Elizabeth Afton Drawing Novels & Stories

And I wonder if Diana knew about all this. But aside from the words that Cortèz said last night, I am also bothered about America’s drawings from years ago. She drew the Pacific Beach, the lighthouse which was in great detail, the beach house and the sketches of the gang. Even if they didn’t have any faces on her drawing, I knew it was us because the shirts that we have worn that night were the same clothes on America’s sketch. It was indescribably creepy because how in hell was she able to dream about all of it from years ago?

Elsa's eyes landed on me and my heart skipped a beat of what she was about to say. “Is …she?” I choked on my words. “She is still alive but we have to hurry.” I breathe a sigh of relief at her words. Irene came back with a piece of paper and a pen and passed it to Elsa, Elsa took it, placed it on the table and muttered a word,the pen by itself started drawing a sketch and soon there was a painting. “Do you have any idea where this is?” Elsa asked Irene when she was done. Irene took the paper and checked it, her eyes shut as if trying to remember where she had seen the house from.

Lines that led away from roads and towards stories. A boy gestured. "That's where Ate Lilet spent three days waiting for her brother." Another contributed, "This is where we sneaked up to sleep." Elira observed the children write memory by name. No border. No legend. Only here, and also here, and we were there together. A woman touched her shoulder. "Will these drawings be included in your document?" Caelan replied before Elira could. "They are the document." --- 9:06 AM – Ferrer Foundation Office, Mapping Table

Ellie sent the drawing on a Sunday evening in the third week of December. Not a scan this time — a photograph of the sketchbook page, taken in the kitchen of her house, the page flat on the table. He could see the edge of the table and the sleeve of her jumper at the margin of the image, the kitchen light above, the drawing in the centre. He looked at the photograph on his phone and then went to the desk and opened it on the screen. She had drawn the section from the south edge.

A few people came in and put down the drawings and so on. Closing the door, Jepherson handed the drawings to Raeleigh, who had just come out of the bathroom. Raeleigh sat down and picked up the drawing. She carefully looked at the frame of the building. After a while, she put down the drawing and leaned on it, thinking about something silently. She looked like a beautiful painting. With the intricate designs of the background, she looked like those beautiful and mysterious women in portraits, especially when she was lost in thought.

“You heard it, didn’t you?” Mara said nothing. Lena lifted his hand. Between her fingers she held a sheet of paper. Humid. Like it was in the water. Mara took it. It was a drawing. With pen. Child hand. Three figures by the sea. Mara. Lena. Jonas. And in the water, half under the waves, a fourth child. Little one. With gray eyes. Nora. But Nora had disappeared since yesterday. The authorities believed that she ran away from the nursing family.

Elizabeth stopped before a painting hanging above the fireplace. A landscape. Nothing unusual. "I remember." She pressed against the frame. Click. The painting swung open. Behind it... A small hidden safe appeared. Elena exchanged a glance with Adrian. "Another secret." Elizabeth smiled. "I learned from Damian." She entered the combination. The safe slowly opened. Inside... Rested a thick leather photo album. Untouched for decades. With trembling hands... Elizabeth placed it on the table. Everyone gathered around. She carefully turned the pages. Family photographs.

We were almost done when Eli appeared in the doorway in his coat and boots with a drawing clutched in both hands. “For the King,” he announced, and held it out to my father. Terence studied it with great seriousness. “Ah. This is excellent work.” “I know.” Eli turned and looked at me. “You can have one too if you want.” “I would love one.” He grinned, flashing two missing teeth right in front, and climbed up into the chair beside mine and pulled a folded piece of paper from his coat pocket. He smoothed it out on the table in front of me. It was a drawing of what I assumed was the village: a large yellow circle overhead, a building, and several stick figures standing outside it.

I froze at the door, my pulse hammering. Rita. My children. Ashton. And none of them even realized how out of place this was. Ashton glanced up then, and his eyes caught mine. For a second, his expression was unreadable, caught between different emotions, like amusement, caution, and something softer. He looked back down at Kate’s drawing. It was crude, childlike, full of mismatched colors. But clear enough: five little figures, hand-in-hand. A woman with long hair. A tall man with broad shoulders.