. Until you feel like you're slowly entering the painting!" Gregorio pointed to the painting with a hole in the middle like a whirlwind. "What do you mean?" The girl asked. She was very scared. Daisy fell on the floor. But with the intensity of the dizziness, she could not stand.

He gives a charming smile that does something to my stomach. "Sure. Now. The walls seem a bit bare. So, I wanted to know if you had any pieces we could hang." I ask. "No. But I know where I can get some." He eyes me. I get what he means. "No. Bastian. I already told you. No one sees my art. You weren't even supposed to see it." "Sammy. Your art is amazing. Please. I just want to show everyone how talented you are." He pleads.

After being used to the bustling city of the capital, occasionally visiting such an exhibition can really achieve the effect of relaxing and pursuing the beauty of the soul. Every painting in it is made by Chen Ran, and everything is so elegant and rare. Not all the paintings are put on the canvas. There are only one sample picture in some places, such as the middle of the large picture. Now the canvas is covered by a white cloth, and there is no main picture in it. She walked all the way along the sign to the inside. Some pictures were displayed. She stopped in front of a picture made at the latest time. The painting above is a field. On the green motherboard, the grass and trees are ash li

Crazy Wife Gotta be brave! Barry!"I ran inside to hug him so close as more tears ran through my eyes wetting his cloth. No. Mum isn't right. I wouldn't leave Barry. I wouldn't get married again. I refused to be a ball passed around. I refuse to become useless I feel Barry's hand rubbing my back slowly soothing every pain I had. But I cried the more tightening the hug I gave him We might remain like this till God knows when!

she gestured grandly at the explosion of half-squeezed paint tubes, stacked canvases leaning precariously, brushes soaking in murky jars, and the ever-present scent of linseed oil and turpentine, "is the sacred ground where magic happens. Tidying it is practically sacrilege." I yanked a paint-splattered drop cloth off the floor, sending a small cascade of dried pigment flakes onto my boots. "It’s not sacrilege, it’s basic human decency! He’s not coming to witness the 'magic,' he’s coming to see the space. And right now, the space looks like a grenade went off in a particularly passionate art supply store." My voice pitched higher than intended. "Where do I even put this?" I held up a large,

Within the dream library, Hazel found herself surrounded by a kaleidoscope of artistic energy and creativity, each color and shape pulsating with a life of its own. The air was filled with the hum of inspiration, the energy of imagination swirling around her like a symphony of artistic passion. As she journeyed through the vibrant tapestry of colors and forms, Hazel felt a deep connection to her inner artist, a wellspring of ideas and emotions waiting to be translated into visual poetry. Each brushstroke, each daub of pigment, each stroke of her hand on the canvas held the power to capture the essence of her thoughts and feelings, bringing to life a world of beauty and meaning.