Edgar Haircut Drawing Novels & Stories

It was all temporary until he’d figured out what he would do next. “Bad? No! Is that all you’re changing? Alright, who is she?” “There’s no one. I just figured I’d see what I looked like under it. I can always grow it back. Think I should get a haircut too? I was just thinking I might do that when I eat lunch.” Eddie rubbed his chin, and he grinned at his brother. He couldn’t hold back the laughter. Donny followed suit after him. Once he got himself under control, he patted Eddie’s shoulder and stated, “Hey whatever makes you happy. What are you doing today?”

If I had just have accepted the king mom would still be here. “He drew this…” Richard drew my attention to him, as he held a piece of paper out for me to see, a crayon drawing rested on it. It was quite good actually. “He’s a little artist in the making.” On the paper was a drawing of a a girl with dark hair, she had been given muscles, and her hair was tied in a ponytail that sat right at the top of her head, much like a unicorn horn which made me chuckle with tears still flowing. Is that really how Freddie viewed me? He saw me as this amazing, powerful superhero?

Jade screamed angrily, tearing out and crumpling up a sheet of paper from her sketchbook. She threw it across the room and it landed on the floor close to the door, increasing the litter of crumpled paper and broken pencils in the room. She took a new pencil from behind her ears, her fingers shaky as she began to draw lines and curves, in readiness for another sketch. Closing her eyes, she tried to picture a face, Tiger's face - that was what they called him but she knew his name began with the letter H.

I shrugged anyway, the message had been sent and a reply had been received, so the journey begins anyway. I met Edgar at the foot of the stairs, wrapped up in an expensive cream coloured tuxedo and his black silky hair combed behind his back. "Are you prepared?" I asked as I approached him. Edgar took a good look at himself before replying, "Well I'm all dressed up and ready to go, I don't know what being prepared is if it isn't all this. He smoothed his hand down along his shirt while I shook my head at him with a pursed lip.

_______________ The image popped in her head, causing her to bolt from her chair. “I need a pencil! Anybody got a pencil? It's really urgent” she yelled. “I got a pencil, Hadassah” Jemma, her co-worker answered, tossing the pencil to her. “Thanks Jemma” Hadassah smiled as she caught the pencil. She rushed to her seat and frantically scribbled and doodled a rough sketch of the face that came to her mind. It wasn't exactly clear as she was terrible at sketching, she always had been. But she remembered the stitch scar on the right side of the man's unusually white face, his red eyes, browless face and death glare.

I mumbled to myself as I raked my fingers through my hair. “Hey, can I help?” The deep baritone of the bane of my existence wafted into my ears from behind, causing me to flap my eyes shut, as my temples pounded with a looming headache. Squeezing my eyes open, I threw him an expressionless look. “No, it's fine. I can manage.” Huffing, Eduardo walked up to me in a casual outfit, consisting of a pair of black sweatpants with a black tank top, leaving his big, toned muscles on shameless display.

I was a Saint to my mom and a slut to the men in my life. I grabbed my sketchbook and a charcoal stick. I didn't plan it. I just started scratching at the paper, the black dust staining my fingers. I drew myself not the pretty version. I drew a boy with his chest ripped open, screaming into a void. I drew giant, jagged hawks with Chadwick’s eyes and Miguel’s tattoos, literal pieces of my flesh hanging from their beaks. I pressed so hard the charcoal snapped, tearing the paper. It was the only way I could scream.

Ed inquired as he bent down to examine his head. Ruby tried to pull away, but Ed’s hand was faster. He parted Ruby’s hair at the spot and saw a red mark among the roots. “What’s this?” Ed asked.

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.

I was just about to call after her - to tell her that we weren't done talking when she returned, clutching a stack of papers between her fingers. She crossed the room to where I was standing and held it out to me. "I wouldn't be so sure about that." I took the papers and began flipping through them - fast at first, but slower and slower when I realized what I was looking at. Drawings that Tate did. Various drawings of himself playing with other pups, drawings of the two of us with the rest of the pack, drawings of the two of us as a family with a faceless father figure, and finally, a drawing of a pack with a lone pup standing off to the side with drooped ears and a hanging tail.