Encouraging Drawings Novels & Stories

Then her eyes widened. She beamed. "You want me to teach you?" "I do." "Drawing is hard, you know. Mama says everyone needs to try hard and be patient with the process." "I am ready to try hard." Maya put her small hand on his shoulder. "Fine, Mr. Vance. But do not ever protest if you get tired of it. And your drawing might not be good at first. I warn you. Drawing is not easy. You may fail. But don't be sad, okay?"

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.

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.

"What's it, sweetie?" Saben pushed the paper in her face. "Look! I did this for you! Sabrina took the paper, her heart softening at the sight. It was a drawing of their family—stick figures with big smiles, holding hands. Above them was a bright yellow sun, and beside them was a dog that Saben often talked about wanting. “It’s beautiful, Saben,” Sabrina said, pulling him into a hug. “You’re such a talented artist!” Benedict walked over and crouched beside them, ruffling Saben's hair to give him an occasional genuine but rare smile. "You did this all on your own, buddy?"

Inside it, the first thing I saw was a picture of the kids and I, it looked so beautiful, it brought tears to my eyes, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling, I tried not to look at their pictures, the frame I brought with me still sat in the bag I brought along with me. Next was the bracelets, pretty coloured bracelets, Vincent made them well, he got it so well, I couldn’t help but shed more tears as I felt so proud of him. Then, the last thing in it was an envelope. Carefully, I took the envelope out. It was roughly folded, telling me the boys made it. I opened to see colourful irregular drawings, courtesy of Xavier, It made me smile, a very big smile. Going through the drawings, just rand

A feeling that made everything lighter. Moments later, Nico stepped forward with his own drawing. A dragon, fierce and bold, with purple scales and sharp red eyes. Flames burst from its mouth in uneven streaks of orange. “Thank you,” I told him as well. He tried to suppress his reaction, but the corner of his lips betrayed him, lifting into a small, proud smile. And in that moment, standing there with their drawings in my hands, something inside me shifted. Deeply. Dangerously. I felt… blessed.

he teased. I laughed—just a little. Later, Luca handed me a drawing pad and colored pencils. “Here. When words are hard, draw instead. It helps.” That night, I drew a wolf curled in a corner, wrapped in shadows, but with one small beam of light shining through the window. That light was shaped like Killian. I didn’t show anyone. Not yet. A few days passed. I kept trying. Talking in bits. Writing down short thoughts. Drawing more. Every time Killian entered the room, my heart jumped—but not out of fear. I started waiting for him. Watching the door. Listening to his footsteps.

Still here, I said softly. Eli made a small satisfied sound and leaned back against my chest and looked at the room from this new vantage point with the calm interest of someone who had upgraded their view and approved of the change. I looked at the drawings above the bed. Marker on paper in the bold oversaturated colours of someone who had been given a full set and had used all of them. Shapes that suggested things rather than depicting them. A large yellow circle that was probably the sun and possibly also a face. Several figures of varying sizes that may have been people or animals or both. What appeared to be a house. What appeared to be something flying.

Emma felt a familiar warmth in her chest as she moved from one child to another, offering encouragement and admiring their work. A girl named Sophie, who had been particularly quiet that day, tugged at Emma’s sleeve. “Miss Emma,” she said shyly, holding up a drawing of a tree with colorful birds perched on its branches. “Do you think it’s good?” Emma knelt beside her, studying the drawing with genuine admiration. “I think it’s beautiful, Sophie,” she said. “The colors you chose are so vibrant, and the way you made the birds look so happy it’s perfect.”

Mercedes' POV “Can I see?” I asked Carter who shrieked and hud his paper behind his back. “Carter what's wrong? You've been drawing for hours, can I see?” I asked again but the little boy shook his head. “Why not?” I inquired. “I'm not yet done,” he replied. “Carter never shows me his drawings and he laughs at mine.” Penelope pouted as she rose her paper and showed me her drawing. There were four stickmen, two bigger ones on either side while two smaller ones stood in the middle smiling as they held their hands together.