Madara Artwork Novels & Stories

The three of them stared back at me, waiting for me to say something smart and artsy, but all I could think of was that dreadful sixth grade art project that I made. “Abstract!” I cried out with joy as I remembered that ugly million-dollar painting that Maddison made my dad buy. She said something about it being a priceless work of art and how it was to be preserved at all cost. I remembered thinking that it looked like a toddler threw their lunch all over the canvas and decided to finger paint with it.

Most showed ordinary childish things: flowers, birds, their house beneath crooked yellow suns, stick figures holding hands. But one drawing made him pause.. A thin figure labelled as MAMA stood near the backyard, flowers cluthced carefully in one hand. Beside her stood another figure. Taller. Drawn only with rough pencil strokes. No face. No details. Just a dark shape standing close enough to matter. Beneath the drawing, Zara had written carefully in uneven handwriting: HE LOVES MAMA'S MARIGOLDS. Something cold settled deep inside Arman's chest. He stared at the page for a long time before quietly putting it back exactly where he found it.

Moza guided softly, pointing to the image on her phone screen. Her agile fingers maneuvered a crayon, assisting Abigail with refining several intricate details. She corrected the sweep of the eyebrows and the contours of the eyes, causing Abigail’s creation to look significantly more vivid and accurate. Following the added strokes of color, two unique and character-filled portraits were successfully completed. Moza flicked a glance at the wall clock. The hands pointed to half-past four in the afternoon. A sudden flutter of anxiety surged in her chest; it was time for her to prepare for the high-profile gala.

The arches in the ceiling were painted sea green. ‘Strange color,’ thought Buddy out loud, sitting on one of the old benches. Then he took the sketchbook out of his backpack. Drawing was his thing, Maddie knew. He was very good at it. He liked to draw old things that still contained the soul, according to Buddy. That is why he had also noticed Bemmel's painting, which looked very real. ‘It's like I can capture the old energy from old buildings like this,’ he said. Maddie frowned.

She will play along with his acts until he reveals what he truly wants. His study is very different from what she sees in Russian movies. It was not filled with books but with nothing. In the dark navy blue motif study only the thick mahogany table is there and a few file binders arranged above it. Walls have expensive Russian paintings. The themes are like slavery, landscapes and people doing their own businesses. What kind of person is Vanluke Kromatova? She thought idiosyncrasy.

My eyes scan the portraits one by one, trying to find inspiration, when my eye travels to a corner I rarely venture to look at. I swallow. My eyes lock on the all-black painting. The only color is a pair of red glowing eyes. This. This image is of my nightmares. I was plagued for years with this image. I haven't thought of it in so long. A shiver shoots up my spine as I break my eye lock and return to my blank canvas. **** I painted for a bit, but decided I needed to ground myself a bit more. I head downtown to a little neighborhood I like to call Hallow Glen. I don't know why. I just like the way it sounds.

"But what if I want something ridiculous? Like, say, a life-sized statue of a flamingo?" Zandrei's grin widened into a genuine, unguarded smile that transformed his entire face. "Then I'll buy you a life-sized statue of a flamingo," he replied without missing a beat. "And I'll even help you find the perfect spot for it in the garden. Though, I draw the line at pink flamingos. Only silver or gold for my woman." Marceline's laughter grew and the sound was music to his ears. She felt a sense of lightness she hadn't experienced in a while. It was almost like the feeling of being truly seen and cherished.

"Don't be absurd! Do you want to die for offending Madison?" "I'm just stating facts! At Madison's birthday party, Miss Davidson gifted a painting by Craig, only to be falsely accused of presenting a forgery and have it torn apart on the spot!" "Tore up a Craig oil painting? Goodness, Madison adores art collections. Craig's paintings aren't for sale." "Where was the torn painting thrown? Tell me, and I'll go pick it up!" "I heard Wanda did it. As Alpha Winslow's mate, she can't even recognize an authentic Craig?"

[my love] The days passed quickly, with Madie spending time with her artistic side painting their room with whatever she wanted. One side of the wall had flowers and plants in them, the other had animals. He wasn't sure if one of them was a unicorn or just a disfigured giraffe. He didn't ask the artist. Dario would help sometimes, but Madeline would shush him away and kick him out because of the mess he caused. Now, after days of designing their room a new look, Madie was taking a break in a nearby doughnut store with Hop and Neil, and others more, as her guards.

Sara’s other health problems were also left in the past. Sara grew into a beautiful young woman, with long black hair, long legs, and a full figure. Just like her mother, she never failed to attract attention wherever she went. Can you guess what profession Sara chose? She was studying plastic surgery and was quite a successful student. But for now, let’s go back to Magdalena. Magdalena… A young woman full of life, energy, hope, and sexual desire. The same woman who had committed horrific crimes, who had arranged for her lover to kill her husband, then killed her lover herself, dumped their bodies into a ravine, and burned them both.