Cyclops Drawing Novels & Stories

Evelyn tapped the image. The picture filled the screen. Three stick figures stood beneath a bright sun drawn in uneven yellow crayon. One small figure stood in the center. Silas. On the left side of the page was a taller figure with long hair. Evelyn. On the right side was another tall figure. The man had dark hair and violet eyes colored in carefully with a purple crayon. Damian. But something about the drawing felt different from the ones Silas had made before. The two adult figures stood far apart from each other.

His human form seemed tragically diminished under the harsh reality of the flickering flames, his yellow eye glaring ominously. The cave vibrated with a sudden shrill ring, tearing through the terrified silence. We froze, not daring to move. The abrupt sound echoed menacingly along the rough stone terrain, its orchestra a heart-stopping alarm. The Cyclops, however, merely sighed and rose, his lumbering form casting gigantic shadows on the cavern walls. Karen's eyes went wide; the ring wasn't from our phones, but from the grotesque version of humanity in front of us. The Cyclops, devoid of expression, slid his hand into his pocket. He extracted a glittering device that looked absurdly small i

I pressed my lips to the top of his head, then ran my hand slowly through his hair as I did each morning. Strands of his hair came away between my fingers. My entire body quivered with fear as I pulled away from Kyle, hiding the hair strands in my fist. “What are you drawing?” I cleared my throat, fighting the tears clouding my vision. “I'm drawing a wolf.” Kyle answered seriously, tilting his sketchbook towards me. The wolf was dark and large, with glinting silver eyes. It was ironic that he was drawing a wolf, while completely unaware of his werewolf heritage.

I explained, finding it crazy to use Cyclops out of all mythological characters. “That’s crazy,” he scoffed, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Why would you go with a Cyclops? Poseidon maybe? Or Zeus? Or maybe stupid Cupid.” I snorted and tilted my head. “That’s my point, Aiden. I still don’t remember the guy who knocked me up.”

"It's missing both ears." I watch as he picks up the stick this time and makes on the sand, two medium sized 'c's on both sides of the drawing. We both tilt our heads to the left at the same time and stare at the drawing on the sand. One of the eyes are way bigger than the other and the nose seems to be falling out of proportion, the shape of the head looks like that of an amoeba while the ears he just drew isn't fully connected to the face. "I think it's phenomenal," He says.

Near the center of each gruesome face sits one big, bloodshot eye. I’ve read about cyclops in books, but they’ve never sported two heads like this one. I don’t know if this thing is simply a mutant or if it came through from There through an Anomaly, and I guess it doesn’t really matter. What matters is the hungry way the beast is looking at me, and the two giant wooden clubs—made from tree branches thicker than my torso—that he’s brandishing as if they were mere twigs.

Meaning that, he belong to the rarest being in the Fantasma perhaps, a Hybrid Cyclops. Nowdays in Fantasma, the giant race has been deem lost, they are very rare. Cyclops are even more hard to find. Just like in the Greek mythology, Cyclops in Fantasma was a member of a savage one eyed giant, known for their giant stature, unbelievable strength and prowess. But, within the High Human ancient records, Most of the giant race, they were in contrary to their savage looks, their personality is very gentle and friendly.

There was a loud silence as everyone was captivated by the intricate design of the painting. It was a complex drawing of a beast that had four heads. Heads that look like a mixture of wolf and man and each head having different eye colors. Bright blue ocean eyes like spirit. Red bloody eyes like flames of anger A golden yellow eyes like jealousy and lust and lastly silver, gray eyes like a plague of death. The heads shared one body with two arms and legs but it had four separate tails with three tails moderately lengthy while the fourth one which is the tail in the middle was significantly longer than the rest and the background was pitch dark like the darkest night.

She was somewhere around seven or eight, completely absorbed in whatever she was drawing, her tongue pressed to the corner of her mouth in concentration. I lowered myself carefully into a chair near her, mindful of my ribs, and looked at the paper. The drawing was full. Not in a crowded way, in a deliberate way, like she had a clear picture in her head and was working her way across the page with intention. There was a dragon in the top left, red and blocky with impressive teeth. Below it, a woman in a red cape with a pointed hat on a flying broom, carefully coloured with a orange crayon. To the right of that, something with fangs and a dark cape that I was fairly certain was meant to be a v

We are slightly faster than cheetahs when we put our minds to it and at this moment my people were being slaughtered. My mind was fully on this. The cyclops flared its huge nostril picked up a piece of debris from the ground and flung it at me. I leaped to the side a second before the chunk of land hit me. “You die!!!” it yelled out in annoyance. “No, you die!!!” I flung the rod with so much force I heard a loud pop from my shoulder. The iron pierced his iris and escaped out of the other side of his head. The monstrous beast staggered for a moment before falling on its back. I felt the earth shake underneath my feet at the impact of his fall.