Eddie Munson Drawings Novels & Stories

Anabel put down the drawing, picked up the lipstick and rubbed it on, and asked, "Babe, does this color look good?" Edward glanced at her, and put a kiss on her lips, "Good-looking." Anabel went to pick up her bag, Edward's eyes fell on the design draft and asked, "This is what you drew?" "Yeah." Anabel hurriedly put the manuscript in her bag, "Let's go." Edward always felt that the manuscript was a bit familiar, but he couldn't remember where he had seen it.

But they all grabbed a marker pen and started drawing anywhere they could reach. They all seemed to know what they were drawing. When they finished drawing their individual pictures, they went to a larger blank wall. Where Max drew a big circle, Eden then drew a slightly smaller circle inside of it. Before Jaxon drew some lines connecting the circles. It made it look a little like a clock. But Eden added some wavy lines at the bottom of it. When they finished, they went to a sofa, curled up with Evie and cried. I looked at their pictures. Max had drawn a man’s shaver but with small lightening bolts coming off it, Jaxon had drawn a bucket and Eden had drawn a knife.

“It’s not much. Just a sketch.” Ethan took the paper from me and opened it. I watched with anticipation, feeling my heart rate quicken as he carefully studied my drawing. It was the same drawing that I had been working on in my bedroom the night that Edrick told me about the WereCorp wages: a drawing of the cityscape from the view of my balcony at the penthouse. “Moana,” he finally said after a few moments, “this is stunning. You didn’t mention that you could draw this well.”

I had to be the one to collect the cash they had to pay before taking a picture. As I'm handing out a couple of their changes, Bryson and Elena approached me. Bryson was handsomely dressed in his black tuxedo, black tie, with a white inner shirt, an expensive silver watch, and shiny leather shoes, while Elene was attired in a mini dress and heels. Her dark pixie hair is styled in curls, and her makeup is beautifully done. "2 dollars for a pic," I said quickly, keeping my eyes on the floor flashing with red lights as Elena glared at me.

‘That wasn’t a problem’ he thought as he took orders from Big Joe; a regular there who did nothing but drink and tell stories of his past days as a soldier. As she sat at her reading desk to draft the letter, Ira had no doubts whatsoever that she would get this job. Opening her e-mail account on the laptop set before her, she set down to writing her letter appealing for the post of a secretary in Serene; one of the biggest electronic companies in the world owned by none other than the influential Drew family.

So, who could it be? Her breath hitched. It was a drawing. Crayon lines, childish and uneven, but unmistakable. Four stick figures holding hands: two adults and two kids. The colors are bright. She pressed a hand over her mouth. Tears burned her eyes as the world tilted for a second. She rushed out of the nursery, her heart pounding, and grabbed her phone from her handbag on the dining table. Her fingers shook as she scrolled through her contacts. When she finally pressed Eddie’s name, her throat tightened.

I could see him coming up now. "Daddy quick come and see what I drew" Edward shouted aloud. I guess he also saw him from afar. "Really I'll be right there son" Jones said smiling at me. He got to us and sat closer to me. "Let's see it" he said and Edward gave him the paper. "Wow" Jones said and I smiled at the work my son did. He draw a family more like us. "This is you daddy and mummy and me and Edwin. " He said identifying it with his little finger.

Dieter stood a few feet from the drawing and hugged herself. Edward received acclaim for the first time, so he was even more inspired. He moved his painting room into another room. He asked people to break down the door so that everyone could see what he was doing with his other great works. Opposite the empty door, Edward hung his drawing of the demon's eye.

I felt immense peace, thanks to Edward and the medicine he gave me. “Are you ready for another session?” Edward asked one day. I nodded vigorously and dropped the crayons he had given me, then held a drawing I had been working on for him behind my back before running up to him with a childlike grin on my face. “I’m ready,” I said. Edward peered over my shoulder to see what I was holding behind my back. “What’s that you’ve got there, Nina?” I grinned even wider and held the drawing out for him to see.

Marcus was looking at it when she found him. He was in his shirtsleeves. The rolled drawings under one arm — the original drawings, Edward's pencil lines, the ones James had kept for forty years in a wooden box at the end of a private road. He had been carrying them everywhere since she delivered them. Not because he needed to reference them constantly. Because the act of carrying them was its own form of something she understood but would not name without his permission. "He's coming at ten," she said. "I know," Marcus said. "Howard Chen told me."