Rosalina Drawing Novels & Stories

Perhaps he had not loved me for a long time now. It was my fault for never noticing—for stupidly believing that true love would never die. Now, Lara smiled as she leaned against the doorway, purring so softly her voice could melt anything, "I heard you made pasta. Can I have a bowl? With minced ginger, please. My cravings are really terrible these days." "You've got it," John grinned lovingly. "Who would spoil my baby if not me?" Still, he soon paused when he inadvertently noticed the black roses outside. "I'll tell the gardener to uproot those flowers. They remind me of Claire's disgusting face—I don't want them to hurt our eyes!"

her lips were curled into a soft, welcoming smile. I offered a small smile in return before muttering a soft "Hello" Lilo looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to say my name, but then sighed when she realized I wasn't going to. "Colleen, this is Rosalya, but she also goes by Rosie. She's Calix’s human mate!", Lilo said like if she were a proud mom. Oh my gosh, this girl. Colleen gasped, clamping her hands to her mouth with widened eyes. I shrunk into the bed a little as I wasn't really liking her reaction.

Evren couldn't have been older than ten, wearing an expression of pure boredom while Lucien jabbed a finger excitedly at some enormous history book. "Some things never change," Pearl said, smiling. Rosalie glanced at the painting and laughed. "That one's famous." "Why?" "Eros wanted a formal portrait. We ruined six before we got that one." "What happened?" Finn asked. Rosalie pointed. "Evren kept making faces." "I was a child." "You were impossible." "I was expressive." "You were impossible." "I can actually believe that," Pearl said, studying the painting again. Evren caught up to the group just in time to hear it. "I feel like everyone's conspiring against me today."

“Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be near.” I waited until she disappeared behind the swinging kitchen door before turning my full attention towards my drawing book. My awkward fumbling of the pencil stopped as I gripped it in a tight hold. Idea’s grew from the toxic darkness that lingered, the pointed tip of the lead carefully sketching a hand grasping an entwined honeysuckle and rose crown. A flower crown. A simple smile. Erasing some of the shaded blackness that colored the eyes. Yeah, I think I will color this one.

—one of her many ridiculous rules. "Whatcha drawing?" I asked, sitting beside her on the stone bench. "It's the rose lady," Ava said, not looking up. Her small hand moved confidently across the paper, sketching a woman with long dark hair. "She wasn't in my dreams last night, so I'm drawing her instead." I studied the drawing. Even with a child's limited skill, there was something familiar about the figure. The way she stood, the shape of her face. "Ava," I said, lowering my voice even though we were alone in this corner of the garden. "I need to tell you something important. A secret just between us."

Resting on the throne’s armrest a red crayon softly rocking back and forth as though it had just been placed there. Marco moves closer. The crayon bears an inscription engraved in gold: DRAW THE DOOR, ISLA. WE’LL BE WAITING. Elena’s complexion pales dramatically. "She’s even sketching doors while asleep. What if she—” Rosa halts her pacing instantly drawing her machetes. "Then we ensure she crafts them in gold. We show her how to change the rules just as you have.” Lila nods, the flare gun snapping shut with a click. "It’s a decision, kid. Like the one I made. You pick the blood. It picks you.”

On the other hand, Asteria and Jasmine began to talk about their respective paintings. Both were timid at first but gradually found their voice and comfort. They were engrossed in their discussion and did not even notice Rosaline when she came back with food. She placed the tray with snacks and juice on a table away from the drawing boards and reminded them to eat while talking. She left, making some excuse. Rosaline had seen a little boy taking pictures. She encouraged him to take more candid shots of them drawing and talking. She also asked him to take photos of the five of them.

"It reappeared." Rosa appeared from the kitchen. She looked at Marcus's face, then at Elena's, and said, "Come inside and close the door." The kitchen table had been cleared of everything except the drawings. Large format architectural paper unrolled and held flat at the corners by four objects Marcus had apparently found around the apartment — a coffee mug, a book, a small ceramic dish, and Rosa's reading glasses case. The improvised weights of a man who had not come here to make a presentation but who had a great deal to explain and had decided the drawings were the most efficient place to begin.

I was kneeling in the center of it, barefoot, damp, exhausted, dressed in one of Mirabella’s old faded house gowns with bleach stains across the hem, looking less like family and more like the servant Rosalina constantly reminded me I was. “Oh, calm down, honey.” Rosalina’s voice flowed like silk dipped in poison. “No one is marrying you off to a dead man. I would never do such a horrible thing to my daughter.” A small laugh followed. Soft. Controlled. Cruel. My scrubbing slowed. I lifted my eyes just enough to see Rosalina seated elegantly on the velvet couch, one leg crossed over the other, a glass of red wine balanced between her fingers. Her lips curled.

Joni sighed flopping back in the chair. No one brought up the marriage talk about her and Vincent again and they finished getting ready before heading outside to get some pictures taken. Rebecca loved Rosalina’s dress even if it wasn’t something she would ever dare wearing. It was skin tight, low cut, backless and appeared to be see through. The dress shouted Rosalina. Her black hair that was in ringlets when Rebecca had arrived, had been brushed out so that it was slightly wavy. She wore very little makeup like normal. Domenico had told her he liked that better because her dark brown eyes didn’t need anything to look amazing so, she wanted to make it happy. “Five minutes,” Rebecca smiled at