Rainbow High Artwork Novels & Stories

The pie-shaped sections of her umbrella alternated pink, purple and gray. “Nice day, huh?” she said, smiling. She looked up at the rain bouncing off and sluicing over the edges of the invisible barrier above Leesa and Rave’s heads. “That’s pretty cool, Leesa. If you can figure out a way to add some bright colors to that thing, you might have a winner.”

I give Raven an arch look. “I swear, precious, I didn't mean to add to your fame.” I believe him. I move to look at his other piece, “Muse”. It's an elaborate, rich portrait of a red-haired girl with giant, secretive eyes and lush red curls. She is surrounded by hundreds of blue wildflowers. He must have worked nights just to achieve the level of detail in the background. He comes up to me as I'm contemplating it. “Who is she?” I ask, wondering if it's just a model or if there's more there.

It was full of overlapping unearthly figures. I bobbed my head. "Game," I said after I assessed. "The blue one is Isla's. Rhyme designed the gray one. The red and black were painted by Boston. The pink and yellow was owned by Thunder," I guessed. "Yuck!" Thunder immediately reacted. "I'm not that weird to paint such colors! I'm not the cheesy one who will choose your favorite colors..." Thunder was not able to finish what she was about to say when Rhyme faked a cough.

Her icy eyes darkened and she subconsciously licked her lips. “She definitely looks like she likes what she sees,” purred Storm in my head, salivating over Raina in her tight red work out gear. We both agreed red was her color. Or light blue to match her eyes. Honestly, she’d look good in any color or style of clothing. She could be wrapped in a garbage bag and I’d still want to tear it off her.

Montoya had never seen the most craziest goth designs. She didnt know he was the one who painted the snowy landscape, all his life, it had been goth. About fifty percent of my gallery paintings were ones he did himself, only he liked to keep it a secret even though he did put my initials in the lower right corner. The rest of his gallery's art is from artists he had found from his travels who had agreed to let him sell some of their work. he loved scouting out new talent.this was the new, new Cain. he walked up to her and smiled. “Oh yes, that one is lovely. The price is four hundred and fifty dollars.”

The blurry distorted swirling colors of a rainbow were all I could see until it slowly faded away into the foyer of Terrius's summer mansion. (Song: Is It True by Tame Impala) ------------------------------------------------------------------------

Noir was speechless. Had he become a mascot of some sort? Unfortunately, he dared not and was not in a position to deny his superior’s request. With that, he allowed Rainbow to instruct him to pose for multiple pictures. Rainbow took so many pictures to the point that even she felt embarrassed. Noir went back to his duties with Marcus while Andrius brought Rainbow to her school. On the way there, Rainbow went through the pictures she took with Noir and somehow teared up. “What’s wrong, Rainbow?” Andrius asked.

I smile again. I put my phone down, and began typing up my detailed plans. I’m changing that nasty grey color to green. Warm. Inviting. Royal Orchard, Bitter Sage, and Green Balsam. I even put down the name of the paint company and listed trusted painters from the company to do the job. Although, I’d probably help them out too. After all the plans have been typed out, I only placed “a delicate surprise” as to where I’m getting the artwork from. I don’t want him to know that I’ve already contacted the art department of a local university to help display their students work. I’m just waiting on an email with the images to sort through the potential artwork ranging from paintings and sculptures

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.

"Take this pink ribbon off my eyes I'm exposed And it's no big surprise Don't you think I know Exactly where I stand This world is forcing me To hold your hand 'Cause I'm just a girl, little ol' me Well don't let me out of your sight Oh, I'm just a girl, all pretty and petite So don't let me have any rights Oh, I've had it up to here!" I paint vigorously as the song plays. I'm desperately trying to get the image out of my mind onto the canvas. My brush travels across his chiseled jawline. My colors hold his textured blonde color in a lock of hair that hung in his face while the rest was pulled back. My shadows play with the rippled muscles under his shirt. I let the music inspire me as I pai