Art Sales

Head in the Clouds (310 words)
The antique cuckoo clock struck eight at night, its tinkling resounding in the cosy castle of Sky’s. Metal leaves surrounded the clock’s edges, as a fox sprung out, petite nightingales chirping after it. Thin clouds drifted outside, barely visible in the cloak of the night. The Coatl leapt out of his dinner chair and closed the windows of his house, a little too forcefully when he noticed the glass rattling as they slammed shut. But who could blame him? He had to get his priorities straight. Shovelling down the last of his dinner, Sky washed up and padded out to his library.

Bookshelves stretched around the whole room, filled with books of so many colours it was like looking through a kaleidoscope. The tops arched to meet a point on the ceiling, an intricate dome that was the highest point in Sky’s home. This was his favourite place - his little nook. A small pile of magic props lay in the corner, his side-hustle as an illusionist, a second identity aside from an avid reader.

The delicate aroma of old paper wafted around the dimly-lit room. Unlike the other rooms, there were no candles lit, for the risk of losing his precious books to flames. Instead, two lanterns with fireflies swung on the ceiling, waiting to be let out once the Coatl finished reading.

Literature never failed to disappoint. Perceiving the beauty of the world and outpours of emotion through mesmerising tangles of words - how could one not fall in love with it, Sky always wondered. As he sank into a cream-coloured beanbag, he gently opened the book he picked off his shelf: an old but somewhat still-in-good-condition edition of arcane magic.

And as he delved down the rabbit hole of self-discovery, you can only expect to see him only after four hours. Let’s pray for the buzzing fireflies, shall we?

Yellow Paint (388 words)
The earth was soft under his claws as he shuffled home in the meagre light of dusk. Sure, Iriekain could fly, but lethargy clouded over his senses and left him with strength just enough to trudge back to comfort. How he longed for a generous cup of chocolate and to laze in bed, finally catching some shut-eye from work.

But just as he approached his home, Iriekain noticed something different about the willow tree that stood by it. Instead of the soothing brown hues that filled his land with a certain vibe, it was splashed in garish colours, somehow still visible despite the setting sun. He was used to the old tree, with its lush locks of leaves drooping down and a plain bark. The Skydancer froze momentarily, narrowing his eyes at the bizarre sight. As he pondered the possibilities of the poor tree’s predicament, a rustle in the canopies disturbed him.

Down fell a Skydancer, but before she hit the ground, she caught herself and swooped up toward the sky. Even in the darkness, Iriekain could see a mischievous smile painted on her face. The culprit. He called out to the dragon, who soared toward him and landed hastily, unknowing of the chiding she was about to receive.

“Who are y- did you do that?” Iriekain nodded toward the willow tree vandalised with splashes of bright colour. The other dragon simply grinned, bowed playfully and opened a jar of yellow paint, mysteriously summoned from nowhere. Before Iriekain could say anything, yellow paint splattered all around - on the grass, on the tree, on him.

“You-” he growled, fatigue suddenly replaced with rage. Who was this dragon, and what was she trying to do?

“I’m Wiekain,” She laughed, taking in the sight of the irritated Iriekain. “Your willow tree looked sad and dull, and don’t worry, it won’t die from paint,” The dragon pranced around the grass, her paws now stained with yellow too. Iriekain silently watched the Skydancer splash more yellow onto the tree. An uncertain smile crept onto his face.

Perhaps, just this once, he wouldn’t chide others for breaking “the rules”. Maybe his sleep could wait, too.

Slowly, he dipped a paw into the yellow paint and hesitantly smeared it on a bare space of bark, ignorant of Wiekain watching him with a soft smile.