All Chapters of Wunsken: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

It was like a ghost that haunted me at the end of the day. But that night was something that would live within me forever. My paintings were gone and it fucking felt like I'd lost my own existence as well. 

Regardless of the vague moonless night, inside the Santa Monica Gallery was as bright as the noontime. There were no garnitures, but my paintings hanging on the white wall were enough to decorate the whole gallery. Gazing to each of my masterpieces was like traveling to some places beyond imagination. 

She nodded, but her eyes still fixed on the painting. "She's very beautiful in person. Well, I know technically she isn't a person but she's really more glorious than when you look at her in books." 

I never supposed I was going to create a scene. Now, my visitors were all around me. No one was coming to approach. They were just staring.  Before my whole body turned senseless, I spun and sto

I just found myself smiling at her. This girl could see the light in a dark room, the hope in uncertainty. "Nina, you're so deep and positive. I admit, I thought you're just fourteen, but you're like an adult the way you talk."  

Others would think that I was crazy about wasting my life saving a lifeless painting. Little did they know, these unconscious things were actually the reason for my sanity. The fire was everywhere. Regardless of that, I didn't hesitate to come back to Paloma several minutes ago. 

A few minutes later, I was already riding my motorbike like a crazy-ass gangster on the road. It should be a heat-cracking daytime. However, the sun couldn't penetrate because the thick dark clouds were preventing it from spreading its power. The storm-like rain was pouring in fury, destroying the leaves and everything in the trees. 

It was the next day when I went to the police station. However, none of them believed me. They even didn't pay attention to the case that I was going to file. They said I don't have enough evidence and I was just wasting my energy hitting a huge wall.  

Contacting my brows, I opened the folder. "Application form for teaching at Maxwell International University?" "That's right. Our university is in need of Fine Arts professors." She fetched the folder in my hands and placed it on the cen

"So, how will you draw using just your memory?" I asked the class, my gaze moved to all angles of the classroom.  Thirty minutes ago when I collected their test booklets. Now, we were in the middle of the not-so-quiet lecture since