Mysterious Paintings Manga Novels & Stories

My languid wandering around the house led me to another room, and this one was similar to the room where I saw those ancient languages, whose name I had forgotten what Muzan called it. In this room, there were more pictures than words. Most of them were in good condition also, so, cleaning wasn’t difficult. Each painting I dusted, I also took my time to admire. One was a king. Well painted, but not really in the style of the other painter. “Some hell of a collector this guy is, huh,” I snorted to myself as I went through the paintings. I cleaned and admired the painting of the skies, trees, and hills. One was a village market square, which looked nice, with children playing happily in the ba

Mysterious said and Ramon gasped. " Fine but who are you walking for? " Ramon asked confusily and mysterious smirked. " I don't work for anyone, I am a loner and I am always curious to know what is in that scroll for ten good years, Thanks for giving me the real one and besides you can have the replica of the scroll " Mysterious said holding the scroll, Ramon had given him the scroll and he left and Ramon sighed deeply while staring at the replica.

As we walk in, an envelope falls from a brunette’s carelessly-zipped backpack and I help her pick it up before she can walk past it. “Thank you.” She beams brightly at me. I don’t bother to answer. I’m not here to make friends, and won’t engage with anyone to the extent of developing attachments. I finally walk into a wide fancy hall way, and I let my eyes roam. Beautiful paintings line the wall. Most of them are eerie. A big black wolf. A high castle surrounded by butterflies. Snakes curled around black flowers. And a dragon painting. A chilling tingle creeps up my arm, traveling to my spine as I access the dragon painting specifically. It’s…big.

They also brighten up the hair and the lips and really compliment the rest of her face. By then she excitedly began to chatter exuberantly about her collection. "I got excited because the painting behind you was made by Death. A mysterious artist who paints crime arts. And that painting ..." Sumire pointed at the painting behind the young man. She was still sitting on his lap while her left hand was resting on the man's chest and her right hand was pointing at the painting. Mr. Aslanov was leaned against on the backrest of the swivel chair and he tightened his grip on the maiden's waist so that she may not fall over on the side when she recklessly moved on top of him. "... is called the "Vul

The closer we got to the stone bridge outside of the luminescent castle, the stranger they seemed to get. One tent was selling artwork, incredible paintings that seemed to nearly leap from the page. At second glance, I realized the paintings were moving. A tiger crouched at the edge of a water bank, its thick paws stepping on smooth stone as it readied to pounce at the viewer. Another tent offered tattoos. The tent with the tattoo’s was a little strange, but what made it odd was how the tattoo artist was currently weaving magic into the inks. His lips moved rapidly, and I could hear the dull hum that surrounded him. “That’s not possible.” My voice came out quiet.

"Want to come in?" I nod as he steps aside for me to enter, using my back to close the door. Like I suspected, we're the only ones in the room. Tom too, is not in. Why that gives me a weird feeling in the stomach, I can't say. There's a paint canvas at a corner of the room with a painting on it. Walking closer, I realize the painting is a picture of a Yellow Unicorn. Such strange color for that kind of animal. "Who did this?" I ask Noah.

The room was small with books taking up most of the spaces, leaving a very small space for people to sit. Red mask went to the seat behind the table and nodded for us to seat opposite him. Reluctantly, Craig pulled me to the seat beside him. Yet, I couldn’t help but stare at the strange pictures all over the room. There were like thousands of books that I was sure no one would be able to read to finish, no matter how many minutes they spent reading each day. “Where’s the mark?” he said without preamble. He seemed not to be interested in any other thing than the mark.

They're amazed by the paintings on display, and they spend hours browsing the artwork and chatting with the gallery owner. As they explore the gallery, they're both captivated by the abstract paintings. They find themselves drawn to the vibrant colors and bold brushstrokes. One painting in particular catches their eye - it's a swirling, colorful canvas that seems to shift and change as they look at it. They both agree that it's unlike anything they've ever seen before.

I never knew of a secret treasure my family supposedly had. Looking up at the painting, I still cannot understand what all the fuss is about. The painting is the second in the series of oil paintings called the guild of the guardians. It features three old men sitting around a table, smoking cigars. They look fat and bored with their lives. It is not a particularly pretty picture, and the colours are dull and lifeless. There is no X marks the spot to indicate a treasure. There really is nothing significant about this painting. It is ordinary in every sense of the word. I run my fingers softly over the brush strokes, feeling the fine ridges made by the brush. At least it is an original. I pic

The guards seemed to have left too. My eyebrows furrowed and I looked both ways. The corridor was a long stretch with large paintings along the way. At first sight, they seemed to depict landscapes but on a closer look, there were several hidden features. The longer you gazed at them, the more cryptic the messages became. Out of the paintings, a large painting of a peculiar waterfall caught my attention. The strokes were drawn in such a way that the water seemed to be going upwards. After looking at the paintings for some more time, my head became fuzzy.