Wounded Angel Painting Novels & Stories

His eyes, glimmering with tears, looking to heaven. In some paintings, he was alone and abandoned. In others, hungry beasts stalked him, teeth bared, eyes narrow and cruel staring from the shadows. And still, in others, an angel hovered overhead, wings open, gown fluttering, the gaze calm and peaceful and comforting. This beautiful, wounded martyr crowded the walls of Corrompero’s narrow hall, the saint’s naked flesh looking soft and delicate, often pale. As if soaked in moonlight, she found herself thinking, the world around him often dark and foreboding. The only light the glow of his omniscient god, in starshine and moonlight, caressing his alabaster skin.

Some of the pictures were of those very platoons setting fire to the towns around the mountains. Hannah was so absorbed in what she was doing that she didn’t stir when the two entered her room. Michael picked up her drawings to get a closer look. Emma peered over his shoulder and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. He touched her hand and sent waves of comfort to ease her mind. The drawings he held were frighteningly explicit and detailed, with people drawn as though they were on fire, running from houses and buildings that were already ablaze. In another set of pictures, she saw the Brethren warriors, dressed in black leather pants and wings unfurled, fighting against creatures that were half h

My hands were shaking as I hugged him. Were they really dead? All of them? Am I free from them? I'm overwhelmed with the fact that there's no more chasing. No more running away. I cried as I hugged the wolf tighter. My angel wolf. Mistaking my cries for distress, the wolf whined and licked those tears away. I didn't mind that it was literally on someone's head just a few moments ago. This angel wolf of mine saved my life.

" The wings were not cut with a blade. They were ripped off at once. Kleyphon cried again, reaching a tone as sharp and terrible as Miguel emitted after losing his wings. Zylah and Anne stayed next to me in the corner of the room, watching as Miguel put the thread on the needle and began to try to close the hole in Kleyphon's back. The archangel's cry intensified, and even when my friends covered their ears with their hands, I knew they could still hear the laments of the exiled angel. When Miguel finished, he used the wet antiseptic on a cotton to clean the iron mark on Kleyphon's throat, but the archangel no longer felt pain, after the torture of having his body sewn in the place where he

I shouldn't have said that, it's not what I think about you. My breathing became difficult again as the ebony— colored pupil of his eyes was larger than normal and too focused on mine. — I sucked, Angel. That day I... He searched for the words, I could see that he had regret. — You were hurt. — I whispered amid the silence and absence of the music. — Yes. — pressed his eyes hard. — And I didn't want you to see me like that... I didn't want you to help me. I was annoyed and... I pushed you, I said...

He could really see how much she wanted to be okay again. Things changed when Sunny won a huge painting competition, it was the painting that she was doing on the day Linus came. “I made this painting during the times that I felt very lonely, when I felt that everything in my life is falling apart," She smiled, "it was supposed to very gloomy, I wanted to express the loneliness I'm feeling during that time. But one day, when I was almost finished making this piece, I suddenly felt an unexplainable feeling of warmth. It was like someone is embracing and promising me that things would be better soon. Hence the title of this piece; Guardian Angel.”

He walked inside a room and smiled at his angel. There laid a girl, tied to the bed, her eyes closed yet tears stained her face. "Aww my baby" he cooed and walked towards her. He sat down and stroked her angelic face. His heart churned in pain when he saw the tear stains on her face. He clenched his jaw in anger knowing his angel was crying and he was the reason behind it but he only wanted her happiness, he wanted everything to be like before, like 5 years ago.

A wolf was situated in the center, howling at the brilliant full moon. Down his right arm was a collage of angels, each more beautiful than the last. The portrait on his upper bicep had a lot of the qualities he did, making me believe it was of his mother - his favorite angel of all. The left arm was composed of words and different phases of the moon. The script was in a language I wasn’t familiar with but looked beautiful. He himself was a work of art and I was going to show my appreciation while on my knees in front of my God.