Fiction
Words & Pictures
I bite my plastic straw as I suck overly-sweet iced vanilla latte into my mouth, unreasonably nervous and hyper-caffeinated (not the best combination). I’m trying to draw the ‘50s-style stool at the counter, but my sketch looks more like a weird robot with wonky legs. I am a terrible artist, and this person is going to see right through me immediately; there’s no way they’re going to want to work with me. My leg bobs up and down, which is not helping my jittering hands or pounding heart. I shouldn’t be here–it’s Wednesday! I should be at my comic shop picking up new releases. I’m just about to get up and run for the door when the person I’m meeting walks in. I recognize them from their profile pic–they have straight, shoulder-length brown hair, round glasses, and a curvy figure. They’re wearing a green shirt under denim overalls. Their gray eyes are piercing. They spot me immediately and make a bee-line for my table and I somehow manage not to curse out loud.
By Bex Jordan3 years ago in Art
Bob Ross made me do it
Watching Bob Ross painting has always been my go-to relaxation activity. No spa or relaxing bath for me! No, I grab myself a glass of something, an elderflower cordial, and maybe a snack to nibble on and plonk myself on the couch to watch the fuzzy haired maestro himself. I can feel the tension tangibly releasing itself from my shoulders and neck as I drift into his creative process, like an air pillow. I love it when he mixes a bit of "Prussian Blue" and "Van Dyke Brown" and seemingly dabs it onto a canvas in a random way but revealing way, creating phenomenal pictures.
By Rachel Deeming3 years ago in Art
The Sisters' Feast
The sisters sat upon their bench, using flowers from the garden to create garlands that would hang in the hallways and from the windows. It was a tradition and their garden never failed to amaze. It was always bountiful, blooming in the brightest colors with the richest scents.
By Katrina Thornley3 years ago in Art
A Million Times Smarter Than The Smartest Human. Runner-Up in Painted Prose Challenge.
This all started on one of those blazing hot New York days when the heat reflecting off the concrete and blacktop landscape turns the whole city into a convection oven full of disgruntled, sweaty people all rushing to get back inside. On days like that you can feel the parks breathing, exhaling their shade-cooled breath into the surrounding air. Yet, those verdant oases offer only a hint of the relief found from walking past some store with its huge glass doors open to the sidewalk on an avenue. One can’t help but feel a pang of guilt for enjoying a moment within untold cubic feet of ice-cold air-conditioned breeze blasting out onto the sidewalk.
By J. Otis Haas3 years ago in Art
Isle of the Dead. Runner-Up in Painted Prose Challenge.
“Papa?” Ada’s voice broke through a shallow and dreamless sleep. Mattias opened his eyes to a room no less dark than the space behind his eyelids. He reached for either the bedside lamp or for Miriam, before remembering he was sleeping on the couch.
By Steve Hanson3 years ago in Art
The Time Traveler's Dilemma
Once upon a time, in the quaint town of Porthaven, nestled amidst rolling green hills, a peculiar event unfolded that would leave an indelible mark on history. It began with a fortuitous mishap, as a humble time traveler named Eliza found herself inexplicably transported to the past, specifically to the workshop of the renowned Flemish artist, Quentin Matsys.
By Ammar Asmat Virk3 years ago in Art
Downfall
Tonight was the night she would kill him. She gazed from across the room, gripping a bejeweled hairpin in one hand. Without realising, she grasped it tightly, so tightly her knuckles were starting to turn white. The precious gem sparkled at one end, reflecting the shining silver and gold of her sumptuous tunic. At the other end: a sharp and deadly point.
By Jenifer Nim3 years ago in Art
Madam Reina Fleming on Life, Love, and the Chihuly Gardens and Glass Exhibits
This fictional story features the real-world art of Dale Chihuly. My cautious doctor means well. He put me on rainbow-colored pills and bedrest for a week, to begin today; however, on this splendid afternoon, I am indulging in all things autumn and brilliant Chihuly garden and glass exhibits. All are worth a few short breaths and the aches of time-worn joints. Have you ever experienced Chihuly masterpieces? An old lover, deceased, once described them as glass on fire.
By D. ALEXANDRA PORTER3 years ago in Art
