The Artist
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His brush was a bright metallic silver coated in deep red paint. His canvas was skin coloured, and so delicate to the touch you could pierce it at any moment.
He is the artist and they are the canvas.
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Journals of a Stalker
"Today I met the woman I am supposed to be with for the rest of my life. My soulmate. If only she would see that we are meant to be together too." An undiagnosed sociopath falls madly in love with a young woman. What happens when love turns into an obsession that burns like fire, but there's nothing to put it out? What if someone is in their way of happiness? Read and find out in Journals of a Stalker.Concluida![One Soul In Two Bodies [ONESHOT]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/360369043-256-k90919.jpg)
One Soul In Two Bodies [ONESHOT]
You suffer in a tragic love story, where, your athletic lover suffers an unfortunate accident. Think of it like this, you love to paint in favor of your enjoyment. What happens when someone takes all the color in the world? You simply cannot paint anymore. You cannot do what you love as you cannot find love in what you do anymore. Nevertheless, you decide to be there for them. Are you ready to challenge the red strings of fate?Concluida
The Coloring Book
Pain can be felt in an infinite number of forms. It is felt when it is inflicted on you but sometimes you also feel it when you inflict it on others. All the colors of the rainbow bleed through the paper and cross the lines of the coloring book. He crossed the lines I drew again and again. I worked hard to breathe life into my days and fill them with color until he came in splattering paint everywhere. I don't know what to do. I don't want to hurt him because in doing so, I not only hurt myself but I feel a part of my soul leaving my body. And I blame him. I stand in the center of the page and watch the colors bleed through. I see his footsteps in red, orange, yellow . . . I watched the pages rip as I let my life fall apart. All because of him. Credit to @iampillowbunny707 for this synopsis.Concluida
Taken // h.s
She painted his life with color and he infused her soul with passion.Concluida
ｃｈｒｙｓｓｉｅ
❛ he had loved her for years, centuries, eons even. he had loved her from the very first touch, from the very first word upon her sweet lips. ❜ all grayson had ever wanted was his chryssie.Concluida
The Black Canvas
The canvas symbolizes the mind. A white canvas is a healthy, normal functioning mind. The colors that get painted on are different emotions. But no matter how much paint is on that canvas, it is still a white canvas underneath. Now when it is a pure black canvas, it is a mind that is tortured. A mind that contains disorders like anxiety, depression, schizophrenia, bipolar, PTSD, etc. An unstable mind. :A girl plagued with bad memories finds somebody who she had been looking for all her life. Well, I wouldn't say all her life, being as she is only 20, but the majority of her life, she has been lonely. The more she continues to get to know this special person, the more she starts to question her own thoughts. When things don't add up, she is desperate for answers.Concluida
𝐄𝐊 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐅𝐀 -Pyscho's Heartbeat
𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫. "You're a psycho, a crazy bastard," I spat out, my veins pulsing with anger. He can't, he can't save me because I'm his. Because I'm not. "You made me that, remember?" His bloodied hand approached my face, sending shivers down my spine as he gently traced my skin from my forehead, down to my cheekbones, and finally to my jaw. His warm blood left a trail on my face, causing my ribs to tighten and my limbs to tremble. His touch was electric and scorching, searing my skin. Hamdan Waseem had always been a soft sunshine in my eyes, but the figure before me now, smearing his warm blood on my face, is still Hamdan, yet a version I never knew. He's a monstrous version of himself, a psycho. "Calling me a psycho is an understatement because I'm much more than that six-letter word when it comes to you," he smirked devilishly, causing my stomach to churn.Concluida
Stained in Scarlet
There was a man. A man with honey smiles and hands that could paint the heavens. A man who loved tea and sweet conversation under golden sunsets. His name was Taehyung. But when the moon bled scarlet, the man changed. The smile stayed, but the hands craved something darker - a canvas made of flesh and fear. His name was V. Jungkook came searching for a story, chasing whispers of a killer lost in the beauty of his own art. Instead, he found himself inside the painting. Love twisted into obsession. Pain became the brushstroke. And desire - desire was a knife-edge dance between heaven and hell. In the end, every masterpiece needs a muse... And every muse must bleed.
"Today I met the woman I am supposed to be with for the rest of my life. My soulmate. If only she would see that we are meant to be together too." An undiagnosed sociopath falls madly in love with a young woman. What happens when love turns into an obsession that burns like fire, but there's nothing to put it out? What if someone is in their way of happiness? Read and find out in Journals of a Stalker.
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