Drawing Stuff Novels & Stories

Chapter 241 THEO The drawing happened by accident. It was after school, in the hour before dinner when I usually did homework or read or sorted the dinosaur collection according to whichever system I was using that week. I had my pencil in my hand because I had been going to finish the ankylosaurus from two nights ago, the one I had been working on when the dream came. I looked at the page. The ankylosaurus was half-finished, the body roughly right, the tail club still needing work. I had a reference picture propped against the lamp that I had been using to get the proportions correct.

God. Everything was fine. Fair. Until the last page. Reasonable honestly. Then she froze. God. Because there was a drawing. Fair. A brand new drawing. Reasonable. Not hers. God. Definitely not hers. Fair. Just scribbles. Reasonable honestly. Lots of scribbles. God. Then one tiny stick figure. Fair. Then another tiny stick figure. Reasonable. Then a tiny circle. God. Everyone stared. Fair. Then Peanut pointed proudly.

Tabitha’s POV We take turns sketching across the stone wall, passing the marker back and forth. We layer over each other’s drawings like we’re trying to outdo the last. Reed snickers while drawing an alien with three eyes and a meteor shaped like a dick. And then, there’s also something he claims is a “space wolf,” which I honestly think is quite cute. It’s the only decent thing he drew. We keep laughing until my stomach hurts and I’m wiping tears from my eyes. I lean over the narrow window to catch my breath.

He said: "He means more people." We looked at him. He stirred the oatmeal. "He's been drawing more figures for three weeks," he said. "He draws five and then adds more." He paused. "He draws six." He paused. "And then seven." He paused. "Not randomly." He paused. "He draws the family and then he draws more of the family." He paused. "He's documenting what he thinks is coming." He turned from the stove. He looked at us. At me.

I say before I can stop the words vomiting from my mouth. "Fuck you." Her body sinks into the bed and I begin rubbing my special combination of coconut oil and shea butter deep into her skin. I use the combo so my needle doesn't hang up on dry skin. When her flesh is supple, I step on the pedal, dip my needle into a cup of dimension black, and bend my wrist. My mind turns to the art like a switch flicking on and lighting a room. My brain focuses on lines and swirls. Color and shading now fill my world and it's time to allow it free reign. I begin with decisive lines and work on an area about twelve inches long. I never listen to music when inking. The hum of the Dragonfly X2 is my music and

But I wasn’t the type to be easily intimidated. “Then make your own version,” I finally said. “Let’s see who does it better.” Aaric smiled with triumph. “Challenge accepted.” He stepped away from the concrete divider and crouched down, pulling a black leather notebook from his backpack. With smooth, swift motions, he started drawing clean, precise lines—more mechanical than my free, emotional sketches. I watched every move, captivated despite myself.

A way of enjoying my solitude. The pencil scratched softly against the paper as I shaded the angles of his cheekbones, the dark fall of his hair, the slight furrow in his brow. I wasn’t as good as I used to be. My lines were shaky, the proportions slightly off, and it took me quite a few attempts to get his nose right. But as the drawing took shape, something inside me unclenched. I stared at the rough sketch of Elijah Lockwood. It still needed perfecting, but given that it had been years since I had last drawn something that was not charts, I felt pretty impressed with myself.

the man continued. Lucas thought for a while before replying, “Actually, this is not the only thing I can draw. I can also draw other things.” “Oh?” The man was baffled. He had not expected Lucas to not make way for them; he realized that the young man was not there to scribble a couple of dragons on the ground. “Then, I’d like to know. Besides those dragons and that bead, what else can you draw?” There was a playful look on the man’s face.

Jared said. "What other things apart from law do you like?" Astra asked. Jared took a deep breath as though it took a lot from him to talk out loud. "I like drawing," he said. Astra raised an eyebrow. "Drawing?" "Yes," he nodded. "Little sketches here and there, nothing special," he continued. Astra rolled her eyes at him. Leave it to Jared to underestimate himself. "I am pretty sure your drawings look phenomenal. You have to let me take a look at them some day, and perhaps draw me too," Astra said.

I always lock it before leaving the premises. “But I… Did I…” Brushing it off, I pull the mini door open, and yelp when a heap of papers rains on me as if waiting for me to open it all along. I stay still for a moment, just blinking at the drawings. They’re ugly exaggerated images of me; big head, messy hair, thin legs… I’m as tiny as a doll, while a big guy towers over me, his pants down, and I’m choking on his… What?! My heart drops.