Crying Eye Drawing Novels & Stories

The sorrow in her eyes, the faint beauty mark at the corner of her eye—every detail was too familiar. Because the girl in the drawing was her.

I sat and started working again. Better I escape from this country. Don't you dare cry Eleanor! My mind warned me. I will not cry for some little dumb annoying freak!!! I wiped my tears that pouring out and started drawing sketches. And before I know the sun rised from the sky!! Love ❤️❤️ moniagnes

Some would argue that I was being dramatic but I didn’t care. “Why are your eyes red?” she asked, frowning. My eyes were red? I hadn’t even cried today. I forced a small smile. “I’m just tired.” She moved on quickly. “Guess what?” she squealed, tugging me. “I drew something for you.” I let her drag me to the bed, and picked up the paper, handing it to me proudly. It was a drawing of three stick figures. Her, me, and— My fingers instinctively tightened around the paper, almost crumpling it in the process.

I closed my eyes, took another breath, and then tried again, hoping for a different result. This time, my hand steadied slightly and I began to draw. Slow strokes, a line here, and a curve there. planning. I hadn’t planned this beforehand, but it was as if I did. Minutes went by quickly and I didn’t even realize I had stopped shaking until I finished the rough outline of a woman looking into a cracked mirror, her reflection smiling back even as tears fell from the real eyes. Dropping the pencil, I stepped backwards as my heart slammed furiously against my chest. It didn’t look good to me, in fact, it wasn't good.

He looks so sad, the shock of being confronted with the sight, one he has always been avoiding, hardly ever looking at himself in a mirror, crushes him. There’s another drawing underneath he pulls out with trembling fingers, freezing up harshly, silently gasping as he stares at Sam face, torn with emotions; despair, devastation, grief, they all fit, memory flashes of him crying, begging Win to start over that night, popping into his mind, but the drawing looks even more painful, his true anguish showing, unveiled. His shaky fingers lose grip on the drawings, floating to the floor, his chest suddenly heaving with the onrush of his need to breathe, his eyes falling on another piece of paper, s

Instantly my mouth drop open. " Is it good ? ", He asks a bit nervously. " It's...Ethan...it's too g..good.", I say. His lips bunch into wide smile after a second. " Really ?", he asks with shining eyes. I couldn't get any words to reply him. Cause I was overwhelmed seeing the drawing. I didn't expect him to draw my eyes this beautifully. He has drawn the pupils so carefully. Perfect light blue irises with dark blue flakes and sapphire rings surrounding it, glowing in the light. The dark long eyelashes are traced perfectly and the curve of the eyes is magnificent. It looks original. It's so perfect.

Jo accepted the paper gently, unfolding it with careful fingers. At first glance, it looked like a simple child’s drawing: messy lines, smudged colors. But the longer Jo stared, the colder her blood ran. It was a drawing of a massive wolf, dark and powerful, kneeling under a broken moon. Its silver eyes were hollow and sad, its paws chained to the ground by thick black tendrils. Beside it, a man, tall, crowned, broken, stood slumped over, clutching his chest as blood spilled from his side.

He climbed onto the sofa beside her and opened the notebook. Crayon lines filled the page. Bright colors. Simple shapes. But the drawing was recognizable. Three stick figures stood side by side beneath a large sun. Evelyn had seen similar drawings from him before. Usually the same three figures. A woman. A child. And a tall man with darker shading around the eyes. Silas held the notebook proudly. “Do you like it?” Evelyn forced a soft smile. “It’s beautiful.” He studied the picture carefully. Then pointed to the tallest figure.

Already complete in Seren's mind, already drawn into existence with grey crayon eyes and careful capital letters, already true in the way things were true for her daughter before the adults around her had finished deciding whether they were allowed to be. Seren emerged from her bedroom at six forty ,she had been quiet since Nia got home, which was unusual enough to be its own communication and stood in the kitchen doorway looking at her mother looking at the drawing. "Do you like it?" she said. "I love it." Nia looked up. "Come here." Seren came and climbed into her lap with the familiar boneless ease and looked at the drawing from this new angle with the assessing attention of an artist rev

You've even remembered our promise to plant a cherry tree behind my tombstone. Her sweet display of affection was extremely effective on Samuel. He showed her the crystal box in his hands and said, "I didn't just set up your tombstone. I've also brought you Louise's eyes. I was going to bury them in your grave." My lifeless eyes stared at the two of them from inside the crystal box. Daeleen only took a look at them for a moment before quickly looking away. "Oh my God, Samuel! You've always been so nice to me. Is Louise okay? Is she in any pain?"