Poem Novel Painting Statue Flower Novels & Stories

A pair of warm wine colored eyes flashed inside her mind, and she frowned. Moving her fingers gently away from the wood, she brushed them over the canvas in a soft stroke. Her fingertips rippling over ever small dip in the smooth surface. The painting felt so real… her eyelids fell heavily over her eyes, and she slid her hands down the drawing, a solid heartbeat thrumming in her ears with every caress of texture. "What's your favorite flower?" "Roses, red ones. They remind me of home." A gentle hand petted through brown locks, and those warm eyes landed on her again, "What is your favorite flower, miss. Croix?"

As the music quickened, the flowers on the screen bloomed faster, more abundantly, energetically, and enthusiastically. Prince Eighth slowly stood up, his face blushing excitedly, and clapped his hands together vigorously, "So beautiful! This performance is the most beautiful! It's so much more beautiful compared to the earlier one!" Everyone kept exclaiming in awe, unable to describe their astonishment at this miraculous scene. The dance was not peerlessly extraordinary, and the painting technique could have been more sophisticated, but to dance and paint simultaneously, the most challenging aspect was coordinating these two actions. Each dance step had to correspond to the blossoming of a

**Emily’s POV** I sat in a corner of my room, staring at the rough painting that had been gifted to me by Malcolm's younger sister only a few days ago. It showed a pretty little red-haired girl holding a large hibiscus flower and according to her, the flower in the painting meant good luck. It was pretty and I loved it. But right now, I was bored. Freaking bored out of my mind and if boredom could kill, I'd be dead this instant. I needed to do something, to channel this sizzling energy coursing through my veins into something.

She went to the window just to see the magnificent view from it. Pidge twisted the door open and walked out. Walking down the stairs on tiptoes she saw Dylan was asleep on the couch. She made her way out of the house. The world is as silent as if it ended in the night. Upon the petals sit a hundred beads of water, each one a perfect sphere, brilliant in the morning rays. Each drop sits so lightly, yet together they are enough to cause the bloom to bow toward the earth. So delicate is the flower that even these scatterings of dew are significant. Soon the gentle heat of the morning will send them back to the clouds and the bloom will raise her head, calling to the summer bees.

"Hel..." "I want you in my room now!" The boss ordered. How much she hated his commanding attitude. "Haaahhh! I will kill you." She screamed and stormed out of the room, stamping her feet very hard on the ground. Xander chuckled when he saw her reaction after the phone call. 'She is such a wild flower' There was a loud bang on the door. He knew that it was only Ariande that would do that. "Don't pull down my door as you did my car." He shouted to her hearing. She opened the door and barged in.

Tulips, roses, orchids, daisies, and violets all neatly arranged in rows, beautifying the place. Green shrubs formed a statue at the center of the garden and short benches surrounded the monumental statue. A water fountain was glittering at the statue's side and I couldn't look away. "Is this the conservatory you spoke about?", I asked, the awe in my voice increasing with every step and new flower that came into my view. "No", Antonio shook his head. "This is one of the gardens, but the most special one". I could see why it was special with its beauty, but there was obviously a reason, judging from Antonio's voice.

Maybe I could paint something for Charlotte that Jara could bring, when she would join Emma later this week. By the time I was finished it was almost time for dinner. I made a painting that symbolized ‘new beginnings’. I wanted to paint a tree with flowers. I first thought of cherry blossom, but for some reason I was drawn to a Magnolia tree. The flowers were bigger and so beautiful. I had painted a close up of one of the branches of a Magnolia tree, with the pink and white flowers in full bloom. I went home and when I went to the packhouse Riker walked in and held his finger over his lips to shoosh me. “Come with me,” he said through mind linking me.

It instantly reminded me of the beauty and the beast show. The rose is set on the table set aside, a note scribbled on a white paper placed next to it. Like a magnetic pull, I walked over to this table and picked this flower lamp or whatever it's name would be into my palms. It was captivating, nearly hypnotizing. It was a unique work of art, nothing I'd ever seen before or ever dreamed of seeing. Talk more of touching with my own hands. I looked into the note on the table and read the words scribbled on it.

We lost the ability to read the writing on the old standing stones, but we can still feel her here, her power and magnificence. Nothing grows in the circle except grass, and on the very edge of the clearing, a little purple flower that doesn’t grow anywhere else on the property, and never dies. We call them The Goddess Garland, and when we bring a new wolf into the light, the she-wolves will fashion a crown from the flowers and their stems for the new wolf. We believe the mysterious little flowers bring us closer to The Goddess. I shift to human, bend over, and pick one of the flowers before I walk to the middle of the circle. I look up at the nearly full moon. “Why are you doing this?” I as

I questioned and she nodded. We entered the back seat and I notice she got a text from him that reads, “Do you like the flowers?” “Yes, I love them.” Was her response, love is in the air. Nate has never bought flowers from me, I guess I deserve one but in his heart Chloe deserves more. We arrived at the place and it turns out lots of guest were invited and we took our time to view a beautiful drawing of Mother Nature that was painted 1880, this is truly a beauty of art work.