Lynnette: A Narrative Fiction

Eventually one day, a family friend of the Olmstead parents (Mark and Laura), suggested having them, Marla’s paintings, be hung up in their coffee shop, as a sort of joke, but instead of just being a joke, people took the paintings seriously, even coming to ask for prices. From there, the paintings’

Wanting to leave, posthaste, I stood to say my goodbyes, but my knees buckled, unable to sustain my full weight. The room, the maid, and Mrs. Winnaford were spinning. As I tried in vain to focus, two of everything swirled and exchanged positions in front of me. Reaching for something to hold on to, I

"A dollhouse," Leo recited, after a winding autumn breeze. Her voice was flat and quiet, still trapped in the memory. "I loved it very much." Like usual, Benson pressed her for details, but the woman was as deep in her memories as she was willing to go. Any further was dangerous. In fact, apparently, this far was dangerous, and she wasn't even ankle deep.

"You alright man? You were out for almost a week, and you were screaming in your sleep. Do you usually have night terrors like that? Or are you just traumatised from... Whatever the hell they did to you?" I managed to creak out a single word at last.

The focus of the painting is a woman in bright yellow. This woman stands above the crowd, showing only her back and a hunched figure. Her posture suggests that she is shy, self conscious and is afraid of the spotlight that she suddenly finds herself in. Her head is bowed which hides her face and deters us from seeing her identity. She looks as if she carries a great burden on her shoulders. She shares her pedestal with another woman in red who is smirking and confidently showing herself off. She, unlike the other woman, displays herself to be seen by all. She leans against the building behind her, her arm thrown to the side, which opens up her posture. Her confidence is worn as easily as her revealing

“Not well. I kept dreaming about last night. I can’t believe this is happening. It’s like this is one big nightmare that will never end.”

I made it upstairs, looking around. I didn’t see Mason, or my sister, for that matter. I wondered if maybe the drunk girl had been mistaken. I looked around at the closed bedroom doors. All was quiet. I didn’t think anyone was up there, not until I started to hear the moans and

Lauren obeyed, and dug her gloved fingers into his coat, curling her knuckles tight. His arm tightened around her. Uncontrollable shivers raced through her body. Nothing made sense. She wanted her toasty warm apartment. She wanted to forget about

She sits on the armrest of her wine-stained couch, then falls backward with a cushioned thud. Her thick, kinky hair lays splayed under her. Her large, veiny hands lift up to her tear-soaked face, covering her eyes. She sighs aloud summoning her roommates’ attention.

He felt the hint of a smile tug at the edge of his lips as he watched his classmate happily hum to herself as she sewed two patches of fabric together. Marinette was still somewhat of a mystery to him. She didn't throw herself at him like other girls had done, but she didn't completely ignore him either- anymore that is. On the first day he came to school, most classmates, girls and guys both, came up to greet him and some of the only people who didn't are the people he befriended later on. Alya hadn't thrown herself at him either but she was more outgoing, she had no filter and was quite easy to figure out but Marinette was different. She had so many different sides to her and Adrien made it a challenge to try to find as many as he could. He could only recall 5 so far.

Ralph stared at the ceiling and inhaled sharply. He shut his eyes as if he never wanted to see the sun again, and for a moment he attempted not to think. When he opened his eyes once more, he breathed easier and stared at the Salvador Dali painting that hung in front of him.

“The drawing I created during one of our art classes. We were allowed to draw whatever we wanted. My mind was blank, but yet I made a painting of twins in a lab. I am ashamed of my actions.” Sato lowered her head in humiliation and dishonour.

The painting hanging on her wall are more than just a reflection of the past. The paintings symbolize her inability to recognize Lucy’s pain. The relationship between the two girls is limited by an invisible social constraint. Lois has an idealized perception of Lucy’s. She holds Lucy in such high regard, that she is unable to recognize lLucy’s pain. This was a crippling social construct between the two friends. Lucy enjoyed bragging about her life and she loved the attention from Lois. The paintings are a reminder of Lois’s inability to accept the weakness of Lucy, or the idea that she could need her

One day, Mr. Metcalf spoke of his own feelings for his favorite painting, "The Jewish Bride," and why the Rembrandt portrait of an older couple meant so much to him. He began by saying that it reminded him of the

She pried open the crate and lifted out a painting. As the packing peanuts floated to the floor around her in an abstract pattern, Michelle looked stupefied at the painting. This is the result of her soul baring? A family portrait? She stared at her younger self, holding Cole, while Michaela and Mackenzie rest their arms on Mike’s shoulders.