Madara Artwork Novels & Stories

Maia was quietly taking in the view of the paintings on the wall. “Here’s Mr. Spencer, Ms. Maia.” She saw the artist in question about five minutes later. “Greetings,” she said. “So you're Spencer.” “That’s me.” Spencer signed. He was immediately worried that she couldn’t understand him and moved to take out a piece of paper and a pen. Maia saw it and signed with a smile, “I can understand you. My younger brother’s deaf and mute as well.” He nodded in understanding. “I see. How can I help you, Ms. Maia? Mr. Buck told me that you own my last work, the ‘Contemplating Lady,’ which I made before I graduated from the school.”

Yet, its warmth couldn't reach the chill deep in my heart. Instead of returning to the villa, I found a secluded guesthouse and curled up on the couch. Fragments of the past surged through my mind, only to fade into a numb silence. I was about to nod off when my phone suddenly rang. It was the family butler, Pietro Vecchio. "Miss Giordano, there's been an accident at the new dock!" he said urgently in a trembling voice. "The container storing the arms exploded unexpectedly, and half the dock's cargo ships and loading zones were destroyed.

I uttered nervously and scratched my eyebrow. Is this her grandmother? She looks scary, indeed! "I'm looking for Magda," I said. "I brought some food for her," I added and smiled awkwardly. I scratched the back of my head. I was devastated when her eyes narrowed as if she were reading me. "Who's Magda?" she asked confusedly. "There's no Magda here. Go away!" the old lady scolded me and turned her back. I panicked. I hold the gate quickly to avoid closing it. She stopped because of what I did.

I sat beside Alex as everyone entered the hall. I was lost in the painting opposite me when Alex lightly nudged me. “Darling?” I turned to him in surprise, and he nodded towards his grandmother. “It seems…” she raised her eyebrows, prompting me to reintroduce myself. “Alice ma’am.” Did she forget my name already? We just met when we arrived. “…Alice is so captivated by the artwork. Do you know about paintings?” “I don’t really know much about it ma’am.” “That is El Ficado’s work. It’s the only oil optical illusion painting he has. It’s really captivating.” Maddie smiled.

There were just two equals who had stripped away each other's armor and chosen to stay in the ruins. ​When Adrian pulled back, his hands slid down to wrap firmly around Kai’s waist, pulling him close against his chest. He looked past Kai’s shoulder to the massive canvas leaning against the brick wall. The final piece of The Triad of the Soil series was finished. It was a sprawling, visceral depiction of the Nairobi skyline emerging from a deep, textured root system made of charcoal and vibrant gold leaf. It was beautiful, complex, and entirely alive.

She says pointing to a man walking down the corridor we just walked down. “Adira excuse us for a moment.” Maggie says guiding Simon toward the man. “I’ll be right back.” Simon says looking at me closely. “Sure.” I say letting go of his hand. They walk away leaving me to look at the art work. “This is incredible.” I whisper to myself staring at a painting of an old woman staring back at me. She has her hands wrapped around her neck. Her face is wrinkled and weathered. Her hands and arms look like they have been overused; the state of her skin lets me know she’s lived a long and tedious life.

She looked at Mona and exhaled heavily, “Do you know of a magic that could create a puppet version of a person?” “Yeah of course there is. You could use some medium for example wax, clays or sands.. so it would look like you except for the fact that you wouldn’t be harmed even if the puppet is destroyed.” “And if they are destroyed, those puppet will return to the medium it was used?” Rose saw Mona who nodded her head up and down, appearing confused as to how she knew about this. Rose massaged her forehead and sat down to her couch. She could see it would be useless for her to chase after the maid, especially when she would be long gone by now.

“Such a noble young man, you reduced the quantity of my drink so I wouldn't be drunk. “I see you are a lover of Art”. "Yes, I am, I love Van Gogh; he is my favourite artist. I love his Sunrise chronicles. My eyes widened at the mention of that. Madison was gradually revealing another part of herself; she was a lover of art too. “You won't believe what I have in my room; come let me show you” I said excitedly as I held my hands out to her. She gulped her drink again and gave me her hand. I took Madison’s hand and we went upstairs. She was amazed when she saw the Sunset Chronicles on my wall. She walked towards it and ran her hand over the painting. Seeing her happy made me smile.

Her. Maybe the next chapter wasn’t in New York after all. --- Later that evening, Nathaniel found himself scrolling through Amara’s online gallery. Her paintings were visceral. Bold. Vulnerable. Some of them angry. Others quietly devastated. One caught him off guard—an abstract portrait. Red and black. Gold streaks slashing across the canvas. Her pain. Her power. He clicked away. But it stayed with him. Across the apartment, Monroe’s assistant sent over the first round of intel. Name. Age. Education. Former exhibitions. Past relationship with Liam Blackwood. Pregnant.

She’s not wearing any undergarments. “Here,” she says, twisting to show me her back and shoulder. “This is what you’re looking for, right?” Madison’s back is a canvas of bony ridges. I want to take her downstairs to the kitchen and plop her in front of a stack of Ollie’s famous pancakes. But instead I stare at the canvas of pain and hurt spread across her body. Painted on her right shoulder in stark black ink is the familiar shape of a fox on its haunches, its black body surrounded by thick, detailed chains.