• Member Since 3rd Dec, 2012
  • offline last seen Yesterday


Too much to write; too little time


The Painter’s brush whispered across the pane of glass, the only sound in the darkness. The only light in the room was a dim, flickering bulb located right above him and his work. Gently, carefully, he drew another stroke across the smooth material, followed by another, then another. Each stroke as perfect as the last, each brush blending in perfectly with the color around it. It had to be perfect, for if it wasn’t then the magic it held would be lost.

Chapters (1)
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Comments ( 12 )

:pinkiehappy: i like it, good job

Wow, this story deserves to be on EQD! :heart:


Geez...thanks! It was just a little something I threw together late one night. :twilightblush:

Interesting idea, may read later.
I say may because there's so many I haven't read yet, and I have no idea how long it'll take to get to this one.

Its stories like these that really say something, few people read them, even fewer understand, but in the end, they still speak.

I wish there was more to this story.

This painter guy reminds me of that one dude from Heroes who did pretty much the same thing. At least until Sylar ate his brains. Yeah.

Everything he painted had always come true, and this time would be no exception...
...and this one was going to be one hell of a story.

One hell of a story indeed. Great work. :pinkiehappy:

This story is short, sweet and said everything it needed to. Nothing more or less

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