Jjba Artwork Novels & Stories

Many had vicious brush strokes etched into their surfaces. Scenes of barren forests, feral animals, and landscapes both serene and haunting, were painted into the white fabrics. A large metal cart held tubs of acrylic and oil paints. Against the far wall was a table topped with pastels and chalks. Many times I had told Jude how much his art could sell for. Each time he’d say the things he painted weren’t made for just any set of eyes. They were special to him. One rare, fragile thing that he cared about, even if he claimed otherwise.

Gabriel said. "Whatever," Jordan said as he came down from the bed. "I'll be right back, I want to use the restroom" "Okay son take your time," Gabriel said. Gabriel went back to looking at Jordan's drawings, they were mostly landscapes and animal drawings but there was a different one, it was a portrait of Minx. He drew her so perfectly that it almost looked like a photo taken by a camera. "Please don't tell her I have a painting of her," Jordan said as he took the painting from Gabriel.

"I can see that. It’s like the painting is alive." "That’s the magic of art," he said with a grin. "It can make you feel something profound, sometimes without you even realizing it." Their eyes met, and for a moment, the bustling gallery seemed to fade into the background. Jayla felt a connection in their shared admiration for the artwork. "I’m Jade, by the way." "Nice to meet you, Jade. I’m Brock," he said, extending a hand. "It’s always nice to find someone who appreciates art."

As he was thinking, Baji wrote something on the cover, just under the circle. Jai shook his head as nothing came into his mind. “I got nothing else.” Baji sighed through his nose. The man pointed to the kanji. “Have a look.” Jai looked at the cover of the document, which now had another thing drawn upon it. It was the kanji for ‘Scar’, the same one that Arata used. “It’s the same word Arata gave me.” Jai said. “Can you read it?” Baji asked. Jai nodded.

she snapped, “I need to get back the shop before the boss has my head. Is this about the Bloody Barbies again?” Bloody Barbie was the nickname Maria gave to the murders ever since she’d gotten involved as a suspect. It was an apt name. Each crime scene that had been investigated was painted red with each victim’s blood, and in each one there would be a bloody doll left behind (though, not exactly a Barbie), no less than three feet away from the body.

I knocked aside their hands and bolted into Belgard. The first horror that greeted me was graffiti scrawled across the 10,000-dollar wine barrels: *Jacques Mightiest*. Every glass I had commissioned at great expense from master artisans bore a tacky tag that read, *Art, by Jacques.* The drawing room, once lined with refined paintings by masters spanning centuries, had been stripped. The canvases lay heaped in a corner as though set out for a yard sale. In their place, an ugly canvas reading "Jacques and the Jax-Minnies" hung at the center of the wall.

"We're going to be okay." "We?" "Us. Together. Always." Jay squeezed his hand. "I love you." Cole squeezed back. "I know." The gallery was in the West Loop. White walls. High ceilings. Track lighting. Jay's paintings were already on the walls. Sixty pieces. Figures in fields. Men on hills. Women by the water. People standing in the light. Jay walked through the room slowly. He looked at each painting. He didn't say anything. "Jay?" Cole said.

Jace said, tugging my jeans back into place, then seeing to his own with the matter-of-fact efficiency of a man whose priorities are well established. He had started selling his work online. Paintings and drawings of the mountain, of animals caught in unguarded moments, of nature rendered with the intimacy of someone who had spent years learning to read it. He had the following. Not one that knew his face or his name beyond Jace, just people who could feel, looking at his work, that whoever made it belonged to what they were painting. "We'll drop them when I go to work," I said. He took my hand.

I’ve never shown my doodles to anyone, my parents didn’t encourage me to draw, whining that it wouldn’t pay the bills. “Oh this is just… I was just killing time,” I say, reaching for it. Jesse grabs it before I can, cat like fucking reflexes. What is their animal? Do they have the same one? I watch with interest as she studies it. “That’s from Avengers right? Black Widow,” Jenna says, a smile on her face.

She had so many pictures and videos to share with her friends, that she refused to spend hours uploading it all twice, first to F******k and then to the Hey, Jay! Jim frowned when she sent him a link to F******k. “Come to Suckerborg county to take a look.” Barbara was getting dressed for the opening of an art gallery they’d been invited to, and it looked like he had time to read Shakespeare’s complete works before she was ready. “I’ll be downstairs,” he said. He grabbed a beer and a joint and went to sit by the swimming pool, at the deck opening to the beach three hundred feet away. He took the time to see every picture and watch every video.