Midna Artwork Novels & Stories

I look through canvas upon canvas of artwork Lilah has clearly spent much time, care and love painting… there are landscapes… there are young children playing in the forest with a wolf watching nearby…. There is a picture of what I think is Selene the moon goddess with a white wolf by her side standing in the light of the moon…. there is a modern art portrait take of Indie which I have to say is amazing!.... there is many pictures of shadows of wolves in the background of what at first glance look like a normal day to day picture, then I pick up a canvas which Lilah quickly grabs from me…. “Oh that one is no good” she moves to get up with it so I cant see it, but I am quicker than she is and

Threading my fingers in my hair, I pressed my face against the desk and released a huge sigh. It hurts. Why does it hurt? I pulled out my phone and I scrolled through my gallery, littered with Xania's pictures and videos. I scrolled through the pictures I had taken of her when she was painting, she was on her knees with one paintbrush pushed against her middle ear, while the thinner brush was in between her delicate fingers, she said that brush was for detailing the textures the thicker brush couldn't do. Once she finished her painting, I could clearly see what she meant about the detailing. The colours she used were primarily dark although some were bright, the painting had some kind of flo

I feel the effect as it pulls energy from the building, filling me with more than enough for this fight. “You think that gives you an advantage over me? Who’s stupid now, Aphrodite? Blood River isn’t my only pack. I just told you, I’m Luna of the Menae. Not only are we the Menae, WE are the Maven and WE are the Healers.” I hold the sword steady and stare her down, letting my energy build. My voice grows louder until it booms in my goddess tone. “WE are the Sentinel. WE are the Wild. And you better fucking believe WE are the Dark.”

Not like lightning. Quietly. Like a lock turning. She knew exactly what she wanted to paint. The canvas grew quickly after that. A field appeared first. Golden. Endless. The farm. Then the oak tree. Strong. Ancient. Unmoving. Beneath it stood a little girl. Jessica at eight years old. Holding a flower crown. Looking toward the horizon. Then something new. Something she'd never painted before. A second figure stood further ahead. Older. Walking away from the tree.

He wiped me down with clumsy care, taught himself to cook plain porridge, and slept on a narrow folding chair by my bed every night, fully dressed, just to be near. The day I was discharged, sunlight bathed the seaside town in gold. Nathan pushed my wheelchair, a cashmere blanket he had bought draped over me. Six months later, he rented the only art gallery in town and sponsored my very first solo exhibition. He named it 'Rebirth'. The bright, spacious hall was filled with the work I had poured my soul into for half a year. Storm-dark seas before a tempest. Iridescent light shimmering on rocks after rain. A daisy blooming toward the sun from a bookstore window.

The look in his eyes was focused and reverent, as though he was restoring a priceless work of art. "Madie, this pigment contains herbs from my research team to help your skin heal. Well? Do you like it?" Across my back, a phoenix traced in shimmering gold pigment spread its wings, looking utterly alive and magnificent. I silently admired that piece of art. Unlike the designs across my skin meant for the anthropodermic fan, this was something I'd chosen on my own. Elliott gently clasped a necklace around my neck. It was made of the finest pink diamonds.

“ Hypno zone: infinite cube!” A cube the size of a football field materialised around them. “That’s more like it.” Míriel grinned, a green flame covering her hands. “Show me!” Azea raised her hands. “Infinite cube: Copy!” hundreds of Míriels appeared rushing at her. “Interesting. A domain” You mimicked my current form and made more to attack me.” Míriel raised her hand. “Then, how about this?” “Demon flame art: Purga!”

The type for a special meeting, and not for a special kill. I sat on a long bench facing a huge painting on the wall. A tray of cinnamon tea was set beside me. I distracted myself from the woman that would soon be present in this room in a minute by staring into the huge painting on the wall—an oil on canvas piece of art. It illustrated dark romanticism. Blood moonlight and a roaring fire ignite the mouth of a cave. A narrow, rocky bridge stretches across a gorge, illustrating a perilous crossing while light pours from a fiery cave opening on the right. In the background, a soft glow of crimson moonlight contrasts with the fiery light, enhancing the dark apocalyptic atmosphere. On that narro

This woman was different. The gorgeous woman may have had the same beautiful almond skin and curves in all the right places that the Shit Witch portrays but this was different. This beauty has red streaks in her hair and hypnotic blue eyes. I feel like I know her, yet I know I’ve never seen a creature so captivating. I’m glad I’m alone here because as I reached out to touch the mirror painting, the only song I could think of started playing like I’m in an elevator. I would never live this down if someone heard a Disney song playing in my head. August would taunt me to no end.

One time her son Kevin told her she looked beautiful, like the female character Art3mis from the Ready Player One film. President Chang loved the way she looked, and she wasn’t ashamed of looking like a female, hip-hop, cyberpunk, rockstar, video game avatar, with tattoos on her arms. President Chang was number one on the Rolling Stones’ top ten coolest influential presidents list, and former President Barack Obama was number two on the list.