Blitzo Drawing Novels & Stories

I stood on my tip toes, trying to see better. A bell rang and Alaric’s antics stopped. He strutted over to a corner of the ring and spoke to the man with blonde highlights. A moment later, another bell rang and Alaric spun around. He bounced around, showing off his quick footwork as he made his way to the middle of the ring where his competitor, Lance, waited for him.

Damon was hitting him continuously and man almost bled to the death. "Damn, man... you are really stubborn..." He chuckled while tossing the stick away and sitting on the chair while panting. "We'll continue again after my break but till then my friends will take care of you." The man was literally skinned alive. Yang nodded at Damon and opened the box. Yibo started screaming when rats climbed on his body hungrily. Mira closed her eyes and turned around as she felt her lunch coming back to her throat. She ran out and gasped for the fresh air.

Ozzie has stopped drawing. His pencil is still. His sketchpad is open and there is a drawing on the page — the chamber, the plinth, the map, me at the centre of it — rendered in the specific lines of someone who has been drawing their whole life and has found the thing that required everything they had. He looks at me. His jaw is doing the thing. His eyes are doing the thing. "Ozzie," I say. "I'm fine," he says. "You're not," I say.

Not in the mood to participate. Two seventh-graders stormed past me, chasing each other, one attired as a pitbull dog and the other as a ragdoll cat. Some students don't take the cheer spirit day dress-up seriously, and just a joke. I met Bryson and his girlfriend Elena along the way as I was heading to my class. Bryson is attired in a bluish-white costume adorned with fins, and in his hands, he had a triton. Elena chose to match his outfit.

Blaze continued. "And?" Sandro prompted. Blaze remained silent for a while, causing Sandro to scoff. "Are you trying to make me beg for information?" "I never said you should," Blaze pointed out. "I'm just trying to find the right way to say it." Sandro nodded, waiting patiently, still observing Blaze, who seemed to relish making him wait. "I've come across a tattoo, but I can't quite place its significance," Blaze finally admitted, handing over a paper with a sketch of the tattoo.

“It’s ready. Just waiting on the details. Blaze was gonna do it, but I told him no. Customer paid for Ghost, they’re getting Ghost. I can’t risk anyone finding out otherwise.” I sigh and walk over, pulling the papers out of the folder. The sketch is mine, hours of drawing it until it was perfect. Flames licking around the tank, shadows curling in subtle shapes, like smoke forming skulls if you stare too long. It’s my work. My mark. I grab the brushes and paints Echo left, sit on the floor, and start. For a while, there’s nothing but the quiet rhythm of brush to metal, the hiss of paint as it spreads, the world narrowing down to colors and lines. It grounds me and steadies the storm in my hea

His face grim, Colin snorted, "Where did you find this actor? His acting skills are pretty convincing. But no, this won't work. You abused Joyce's cat. We were just gonna let it slide if you apologized to her, but you're too stubborn. Get over here, or you'll never get a glance from me again." At such a point, he was still trying to frame me. I glared at him and looked at my bloody hands from his stomps. I had a knack for painting. With Lauren's support, I never gave up. Once, I beat another girl in a competition, and she came after me. Colin stepped in like a fierce protector. Now he was the one hurting me most. I looked away, refusing to move. His patience wearing thin, he growled, "Come o

Dexter's smirk dances on the edges of his lips as he points out, "Well, you've got an extra talent up your sleeve – certainly a master of tattoo artistry, I must say. Quite the paradox, isn't it? A remarkable tattoo artist, yet your own skin remains untouched!" Blaze titters, his gaze briefly flickering to Dexter's elaborate tattoos. He possessed irrefutable talent. However, opting to remain ink-free was a deliberate choice reflecting his personal preferences. "Don't tell me you're afraid of a few needle pricks?" Dexter teases. Blaze, unable to contain his amusement, retaliated by grabbing a nearby cushion and hitting Dexter with it. "Well, you're the bloodsucker here, so consider this a lov

Something else. The dry-erase board squeaked as I drew out the zone entry diagram. Three arrows, red circles, two “X” marks, and a big blocky #17 in the neutral zone. The boys weren’t listening at first. Some of them were laughing behind gloves. Some were checking their phones under the bench. One guy in the corner was literally sniffing his protein shake like it offended him. And Blaze? Blaze was pretending to fall asleep—head tipped back, mouth slightly open, one hand dramatically resting on his chest like he’d fainted from boredom.

Victor stepped back just enough to appear as though he had only just arrived. Silas collided gently into his leg. “Victor!” Victor forced a warm smile. “Hey there, champion.” Silas held up the drawing proudly. “I made this.” Victor took the paper slowly. Three stick figures. A family. His gaze lingered on the third figure longer than necessary. “Very nice,” he said calmly. Silas pointed to the drawing. “I’m trying to figure out who this one is.” Victor’s smile held steady. “I see.” Silas nodded.