Wounded Angel Painting Novels & Stories

and it chronicled my transformation from the broken young woman who'd lost her mother to the wife, mother, and foundation director I'd become. The early pieces were dark and raw—angry slashes of red and black, expressing the pain I'd felt after my mother's death. The middle section showed the gradual lightening, the introduction of blues and greens as I'd found healing. And the final pieces were explosions of color and light, celebrating life and love and new beginnings. Damien stood beside me, Victoria sleeping in his arms, his expression one of pure pride. "These are incredible, Angel," he said, studying the large canvas that depicted our wedding day—abstract but unmistakably us, two figur

“Right’ but I'm going to ask you to look a little closer’ tell me what you see l. There is meaning behind this painting.” I sigh silently, then take a closer look, I look at the splashes’ the direction they're going in’ how they splat on the canvas, and I couldn't help but feel myself tearing up. “He's angry or sad. I could see it splashes in the direction they go in the clumps of paint.” “This painting was made by Daniel Knight’ the night his mother died, he went to three basements and started throwing paint over a painting he had already done. Look closer and tell me what else you see.”

Ends “Hey my beautiful Angel, I know you have joined college, it’s your dream to become a designer and I know you’ll achieve it, I’ll be waiting to wear your handmade design for me, remember this you’ll be my personal designer, may all your wish come true and I know my Angel is a warrior, who doesn’t back out from anything. Here is my wish for you Angel, Keep smiling, your smile lit up my small world. Hugs and good luck wishes” - Your Admirer

The only problem was that the whole room was just full of dust, and the furniture was almost completely covered by black cloth. I sighed because of that and was about to leave, but I almost jumped when I saw a woman on the side! The screams were almost formed in my throat, but it only ended in a gasp. I immediately held my chest when I realized it was just a human-sized painting. I accidentally knocked over the cloth covering it earlier.

I flung open the door, wailing, and threw myself into the arms of the visitor, my tears staining their shirt. But something felt wrong. Since when did Rachel develop such muscular and strong arms? Blinking through my tears, I looked up with a pitiful expression, only to see Jared standing there. I stumbled backward, whether from drunkenness or dizziness, I wasn't sure. In a swift motion, Jared caught me, wrapping his arms around my waist and drawing me into a comforting embrace as he gently patted my back. Regaining my senses, I pushed him away forcefully. "What are you doing here?" I demanded.

I gestured to the painting, “that’s what would be left. It wouldn’t make me whole, or fix anything. It might rid me of the darkness, but I’d still be shattered. Half of me would still be missing, and the scars would still remain, just without the shadows.” Grayson pressed a gentle kiss against my neck. “It’s beautiful, Angel,” he murmured. I shook my head, staring at the canvas with a mixture of frustration and sadness. “No, Gray, it’s not. It’s disgusting.”

His eyes glow a strange gray as he pulls back and lets me admire his gray wings; majestic and unearthly. Caleb howls and I see him jumping and avoiding the animals; wild cats, deers, and rabbits run from different points cross paths with my loved one and my friends. The Angel lands down between them and spreads his arms wide; his wings with them as well. The animals start to slow down and in a matter of seconds, they seem to wake up from a nightmare; looking around, lost. Then they start to spread to random places and dissipate quickly. What was that? What drove them to that state?

I sniffed, wiping my tears. "Yeah," a light smile crept up to my face. With one last, lingering gaze at the painting, we moved on to the next. The white backdrop created a halo on the painting but the same way it was breathtaking, was the same way it tore at me at the sight of the battered fallen angel that was cradling a tiny woman to his chest. Half of his grey wings were torn and bloodied, its feathers growing lifeless but he still had it wrapped around the woman, shielding her from the world. I could feel his affection, and devotion to the woman oozing off the painting, calling out to my soul, and stroking the sensitive part of it. Something about the painting felt a little cryptic, yet

Just as Tenshi looked at that rectangular thing from above was the exact time when Amorivia got stabbed with a sword. Not only that, it was the angel whom was wearing a hood who did it, displaying only his wicked smile. After the Angel withdrew the sword, he pulled Amorivia's hair, throwing her to the side like garbage. That evil act just sent fire to The Lost Boy's heart. Seeing the lady he hurt get killed like that, he wants to go on a rampage.

she asked. The woman smiled and answered her, " No, but I know Blake, your husband. I'm a famous painter and he contacted me before to paint you. He gave me a picture of you and told me to paint you with wings like an angel. And you really looked like an angel in personal," she said. Evangeline cried as she held the painting of her having some wings.