Paintbrush X Lightbulb Novels & Stories

"I must be saying that a lot mustn't I?" I rush to the primed canvas and run my hands on its surface. I notice the paint brushes and run towards them. I feel the bristles, some are synthetic while others are natural. The paints smile at me in order. Oils, acrylics, gouache.... Oh may God.... "What is this place?" I whisper more to myself than to Ric. I do a spin and it feels like I'm in heaven. I turn to him and he's standing right in front of me. "What is this?"

Soon all the balloons were done. Steve stood back and admired the picture and sighed regretfully “I wish we hadn’t agreed to let you have the painting.” Ben smiled smugly. “Now for the finishing touch.” Dana smiled and dipped one of the wide brushes in a palette. The palette had three colors on it… red, yellow and purple which were a bit watery. She walked closer to the canvas and stopped when she was a meter away. She shook the paint from the brush on to the canvas. “Come …join… there are brushes there that I have prepared.”

I got pencils, erasers, sharpners, rulers, makers, colored pencils, canvas sheets, canvas pads, some scissors, oil paints , glue, glitter, oil paints and some water colors. I grabbed one of each type of brush that they had, along with two bowls to put water in. I also picked up an apron like smock and threw it in the cart. Hm. I think that's it. Running down the mental list in my head. I checked off everything that I already had, Alexander grabbed the easel from the front of the store and Alexander paid for everything, before we walked out of the store, towards the truck. We piled everything into the truck, before climbing in and pulling off.

He placed a gallon of paint on the counter. "Navy Blue," the man said. "Satin finish." "Good choice. For a bathroom?" "For a bedroom. It induces REM sleep." "Right. Anything else?" "I require a brush. High bristle count. Natural fiber. Synthetic leaves streaks." "Aisle 4." The man went to Aisle 4. He came back with a brush. He inspected it closely. "This ferrule is loose," the man said. "It will compromise the stroke precision." "It's a five-dollar brush, buddy. It puts paint on the wall."

His snigger filled the air as we all started ambling. RINA I briefly pressed a wet brush on paper before spreading out the moisture over a specific sketch. I got my selected pigment —a mix of forest green and sunset yellow—and worked it in, curious to know the outcome. Unfortunately, it wasn't as bad as I'd hoped. They said a painting clearly depicted the mental state of its painter. Bullshit, I said. Utterly and totally wrong. No matter how much I gave myself away to my thoughts or listened to the depressing lyrics contained in my playlist, I couldn't send the message across. By my side was the proof of my inability: balled up sketches and three pencils decorated with bite marks.

*Lexie’s POV* The heavy scent of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the bustling studio as I stand back to examine my latest painting. The vivid colors swirl together on the canvas, a visual representation of the turmoil inside me. My eyes squint, trying to find the balance between chaos and harmony within my artwork. I feel a sense of pride in my work, but it's overshadowed by the knowledge of my recent setbacks.

She turned on the television and walked herself straight to the kitchen to grab herself some biscuits and a bottle of coke. When she sat on a dining chair, she noticed the new set of school notebooks and intermediate pads that were still covered in a thick layer of plastics and a box that contained the set of art materials such as the colored pencils, oil pastel crayons, watercolor paint set, a paintbrush and two pieces of sketchbooks. Her eyes widened when she laid sight on the art materials that she laid her hands on those. First, she touched the colored pencils that had the brand name of Crayola; it had a count of 12 colors - Red, Red Orange, Orange, Yellow, Yellow Green, Green, Sky Blue,

I tell her. “Well, I thought we could make the lights for them. I know the twins’ favorite colors and we could use that as the focus.” “It’s a lot of space, Maeve. Do you think you and your sister can handle all of that by yourselves.” “You haven’t seen them make their lights. It’s really awesome, Cohen. They make one large ball of light, add color, then ‘ping’, they touch it and it magically turns into a bunch of small lights.” “You know the sprites are going to want to keep them, right?” I ask.