Paintbrush X Lightbulb Novels & Stories

“Just old Mrs. Gable at the register. Why?” Ryder didn’t answer. He carried the box to the rough-hewn table and carefully pried open the lid with his knife. Inside, nestled in pristine foam, were tubes of paint and a set of beautiful sable brushes. They looked perfect. Ryder picked up a tube of titanium white. He sniffed it, then squeezed a tiny bead onto the blade of his knife. He brought it close to his face, his eyes narrowing.

“I mean… second time in two days. Same city, same me. The odds are statistically suspicious.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “It’s a small island.” “New York? Small?” I laughed. “You’re joking.” He didn’t smile, but something in his eyes softened. Just a fraction. I tilted my head toward the paintings. “What do you think of these?” He glanced at the canvases like he was seeing them for the first time. “They’re loud.” “Loud,” I repeated, grinning. “That’s a good word for it. I think they’re screaming.”

As Mr. Lawson and Jenny chatted away, Morgan watched and listened silently. Although she couldn't join the conversation, she wasn't upset at all. Soon, the clerk returned to them with the item Mr. Lawson had asked for and handed it to Jenny. "This is the premium paintbrush that just arrived. Mr. Faust likes this one the most," Mr. Lawson said with a smile. Jenny nodded as she inspected it. Based on her understanding of Old Mr. Faust, things pertaining to art, such as paintbrushes and canvas, had a special place in his heart.

She frowned like a puppy who scolded by her owner. "Buy the Eyebrow Trio instead. It will be a big bang for your buck though it doesn't include a spoolie brush. I'm sure you already have sets of brushes. Next is their Starlight Eyes in Lynx and Cassiopeia. I'll tell you girl those are the bomb! They are the dupes for Stila Glitter and Glow Eyeshadow and Pixi glitter eyeshadow, though their applicator is not great. Lastly, I know how much you love Highlighters so go get the Stardust Palette"

Let her have the good brushes. Later, after she’d fallen asleep, I sat in the rigid chair by her bed, my phone glowing in the dark. I pulled up the art supplier’s website Luther had named. I found the set professional grade sable brushes in a polished wooden case. The price made my stomach clench. It was more than my weekly food budget.

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.

Bella’s Pov I gently dipped my thin paint brush into the orange and brought it up to the sunset I had created. I gently made light strokes so that the sky looked perfect and the color was just right. “You are making me look bad.” Lucas mumbled forcing my eyes back towards his drawing that looked like a colorful potato. Compared to Lucas’s painting mine was a masterpiece that could make millions. I looked over at him and a small giggle left my lips as I looked at all the paint that he got all over himself.

Edible? “Why in the nine hells would you require edible paint?” He grimaced, pulling out a handful more. They were all edible pigments—at least twenty distinct hues. His eyes shifted to the brushes, and then the realization hit him like a physical blow to the chest. My surprise. I had requested he return on time because I had a plan for us. “Fuck,” he breathed, dropping the canisters back into the box. I had bought these to experiment with him, and his tardiness had ruined the moment. No wonder I was ice cold.

Paintbrushes of various sizes, their bristles like delicate feathers, stood tall in jars filled with water. Tubes of paint, vibrant and inviting, lay scattered in organized chaos. Pencils of all shades and hardness, waiting to leave their mark on canvas, beckoned me to take them in my hand. And there, in the center of it all, rested pristine white canvases, their surfaces smooth and unblemished, like promises of boundless creativity

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.