The Stolen Kiss Painting Novels & Stories

“This actually feels like I am taking a tour of the Xenon pack in the ancient times. It is a solemn feeling and not as boring as I thought it’d be.” “I am glad you are enjoying this tour, princess.” “I guess, I am.” “Look. This is known as ‘the last kiss.’” Zephyr pointed out a painting of the silhouette of a man and woman leaning against one another for a kiss, but their lips weren’t touching. Behind them was a moon showering light out of the painting. “Hmm? How is it a kiss? I mean, they clearly aren’t kissing,” I said, beholding the painting.

I was just falling asleep when the sound of a knock on the door opened my eyes. I lifted my head to see one of my men standing by the door. He looked like something was wrong and I immediately stood to my feet, all sleep dissipating from my body. "What's wrong?" The man was silent for a while, like he was contemplating if what he would say would make my reaction wild. "Is it hard for you to speak?!" "No, my Lord." "Then speak!" I commanded. "The Van Gogh painting has been stolen. "

"Do not think too much, do not talk we said these are stolen moments. I just felt like kissing in the morning. I missed you and do not even say anything I know you are going to dispute this but I missed you. How are you today?" I was rendered speechless because I was not used to this passionate person. I was used to the one-sided love of my husband. When I said I love you and he will say I love you too, but he never showed affection even when alone he will just hold me and kiss me here and there but not as passionate as Chisomo did. I looked aside and blushed I wanted to dispute but it felt good and I felt like trying these stolen moments and I was ready to go on the journey although I didn'

he says, reaching for her lap again. She isn't about to lose her virginity to this drunk and not-so-good-looking man. His breath reeked the smell of drinks mixed with a stench of cigarettes, a smell she despises the most. She couldn't lie to herself anymore, she might not get on with this new lifestyle. "Don't touch me!" she says sternly, pushing his hands away from her. He forcefully grabs her by the arm and pulls her closer to himself, she tries to break free and is also staring at the group of people that we're dancing in the club to reach for Olivia but her sight is also getting blurry,

He paused for a moment, and as I tried to peek at the canvas, he lifted it over my head. "Zylon," I protested. "I'll show you if you kiss me first," he bargained. I kissed him quickly before he could prepare. "No, a proper one," he insisted. I obliged, and afterward, he finally revealed the painting. It depicted Hayes and me on the picnic blanket, smiling as we talked, just as we had a few moments before. His painting captured everything around us beautifully. He was talented. "This is amazing," I exclaimed, passing the painting to Hayes for him to see. “ I'm keeping it,”

My hands are very still on the keyboard and my coffee is completely cold and outside the Paris morning is doing its thing, pale and unhurried, and I sit in it and feel the full weight of what I'm looking at. A stolen painting. Stolen during the occupation from a Jewish dealer's seized inventory. In the possession of Bernard Allard's father from 1948, with no documented acquisition. In Bernard Allard's possession now, seventy-seven years later, about to go to auction. And Bernard Allard sent me this documentation himself. Which means one of two things. Either he doesn't know what his records reveal to someone who knows how to read them, or he knows exactly what they reveal and he sent them an

This kiss carried weight, a vow unspoken. When they broke apart, Allistair grinned happily. “So do you want to see it now?” “Yes baby, where is it?” Samael exclaimed, clearly excited. Allistair stood up and waved his hand and the square designed fountain parted and revealed all his paintings that he recently made and on the centeris the exact replica of the painting he burned. The one called “Aeternum”. The painting made by the greatest painter of all time, his favorite painter Vianna Resilda Del Fierro, Samael’s mother.

It was indeed beautiful, everyone in the room recognized the painting immediately. "No way", Bob gasped while Stefan slightly gawked at the painting but he quickly recovered. "That's James Blake's painting, it was stolen from the museum years back". He turned sharply to look at Candy. "How to do you people get your hands on precious items like this?". "We have our ways". She smiled and nudged his face back towards the the stage. "We have much more surprises for you". Bob turned around eagerly, like a child eager for a treat.

Countless scornful looks fell upon me, and my body stiffened. The words I had strung together were lodged fast in my throat. All I wanted was to retrieve my belongings. All I wanted was to say goodbye. "What are you doing here?" Before I had time to recover, Ivor emerged from the villa holding a stuffed toy. It was our token of love from when we were 18. On the day of our engagement, it went missing. I thought it was gone forever.

I say, stretching my hands up, waiting for him to pull me up. “Yes my queen” he says and drags me up, my face in front of his, and I quickly steal a kiss “I bet you didn’t see that kiss coming, did you?” I ask him, smiling and proud of my achievement. “I’ll let that one slide cause It's a kiss and I love kisses and I just stole plenty of kisses on the bed too” he says, and I squint my eyes, trying to understand his grammar. “What do you mean, you stole kisses? You didn’t because if you did. It would have just been one. Anything more than two kisses cannot be said to be stolen” I smile.