Naruto Paint Novels & Stories

Several cans of paint are lined up carefully nearby, and my fingers itch to dive in. I walk over, kneeling beside the paints, lifting a few cans, checking the labels and colors. I start mentally mapping out what I need first, what base color will bring Piper’s vision to life. My whole world narrows down to colors, brushes, and the way the mural is already forming in my mind’s eye. Marcel’s voice breaks through my focus. "We’ll go get something to drink while you start," he says warmly. "Thanks," I murmur, barely looking up, already absorbed in the task before me.

Nakatuon lang ngayon ang atensyon niya sa isang bagay at yun ay ang hanapin ang booth kung nasaan nakalagay ang painting niya. Hindi siya ganun kagaling mag-pinta pero seryoso naman siya sa pagbuhos ng lahat ng nararamdaman niya roon. Simple lang ang kaniyang ginawa, isa iyong abstract painting na may madilim at malamig na kulay na kung iintindihing mabuti ay makikita mo ang tulay sa gitna ng ulan na kung saan makikita ang isang hugis ng tao habang may hawak ito ng itim na payong.

I walk back to my work table and pick up my palette of paint, each shade an attempt to capture the ribbons of gold and platinum that haunt my dreams. A sketch of Layla–naked and looking over her shoulder–fans out before me as I lift my brush to the canvas.

The confident, untouchable star athlete who had charmed the entire campus… powerless against the fortress she had built around herself. Back in her room that night, Nora set up a new canvas. This painting would not be delicate or forgiving. This painting would not be beauty for the sake of admiration. It would be fire, anger, pain, and defiance poured into color and shape. Crimson streaks of rage bled across the canvas. Black swirls of hurt twisted into sharp shapes. Gold highlights burned like hope she refused to allow herself to feel.

Then I pulled him down to the floor. Afterward we lay on the protective sheeting with the half painted walls around us and the paint drying on our skin and the morning having moved past noon without either of us noticing, and Nate was drawing slow, absentminded shapes on my arm with one finger, and I was looking at the ceiling and thinking that this was the most peaceful I had felt in months. Maybe longer. "Blue and pink," he said. "What?" "The walls." He looked up at them. "We should do both. Not separate walls. Mixed somehow. Both colors." A pause. "For either."

Minutes fly by, maybe even more, I have no idea. But I don't stop until my wrists ache and paint manages to make its way into the beds of my fingernails. Stepping back once more, I take in the changes I’ve made. The blue has softened the intensity of the black and purple, creating some semblance of balance. The chaos I'd originally intended to portray burns bright, mixing not only with the blue strokes but also the light pink and yellow highlights pointing towards the edge of the canvas.

He said out loud instead. “Yes.” Nova clapped excitedly, throwing her hand around his waist to hug him. “You like it?” “Yes baby, I love it.” He said, gently stroking her hair as he stared at the painting. The way the young woman had mixed colors to get this shade of neon was just intelligent. Well, he should not be so amazed. Ciaran only admitted geniuses, no matter how much money their guardians owned. “It’s Blind Tonto Drawing.” “What?” He turned to look down at Nova.

It was pure admiration. “Hey girl, are you doubting my motor knowledge?” Lara pouted with displeasure. Dana poked her tongue at Lara and sat back and spotted the painting on the roof “Wow!” Her eyes sparkled. The tone was grey and black. The painting was also shades of grey with the occasional red flower. This was in line with Ben’s taste. “Let me show you the real beauty of the serenity series.” Lara excitedly pulled her phone and swapped through the pictures while Dana asked innocently “What’s serenity series?”

Adam sits amidst the lush greenery, his expression serene yet thoughtful. As I paint, I find myself lost in the process, the world around me fading into the background. Each stroke of the brush feels like a step towards understanding, the transition between past and present. The colors blend and merge, creating a vivid tapestry that captures not just Adam's likeness, but the essence of our shared history.

I pull out my paints and started. I dipped my brush in blue, because I thought he will be here to comfort me. Black, because he does not come. Red, because I'm angry, very angry. The paint forms an orb. A deep orb with black, blue and red swirling around it. I can feel myself feeling better because of the sight of it. I dipped my brush for another color, and another, and another. It seems to me that the more I add bright colors, the more I feel better.