My Little Artinya Novels & Stories

Anita's business success allowed her to support herself and little Mack comfortably. One day, as Anita sat in her gallery, little Mack tugged at her skirt, his eyes filled with curiosity. "Mommy, can I paint too?" Mack asked, Anita smiled down at her son. "Of course, my love! Let's get you some paint and a canvas, and you can create your own masterpiece." Anita said, Little Mack's eyes sparkled with excitement as Anita handed him a small easel and a set of bright colored paints. The gallery became their shared sanctuary of creativity, where mother and son spent countless hours painting side by side.

As her brush glided across the surface, she felt a surge of pride, knowing that her artwork would forever bear her mark—a symbol of the time, effort, and love she had poured into its creation. Stepping back to admire her work one last time, Ayana felt a smile spread across her face. The portrait of Adam stood before her, a testament to their friendship and the profound impact he had had on her life. It was more than just a painting—it was a reflection of the bond they shared, a celebration of the beauty and depth of their connection.

Aryan asked before they got back into the car. "Of course, let's go. I'm curious too," Laura replied, placing her hand on Aryan's waist. Within 10 minutes, their car was parked in front of the art gallery Aryan mentioned. With enthusiasm, Aryan and Laura chose several models and sizes of ceramic crafts, each with unique shapes and carvings. This might have been Laura's first time visiting this city, but for Aryan, it was his umpteenth visit. Back when he lived in Kediri, Aryan and his family often vacationed here and spent several days exploring the attractions in Malang City during Andra's school holidays, his older brother.

"Huh? Sa tatay mo ba?" Biglang natahimik si Jin. Tatay? Sino nga ba ang ama niya? "Huwag mong sasabihin sa akin sa tatay mo nga... di kasi bagay ang design para sa isang lalaki eh." Pinagpatuloy ni Jin ang kanyang ginagawa...ngunit gumugulo sa isipan niya kung sino ba talaga ang tatay niya. Balak ni Jin ibigay ang Art work niya kay I-Yoko. Kaya taos-puso niyang tinatapos ang Artwork.

I muttered “Ah Indie is an artist in case you didn’t guess” Lilah called in from the lounge “ every spare space is covered with paints or canvases. One of the reasons she wanted her own space” I glanced at the artwork before I turned off the light, her work was amazing, a real mixture of portraits, pop art styles, and a few landscape thrown in.

Kaya muli Kong binalingan ang painting. "Papa didn't buy that Thea, Mama painted it herself." narinig ko ang mga yapak nito sa likod ko. Namilog ang mga mata ko sa narinig. I know Mama loves to paint but I didn't know she painted this. Actually, Sa kanya ko nakuha ang talento sa pagpipinta, but for me, Mama is even better and no one can beat her. I noticed a small footprint printed on the lower edge of it, as if it wasn’t meant to land there.

he says in a sad voice, I get what he means if this place wasn't kink-friendly we'll all have to hide a big part of ourselves behind closed doors. I once read a story, it's called littles academy, a world where everyone is either sub or dom, and littles are regular and real things, I loved that book and the author is awesome. But sadly outside of this company walls showing my little self would be a big mistake people would judge and talk badly about you.

More tiny hands shot forward—offering wilted flowers, cracked acorns, a button shaped like a star, even a small piece of honeycomb that immediately got stuck to Sari’s fur. Joha was gifted a drawing of what might’ve been him punching a shadow monster. He held it up proudly to all four of us. “Look at my jawline.” Aya snorted. “That’s your ear, young master.” “Art is subjective.” Joha mused as he rolled his eyes. I got a feather. A really fluffy one! “For floating,” a small girl whispered to me, eyes wide. “You are like a baby cloud.” I hugged it close to my chest like it was treasure.

I demanded trying to snatch it out of his hand. "Roses are red, violets are blue, this is a cow, moo moo," he read aloud before pointing to a rather detailed drawing of a cow. "Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are. But then I remember it's none of my business and fuck off. What is this Ella?" "I get bored in Art sometimes," I explained staring at the white piece of paper with half a dozen stupid little poems and illustrations scribbled on it. "Now can I have it?"

She nods and walks away. Being left alone in that room, I take a seat on one of the benches. My eyes wander around before they return to the painting in front of me. A little boy runs through the woods, leaving a dark path behind. He is barefoot and possibly being chased. I blink twice when my eyes begin to get uncomfortable, due to not blinking for a short moment. 'Who is the artist?' I rise to my feet and draw closer to the art piece. "Little M," I mumble to myself.