Framed Scripture Wall Art Novels & Stories

The presence grew larger and larger until. "I can't take it anymore!" Traga said scaredly. He quickly ran ahead of the group leaving the rest of them. Everyone started panicking as Traga went further and further. Everyone else followed and that was when the frightening presence that was trailing behind them came closer and closer. "Everybody runs quickly!" Cheng, the leader of the group, said loudly. They can already see it much clearer, the fortified wall of the city that surrounds the entire mountain city of Aslem. On top of the 80 meter tall wall were soldiers that patrol the wall and luckily right in front of them was the west gate of the city.

A soothing balm for her anger. And at the pulpit, toward the front, another stranger, a skinny young man with hair the color of orange flame and hands paler than her whitest whites, fiddled with something or other—papers, probably—his back to her. Behind him, on the wall above, a life-sized Christ hung on a crucifix. She closed her eyes. Pushed the image of Him away with a whispered . . . “Heavenly Father, allow Your Son Jesus to come now with the Holy Spirit, the Blessed Virgin Mary, the holy angels and the saints—”

Annabeth stands back to admire her handiwork, and I can’t help but clap my hands like a kid. With the addition of each work of art, the walls have come to life, the different shades of grey providing the perfect foil for the bright drawings and paintings. Next to each frame is a white card with the name of the artist and title of the artwork, along with a brief description and a price.

She was left with no choice and left alongside Nicholas who said that he will send her to the library before he leaves. Zinnia already knew that saying no will only annoy the overly doting man and so she didn’t react to it anymore. She can only allow the man to pamper her to his heart's content. As they walked past the tall gigantic walls, Zinnia went silent as she felt the extreme familiarity from the artworks hanging on the wall. Some of the framed artworks had names on them while the others didn't. Most of them were sketches of forests, wolves, the moon, and some kind of artwork about a goddess that somehow causes her mind to go blank from time to time.

But that wasn't what made her breath hitch. On the walls were paintings. And not just any paintings. Paintings of naked bodies engaging in nasty things. One big canvas, held a hyper realistic painting of a woman on her knees, throat bulging around a thick black cock. Another painting was a muscled man on all fours, face slack as two men were slammed inside his ass and mouth. The biggest piece was a woman sprawled on a huge bed covered in red drapes, legs spread wide, a fat prick was buried in her slick pussy.

Zachary was staring at the paintings mounted on the wall. Most of the subjects were naked, posing in different erotic positions. The owner of the office loved the human body without a doubt, he mused. There were plenty of nude arts decorated, ranging from men and women to a group of individuals. Every painting that hung on the wall had its own signatures and placed in a beautiful frame that added value. Some were worth millions or thousands of dollars. Zachary was not a fan of that kind of art, but he appreciates how the painter gave his or her best to produce a state-of-the-art piece.

At that instant, the images before him disappeared, and he found himself in an unfamiliar place. This was a room of about fifty square meters, and it was surrounded by mysterious light walls on all sides. Magical symbols and characters appeared only to disappear on the wall. James scanned his surroundings puzzledly. “I-Is this the Chamber of Scriptures? What story is this? How am I supposed to obtain the martial art manuals?” He slowly walked toward a light wall, on which mysterious symbols and characters glimmered. Believing that his hands could pass through the wall, he extended his arm.

He gives me a relieved smile and pulls me inside the building. We're in a small hallway. The walls are lined with gorgeous framed prints of Biblical-inspired art. I look at them as we pass, trying to absorb what strength I can from the images of angels and saints. Finally, Ward stops in front of a set of double doors that bear a brass plaque that says "Sanctuary." I can hear an organ playing on the other side. "This is it," he says, not to me. I nod. "This is it." I brace myself for the worst: for everyone to turn and look at us, for the family to recognize us and cause a scene, for the press to come rushing in and capture the whole thing on camera.

Whenever two or more are gathered in the name of Love, there is Love. "That's not the quote from the Bible." "No, and it's not the one from Peter, Paul and Mary either. But it's the one I want and I want the words 'or more' made just a little bigger and bolder than the rest. Ok?" "How big?" "Bigger than eight and a half by eleven but not as big as eleven by seventeen. It will be hanging on a white wall in a room with lots of green in it." "This isn't a gift? It's for you?"

Too good. I’m not sure how I missed all of this last night, but if I’m being honest, the explanation probably involves the most dangerous mouth I’ve ever trusted with my dick. Or his ass. One of the two. The ugly yellow-and-blue floral wallpaper is still here, which surprises me. I doubt Alessia would approve. But the art Jesus. The art changes everything. The hallway is lined with photographs. Large. Moody. Men and women suspended underwater, naked or nearly so, wrapped in flesh-toned silk that coils around them like secrets. Each piece feels intimate. Personal. Like something you’re not meant to look at for too long.