Eyelashes Drawing Novels & Stories

My cheeks flush red as soon as I imagine Elia smiling back at me; making me tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. There is also a makeup kit in the box which I guess he wants me to look pretty decent. I sit down on the bed, eyeing myself from the makeup table before starting my makeup. Using a makeup brush to lightly add some foundation to my face—so that it would match my whole skin tone. Then, I draw a small line with the eyeliner before curling my lashes and contour my face I finish off with a nude coloured lipstick—which enhances my blue eyes.

Araeya and Kieran, Elaeya’s father, also provided blood. She started to sing again as she mixed it, then went to Elaeya, gave her the bowl to hold, and used it to draw a long line on her forehead, then to her chin, and she added a few others on her forehead and cheeks, and two long lines at the top of her shoulders going down her arms. Then Elaeya went to all of us in order of seniority to draw a line that started between the eyebrows and went up mid forehead. She came to me last and once she did the first line added three on my chin.

After much mental battle, he pulls the hair from her face, and there comes the beauty on his bed, his eyes pop from his socket. He traced her face with his finger, like he was drawing her, then used his pollex to caress her eyebrows and then her slipping eyelashes that were long and straight.

It was a crayon drawing. Although it was messy, you could tell what she drew. Elowen had drawn two figures holding hands. One was a tiny girl in a pink dress. The other was a taller woman with long dark hair, wearing a suit. Above their heads, she had drawn a massive blue ocean with giant cargo ships floating in the water. She had drawn herself and Tyla Avery. I stared at the wrinkled paper for a long time after everyone else had gone to bed. Tyla had mentioned she had a child of her own.

She moved quickly but her deliberate strokes gave me the impression that she was creating a plan or a vision specifically for me. Then the eyes. To create a warm smoky effect Monica applied a delicate golden shimmer to my eyelids and blended it into a rich deep brown. She created the ideal cat-eye flick by applying a thin line of eyeliner along my upper lash line and I hardly recognized the face in the mirror. The next step was mascara which darkened my lashes and gave my eyes a pop I hadnt seen in a long time.

He had found a pad of paper and a dull pencil in a kitchen drawer. He was drawing. I stood in the doorway, my breath catching in my throat. I didn't want to disturb him. I watched the way his hand moved—it was fluid, confident, but with that slight, human tremor he had inherited from the resonance. He finished the sketch and turned the paper toward the light. It wasn't a blueprint. It wasn't a map. It was a drawing of a single, wild iris growing out of a crack in a rock. It was messy. The lines were unoptimized. It was, in every sense of the word, imperfect.

he murmurs. I pull back a little, so I can study his face. Using my finger, I softly start tracing the outline of one perfectly sculpted black eyebrow and then the other. I follow the line down his straight and perfect nose. Then circling a beautiful blue-green eye, thickly fringed with black eyelashes.

With careful precision, I applied the glistening pigment to my lids, layering and blending until the colors melded seamlessly. Each stroke of the brush was a deliberate movement, a symphony of artistry that brought my eyes to life. I then turned to the delicate arches that framed my face, my eyebrows, seeking to give them definition and structure. With a brow pencil in hand, I gently traced their natural shape, filling in any sparse areas with feathery strokes. It was a meticulous process, ensuring that every line was symmetrical and precise, creating a harmonious balance that enhanced my overall appearance. A touch of mystique awaited me in the form of eyeliner, a tool that had the power to

I’d hardly taken any notes today, in fact, but as I’d been thinking, I’d been drawing mindlessly, too. Scrawled on my page in smudged black biro was my own face. I’d barely registered drawing it. It was cartoony, with lips that were even bigger than my real ones, and doe eyes that were looking up at nothing. My lashes were long, casting spider-leg shadows down my cheeks. One side of my face was dark, and the other was shining in the light. I scribbled over it, forcing my pen so firmly into the paper that it began to tear. My vision became blurred as I dragged the pen through the notepad, and then I jumped when a hand was laid on my arm.

Meeting Richard had been a stroke of luck, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that my luck could run out at any moment. I had to be meticulous, calculated. Richard wasn’t a fool, and if he ever suspected me, it would be the end of everything. I moved on to the eyeliner, using the sharp tip to draw faint lines that mimicked scratches and shallow cuts. I pressed lightly, ensuring the lines looked realistic but not overly dramatic. Stepping back, I examined my handiwork in the mirror. "Not bad," I murmured, tilting my head to the side. "It’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do."