Pigtails In Paint Novels & Stories

My limbs hurt a bit, but I was convinced that it will all be worth it after a few months. I stared at a blank canvas which sat on an easel at the far corner of the room. The gift that Adrian gifted to me flashed in my mind. I grabbed my bag and drew the easel closer to me. I took out the half-moon pigment stone. I dipped my finger in water and swiped it. A bit of the glittery paint was imprinted on my wet finger. To have the best result from using it, I needed to grind it to powder and mix with water to make a paste for painting.

Nodding, Grandma stated, "Each extra painting is worth five million dollars." The balding man waved at her dismissively. "Money is not a problem." After that, the man rattled off a series of requests, and Grandma painted four paintings for him. This was her first time creating this many paintings at the same time. In my eyes, they all looked the same except for their expressions and some minute details. However, Beth was keenly observing the paintings from the side as if she knew a lot about it. Sometimes, she would discuss it with Grandma.

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.

Due to the materials, our artwork was assembled quickly, but attaching the peacock's tail required meticulous care, demanding utmost precision. However, Atlas worked fast and well. We had a vivid painting of a peony and a peacock in no time. The most amusing part was when we were making the peacock's body. In the absence of textured materials, he removed his new insoles and cut them into shapes resembling a peacock's body and wing. He painted them in peacock blue, even adding feather-like patterns. The result was astounding. When we attached the peacock's tail, it protruded beyond the frame, resembling two real peacocks landing on the artwork. Our creation was impressive.

The two classes I skipped were with him, so I hadn't seen him all day. After school, I went to paint with others, and they actually enjoyed the stuff we got at the mall. One used glitter to make a snow sparkle, another placed small gems, instead of painting them and made it look crazy realistic. Some electric colors that I bought made Daphne's northern lights look just amazing. I was glad about my purchase, and it gained me some respect from others in the project.

"They disappeared together the minute we entered the store. He's nothing if not persistent. He's trying too hard." I sigh. "Well I suppose you two will have to suffice. I want three buckets of this color," I say, picking a fresh swatch from the color choices. "Deep purple, I suppose it could be worse." Kyle notes. "But if you are painting the whole room you're gonna need double the amount of paint. It will take several layers." "Nope," I disagree. "This will do. I'm only painting half the room. The bottom panels will remain white."

She stayed there until morning, she would just sit there until hours would pass but now she found paint under the piled papers. She saw her favorite color, the blood red, and black. She opened it and looked around. Who would know if she paints the walls? The dirty white walls looked too old and rusty. She found a brush and set it up all before starting painting. She dipped half of the brush into the red paint and dipped the other half into the black paint. She brushed the paint into the wall carelessly. She did lines crosswise and created a pattern of red and black. On that mess, she took a thin stick and dipped it into the black paint. Then she started creating outlines of the eyelashes of

Velvetouch, maybe even a Kolinsky or two. The paint? Golden Fluid Acrylics. Not all of them, but enough. The essentials. Crimson. Indigo. Antique gold. Obsidian black. The kind of colors that made your heart race just imagining what they’d look like on canvas. The glass palette had fingerprints on it… like someone had tested it out, just to make sure it was perfect. I stepped closer. My knees were weak. My chest, tightening. It was everything I loved. Everything I couldn’t afford.

To channel the whirlwind inside. My small studio space was a comforting mess of canvases, brushes, and tubes of paint. I didn’t plan. I just moved. I stretched a fresh, large canvas onto the easel. I squeezed paints directly onto the palette, not just violet, but deep cobalt, fiery cadmium red, streaks of gold, earthy ochre. The colors of the storm painting. The colors of him. Of us.

The small touch sends a quiet spark up my leg. Afternoon arrives with soft rain. It taps against the windows like impatient fingers. We move to the studio corner. The paint fumes grow stronger as we set up our easels. I dip my brush into a deep cobalt blue. The bristles swish across the canvas. Tiny flecks of paint splatter across my knuckles. Colors explode against the stark white surface. Hailey sketches beside me. Her pencil scratches in quick, confident strokes. We talk easily. Her voice flows like warm honey.