Narnia Dawn Treader Painting Novels & Stories

When the crowd was about to fall into chaos, a disciple stepped forth and said with a cough, "Everyone, relax. This subject is not about its literal meaning. It's about four dreamlands. Even if you can't do zither, chess, calligraphy, or painting, you may be able to do them in dreamlands. Everyone gets to choose a dreamland. Let this round begin now." After finishing his words, he waved his arm backward as the clouds and fog dispersed, revealing four caves. Each cave was covered by a formation. A Jade Zither was on the first curtain; a chess board was on the second; a calligraphy paper was on the third, and a magnificent landscape painting was on the forth. In this painting, numerous mountai

Each one just seems to out preform the last. This piece in particular is taken from human inspiration. They have something called Greek gods and goddesses, though they just remind me of faeries. Still, this is a pastel color painting that I hope depicts something like a dream where these angelic beings are sitting somewhere on clouds far away from our perception. “I’m going to list it for five grand,” I say and hold my breath as I wait for Arthur’s reaction. “Go for seven.” He says as if that’s even a possibility.

He answered with a hint of amusement. Kara stared in wonder at the painting. It was her standing under the small waterfall, it showed no discerning features, but it was one again so well painted that it looked like a photograph. Her back was on full display, showing the ripples of her muscles, along with the slightly pointed ears he had added to the other. The swell of her hips was soon swallowed into the water and she was once again amazed at his talent. “This is called ‘Water Nymph’.” He answered her silent appraisal. “And it is one of the last ones I need to wrap up before we leave, because I wanted to warn you that it would be in the exhibition and what you could expect.”

Aria’s POV The brushes moved gracefully between my fingers as I studied the final touches on the canvas before me. The painting had evolved into something I hadn’t initially envisioned—a lighthouse standing tall and steadfast, surrounded by a mesmerizing swirl of colors that seemed to represent the changing seasons. Spring’s vibrant greens melted into summer’s golden warmth, which blended into autumn’s fiery hues before softening into winter’s cool blues and whites. The scene was stylized and whimsical, the waves and skies swirling together like a dreamscape.

Holly took the painting over from the table by the side and carefully opened it. Hunter's gaze lit up as his eyes followed the unfolding of the painting. He stood up and bent over the painting, gently touching the mountain with the slide of his fingers. He muttered, "It's this feeling… This feeling… "This towering mountain, this cascading waterfall, this lush forest, this caravan, these horses—they were painted so wonderfully!" Hunter's eyes slowly became moist as he looked at the painting.

I added a yellow circle in the corner to make it official. We painted for a long time, and it was nice. Quiet but not too quiet. The other kids talked and laughed, but it wasn't overwhelming. It was just... normal. Like how things were supposed to be. I was working on my third painting—this one was definitely dinosaurs—when I heard footsteps on the stairs. My whole body went tense, my heart speeding up, because what if Mama was awake and looking for me and got scared that I wasn't there? But it was just Uncle Troy and Uncle Rhodes. They looked tired, but Uncle Troy was holding Uncle Rhodes's hand, and they were both smiling a little bit.

Something silly. We gathered brushes, colors, and blank canvases, and sat beneath the blooming arbor in the garden. The grass was cool beneath our feet, the sky vast and clear above. Birds chirped, and the scent of fresh earth and lavender swirled in the air. I painted a crown. Not just any crown, but the one I had seen resting upon Zevarion’s head when he was a god. My brushstrokes were clumsy, uneven, but it didn’t matter. There was love in every color, meaning in every line.

“Your mom drew this. It was her inspiration for your nursery. She said she never got to have someone come in and finish the mural because you were born two weeks early.” Zara takes the book from his hand and looks at the image. It looks eerily like the old nursery, but instead of dark walls, there are gemstones and crystals stacked up like buildings with stars against a night sky. It doesn’t look drab or macabre in any way. Tyree looks at his watch. “Are you ready to meet Bianca? She should be done with class any second.” On cue, a voice calls him from upstairs. “DAD! Are they here?!”

At the last piece, Trey turned and started back toward the artist with me on his heels. The painting he selected featured a beach in the foreground with tall grass to the right and a few reeds blowing in the breeze. Rudimentary waves crash on the shore with a cloudless sky and a blue green ocean acting as a background. It was a simple piece for the $10 asking price, but Trey's expression took on the look of someone who'd walked away with the Mona Lisa. "Are you packing this blanket?" Elena snaps out the dark blue Mexican style blanket from the floor where it fell between our two beds during the night.

Blue curtains shifted lazily near the window, dancing with the artificial breeze. On the floor, a tapestry lay partially folded, the design showing a lion rising from a cracked stone table—a scene from Narnia. Molly put it here weeks ago, saying it reminded her of the power of hope, of resurrection, of coming back from the impossible. The cross on the wall above the bed caught the sunlight, casting a pale reflection against the sheets. It had been there when I arrived, and sometimes, I wondered how many prayers it had witnessed in this room before mine.