Painter Of The Night Chapter 1 Novels & Stories

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 1 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑎 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑠ℎ...𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒, 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑛~~𝑖𝑣𝑦𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠 Sophia

Chapter 23: Permission A peaceful night was spent in her room, she was painting, a bloody red paint was dripping down on her illustration board, it was a bloody red rose while the red paint was dripping in uneven length, it was light enough not to drop to the bottom, it was just enough to show that it was dripping like blood from each petal. She had her headphone so her attention was fixed on her painting. But something lighted up beside her and found her, she saw a notification. She cringe her forehead when it was a message.

Jax said. “We’re going to take it apart with the truth.” “I know,” he said. “I’ve been watching you do it.” Outside, the city moved through its evening. The wards hummed clean and uncompromised. The first day of the new phase was almost done. Nova let herself rest.  [End of Chapter 10]

I pause and look out into the horizon. “Who are you?” I whisper into the night. There’s no answer. Only the pull of the tide. In. Out. In. Out. Like breathing. Like waiting. I return to the cabin just before midnight. The windows glow warm. I leave the painting turned against the wall. I can’t look at it again tonight. I slip into bed, still in my long dress. The sheets are cool against my skin. I close my eyes. I try to think of nothing.

All the papers inside scattered to a distant place where there is no light. I could hear her scoff, “You really thought you could reach your dreams?” She said mockingly. I ran after the papers into a cloud of fog trying to grab them. All the papers soon disappeared into thin air and a silhouette of a man stood before me. He is tall, his hands are shoved into his pocket. I walked slowly to him half expecting who he might be. He raised his hand, a paint brush moving between his long fingers. It’s him. He is here. The tip of the brush got a red paint with which he was painting something on the wall. I moved my eyes from black fabric, sleeves rolled at his elbow to the wall. He is painting himse

Why is your drawing room so bright? He opened his eyes wide, a thought suddenly popped into his head. Peter strode quickly to the drawing room, standing outside looking in, Mia still hadn't come home. He didn't say a word, and gently walked inside, the woman was still looking at the picture of herself, dumbfounded, not knowing he was entering. All paintings are drawn by him with a pencil, even though there are only two colors, the characters still appear in the picture, and they are still very vivid.

Zee's POV "There was a hand upon the chains that were self-inflicted upon Him— The Little Prince, O Great Morning Star— And He looked up— And saw the face of a little brother most mischievous And despair He did no longer." ~The Book of Lost Days Lilith 3:1

He got into his room and he dropped the papers on the bed, he ran his hand in frustration. He was mad, he was mad he couldn't do anything about what was going on. He was mad he hurt her so much, he hurt his Lilyana. He suddenly turned to the mirror and punched it hard, it shattered and hurt his hand. He breathed out heavily and sat on his bed, he stared at his bloody hands and wondered how it all went wrong in a night. ********* THE NIGHT OF THE BALL Axel stared at Lily with a smile on his face as they both danced, she laughed and held his hands happily.

I tried to shake off all the weird but funny feelings that approached me by trying so hard to concentrate on scribbling rather than sticking my eyes to the refrigerator. I was startled as I became oblivious to literarily everything. I could no longer see the pencil which I was holding in my hands. The name I scribbled vanished, and so did every other thing in the store. The only thing in the store with me was the chair I was sitting on, the counter and the refrigerator. My brows furrowed and my heartbeat quickened. It seemed as if something wanted me to keep watching the refrigerator, and that was why I couldn't see any other thing apart from it.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city glittered like fallen stars, a thousand lives being lived while mine finally, finally began. I didn't know his real name. Didn't know anything about him except the way he touched me like I was precious and disposable all at once, like he understood exactly what I needed—to be seen, wanted, chosen for one perfect night. Tomorrow, I would belong to Richard Pemberton III. But tonight, I belonged to the stranger in the shadows, the man who made me feel alive for the first time in my carefully controlled life. Tonight, I belonged to L. And God help me, I never wanted this night to end.