Adventurous Drawings Novels & Stories

Then I went to the kitchen table where Julie had left the drawings, weighted down with a crayon so they wouldn't slide, two pieces of paper in the particular bold lines of a four year old who doesn't yet know to doubt herself. The first was the dragon, which did look somewhat like a dog but had a convincingly fierce expression, and the second was a figure with long dark hair and a smaller figure on either side of her, all three of them holding hands, the sky above them full of yellow circles that might have been stars or might have been suns, Julie having not yet settled on the distinction. I sat down on the kitchen floor with my back against the cabinet, still in the dress, the premiere som

From the drawing, it's lunch break and students are milling about around me but I'm standing there, looking stuck and feeling exhausted from the healing process. My eyes are a muddy brown but my lips are stretched out in a wide smile. My shoulders are slumped but my nostrils are flared like I'm angry and my fists are clenched so tightly, it's like I'm trying not to go wild. Like I'm trying to rein in my demons. And I don't even remember this. “These drawings are incredible, Jeremy.” “I should know, I made them and they're called outlines.” I slap his chest playfully, “Show a little gratitude.”

"It's settled, then. You will have our protection and a place to stay during your time in Black Creek." As their meeting finally came to an end, I couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the walls adorned with drawings and paintings. The images depicted wolves in various forms, some in fierce battle stances, and others in moments of tranquility. But what struck me the most were the drawings that seemed eerily familiar. I walked closer to one of them, my heart quickening as I realized that the wolf in the drawing was striking a fighting stance that mirrored one I had often used. It was as if the artist had captured my movements with uncanny precision.

"I brought some special markers, the kind that smell like fruit." "Smell like fruit?" Tom's eyes went huge. "That's so cool! Can I smell them?" For the next forty minutes, Tom and I sat at the low table while he drew elaborate pictures of penguins and dinosaurs having adventures. He narrated every detail, explaining the plot of his drawings with the seriousness of a director describing his masterpiece. "This penguin is named Mr. Waddles," Tom explained, carefully coloring in a purple penguin. "And this dinosaur is his best friend, Chompy. They go on adventures together and save people from bad guys."

The boredom and living in solitude might actually make me completely loose my mind or worse, I don't only loose my sense of reasoning but become like one of the thick forest savages that made drawings on the walls of their caves. For the first time the entire week, a smug expression made its way to my face when I imagined Adriano waking up someday to find ugly drawings made from charcoal all over his beautiful white walls. That would be interesting to see but then again, he could chop off my head and order his walls fixed with just a snap of his fingers so that's really not a good idea.

Penelope explained and my heart dropped. Before now I had never thought about just how hard it just be for Penelope and Carter to grow up without a mother. “I'm done.” Carter announced, saving me from having to reply Penelope. I turned to the excited boy as he turned he paper to me and I gasped as I stared at the magnificent drawing of a wolf. It didn't take a genius to know it was the wolf we had seen in the woods. The drawing had a childish scribble to it but it was obvious Carter had great potential.

Looking down, the corner of a piece of paper sticks out, just beckoning to be touched. Damon catches my eye, realizing my intentions. "Aidana...wait-" Grabbing for the paper, I'm surprised when dozens more fall upon my feet, fluttering out in front of me. I'm mortified, seeing that each drawing is a different one, all profile, and in more detail than I could ever imagine someone to muster from artistic skill. This is like nothing I've ever seen before, like looking into a snapshot of a life I hadn't realized anyone was a part of.

Lukan is genuinely kind and possesses a pure heart, that much my wolf knows for certain, and I trust his spirit. He flips the notebook back to the early pages, which include countless drawings of pack boardrooms, long trail crossings, stacks of territory treaties, and random mugs of bean sap in different dens. I look over his shoulder as his eyes devour each sketch again. Then, my sharp eyes notice the sudden pattern shift in the drawings. “What is it?” He searches my face, immediately noticing the shift in my scent.

Across from us, Clay was already asleep, noise-canceling headphones askew and a half-full bag of pretzels clutched in his palm. I pulled my sketchbook out of my bag. Its pages carried the stains of snow, firelight, and fear—each a testament to moments between chaos and resilient hope. But this page, I resolved, would be different. As I began to draw, I felt the pencil glide effortlessly across the paper as if it possessed a wisdom greater than mine. I created a silhouette of pine trees, their forms reclaimed by the gentle embrace of snow and the promise of bloom. The roots delved deep into a mountain of layered fabric swatches—canvas, hemp, wool, silk—textiles that whispered tales of enduran

Kabir asked, placing his hands gently on Kavish's shoulders. Kavish looked up, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I'm making a family drawing, Daddy! See!" He proudly turned the paper toward Kabir, revealing a colorful array of bear-like figures, each one distinctly different in size. Above each bear, he had written names with arrows pointing to their respective figures: Edhaa, Kavish, Mumma, and Daddy. Kabir's heart swelled with warmth as he took in the artwork. "Wow! Breaking all the crockery kind of helped, huh?" he chuckled, a smile spreading across his face.