Crying Eye Drawing Novels & Stories

My drawings. My breathing became uneven, and I pressed my lips together, biting down hard because I didn't want him to see me cry. I refused to give him the satisfaction. I tried swallowing the lump forming in my throat, but it only seemed to grow larger. One tear escaped anyway, sliding slowly down my cheek, followed by another, and then another. I looked down at the torn pages around me. Every drawing I had carefully created was now lying beneath my feet, ripped apart because of him.

I walked closer to him and answered, “Well, I can’t sleep while wondering if you fix that or not.” When I stood next to him, I saw the crumple drawing on the table. No matter how Eric used his palm to straighten the crumple, the result remained the same. But instead of complaining, I only scrutinized my son’s drawing. In the drawing, there is a tall man with blue eyes and angry brows. On the other side, a woman with black hair, red lips and peach dress is standing. In the middle, a cute kid with blue eyes is smiling. He is only holding the hand of the woman.

There's also a portrait of someone I guess I saw on F******k who is as gorgeous as barbies but in my drawing, she looked like a dying zombie who hasn't devour any human since she has turned into one. I thought it was the last drawing but when I dropped it and turned to the last page, I saw a realistic painting of a baby wrapped in purple cloth with silver linings on the edges. The baby has green eyes, plump lips, and chubby cheeks. I traced the lines until I noticed something written on the cloth. It's not very visible, the reason why it took me a little while to understand it. Then suddenly, the letters started dancing in my eyes until I understand what was written on them.

This isn't an outline, this is a full-blown drawing. “This is…” “A hobby I picked up, nothing interesting” He waves it off and my heart shreds up a little. I flip the next page and it's another drawing of me lifting a bloodied figurine high up above my head. My lips are pursed harshly and are painted a sharp shade of ruby red. My eyes are a different shade of brown, they look glazed over like I'm in some sort of bloodlust haze. There are specks of blood splattered all over my face and hands.

I whispered to myself. But my hands had already moved. Inside the package was a single sheet of paper, folded once. No note. No explanation. Just a drawing. My breath left me in a sharp, broken exhale. It was done in crayon. Bold lines. Messy edges. A child’s certainty in every stroke. A woman stood at the center of the page, her arms raised. Blue and yellow zigzags burst from her hands, stretching outward like lightning. Behind her stood two children. One taller. One smaller. Both drawn close to her back, like they were hiding and standing tall at the same time.

she flinched in fear I seen tears flowing from her eyes and her nose turned red she is hiccuping due to more crying I thrown a paper and said "write ten thousand times that you're wrong" she nodded her head and took the paper I looked at her she is writing while crying even whole paper became wet due to her tears this girl really easily made me angry now I'm feeling pitiful I went near her she is still writing I took the paper she said while wiping tears "didn't sobbb finished yet sobb" I replied "shhh I know this punishment is enough" she is still crying I took tissue and wiped her tears delicately she simply looks like a glass doll

His mother came out, and was pretending to be brave. I could tell, that she had been crying, who would hear such a thing and not cry, she saw tears In my eyes and started blinking her eyes in a bit to send back her own tears, that had started forming bubbles around her eyes, but off course, when the heart is too heavy with heart ache, whatever type, it may not be able to hold itself back, it will pour it all out, through that little passage, which happens to be the eyes.

My subconscious blamed me. "You know I will not worry too much about anything." I said to myself. I pulled off my coat and sat on the couch to study the drawings. I have five beings to find and I haven't found any. The three of us had five drawings which were all the same, that made the whole thing look more real. The first, a little boy, around Kabal's age. He has a special kind of eye, it looked too white, not gray, he's a little shepard. Second, like a slave girl, I see that she works in a brothel, She has a short hair that barely reached her shoulder. Third, a male with a pet, a white wild cat. Fourth, also a male, he has a birthmark beneath his left eye. The fifth, it's hard to discern

Sketching you might help me remember even the smallest details in my memory. As I closed my eyes and began to visualize your face, I could clearly see your forehead, eyebrows, eyes, nose, lips and chin. And while I got deeper in picturing you in my mind, I felt absurd affection and yearning. Those were the same feelings that embraced me when we intimately locked eyes for the first time. Immersed in that painful longing, I did not notice that I was already crying. When Chris and Ken heard my loud cries, they came in the room, rushing.

Chapter 105 Ellie Max seldom cries and, when he cries he usually means it . He doesn't cry crocodile tears , what I do know for a fact is that when something really scares him his sensitive side comes out . I placed my palms in his wet cheeks and kissed him . He leaned in and kissed me back when I opened my eyes he took a deep breath and hugged me . I hugged him back and he held me tighter . He was still crying and I kissed his shoulder and pulled back to look at his stormy grey eyes that were now red and his face reflected doubt and fear.