Heavenly White Paint Novels & Stories

"Right there. With the moon behind you. Perfect. You're perfect. I need to paint this." I squeezed paint onto my palette. Blues and whites and silvers. And I also use black for the shadows. Purples for depth and mystery. Then I began. My brush moved across the canvas with confidence I didn't remember earning. Quick, sure strokes. Like my hands knew what to do even if my mind didn't question where the skill came from. The wolf took shape. It was Massive and majestic. White fur that seemed to glow in the moonlight. Silver eyes that held centuries of intelligence and power.

“What white?” “The cream. I see almost a transparent cream.” “Are we talking about the Salvaben Cream?” “Yes,” I replied. “It’s not white or transparent. It’s green. The darker the green, the stronger it is. It’s herbs—special herbs, thus the color.” My heart thundered as I looked at the white or clear gel in my hand.

, which was what they called the little six by six heavily ventilated room they had to store and mix paint in. Along one wall there was a work counter, but other than that the whole room was lined with shelves of paint almost to the ceiling. In the corner there was an urn-like machine that old paint got poured into and the thinner extracted from. They'd recycle it and use it to clean stuff around the shop. The paint closet was always clean and well organized. It was a necessity in their line of business, where they often had custom artwork projects where paint couldn't be mixed or mistaken. They were sorted by manufacturer, then by colour, then by finish type. That made it very easy to match