Edgar Haircut Drawing Novels & Stories

A thought, a fear, a truth I wasn’t ready to face. That was when the door opened. Edgar stepped in. He looked different today. His hair was neatly tied back, his coat black as night. His eyes landed first on Lyra, sharp and assessing. Then on me. Then on the pile of books scattered across the table. His expression didn’t change, but something in the air did. “Studying?” he asked, voice low and deceptively calm. “Yes,” I said. “Lyra was helping me understand—”

She stood on the staircase, fingers clenched tightly around the railing. "Mom, did you draw this?" Edward held up an A4 sheet of paper high in the air. On it was a drawing of a blue-eyed young man. Joan's eyes lit up. She scolded him loudly, "That belongs to Adriana. Give it back to Adriana right now." She recognized the guy in the drawing—it was Adriana's former boyfriend. "Adriana, Edward took your drawing by accident. I'm sorry."

Her beautiful, wild silver hair spills over several pieces of parchment. I reach out, my fingers sliding one of the sheets from beneath her forearm. It is a sketch of a sleek, aerodynamic shoulder pad for a professional hockey player, but she has modified the collar to fit the heavy, thick neck of a shifted wolf. The lines are precise, sharp, and dripping with raw talent.

Lucian Voss I was still holding the paper in my hand long after the door closed behind me. I didn’t even realize it at first, but my fingers had tightened around it like I was afraid of letting it go. It was a child’s drawing, done in crayon, the lines uneven and rough. There were three stick figures. One tall figure was labeled “Mr. Lucian.” The next was a woman with long hair, drawn with wide strokes and labeled “Mama.” Between them stood a small boy with messy curls and a wide smile. He had no label because I didn’t need one.

It was an idealized image, but it was definitely supposed to be her. The drawing had long hair, feminine features, and every last detail and imperfection right down to her slightly-too-long nose and the exact shape of her cupid’s bow. Her head was turned to the side, revealing her neck. Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach when she saw the series of small scars on her skin.

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.