Flower Crayon Novels & Stories

Is he flirting with me ? " What's wrong ?", he asked as I fiddled with the pencils in my hand. " Ahmm..mine is Faber Castel Poly..c..chromos pencils. It's q..quality is good. Maybe you buy it and try.", I said. He smiled. " No matter whichever paint I use and how hard I try, I won't be able to draw your beautiful baby blue eyes as beautifully as they are.", he said. " E..Ethan, stop s..saying such things.", I chided.

Arjun said standing up again making her eyes shine in happiness. (Translation: Wait, I have better crayons than that. I'll give them to you.) "Colour?" She asked him excitedly forgetting all the gloominess away. (Translation: Crayons?) "Haan colour." He said confirming her words and went back to his study table. (Translation: Yes crayons.) Rummaging through the study table's lowest drawer he fished out a new packet of crayons and walked back to the bed handing her the packet. She looked at him innocently wanting to know if she could colour with them.

They chose to sit on the back porch and enjoy the morning that was turning into noon. "Can you draw?" Shareeza asked as she opened a crayon box with too many colors. Alethea was surprised and impressed when she saw it. During school, she had only been able to use a 12-color pencil set, and those were short. Even when she went to a bookstore, the largest set she'd seen was 48 colors. But Shareeza's? Rich people really were different, Alethea thought to herself in awe.

"I know darling I'm sorry she's not here anymore, but you are allowed to have another mummy if you want." Katie finished with the blue crayon sliding it back into the packet. "Auntie Andrea said she wouldn't come back," she perused the crayons and picked a yellow one for the next claw. Gabriel watched as she stuck her tongue between her lips as she concentrated on not going over the outline. "I don't want her to come back."

I looked up at the boy who was adorable with golden-brown hair and large silver eyes that kind of glinted like pearls in the moonlight. “W-what’s a Crayola?” I asked. He blinked, “It’s a crayon, dummy.” He answered waving a flat white board at me. He pointed at it. “I was drawing.” His palm was still open; the weapons or as he called them crayons were in different colors. Red, Yellow, Green… Humans sure had interesting stuff on the land. The boy was putting it back into the box when his little handles fumbled and the box emptied into the water.

"No, it's mine. I want it." A small cry escapes the raven hair girl as she struggles with the boy next to her over the crayon. I quickly spot them from my spot at the other crafts table, taking quick steps to reach them. "Hey, hey, calm down." I squat down to their level, placing myself in their direct eye sight. "What's wrong?" "Gracie won't give me the crayon I want!" The little boy cries, clearly frustrated at not getting what he wants. "It's mine. I got it first." Gracie is on the verge of tears, pressing the blue crayon close to her chest to avoid it being taken from her. "It's not fair." She huffs.

Still with Summer in my arms, I walked inside the condo while she regaled me with stories about her day. "Mommy, guess what?" Summer chirped as she gripped my collar. "At school, Leo took the blue crayon but I wanted the blue crayon to draw a big blue horse, but Miss Honey said we have to share, so I used the purple one instead. And the purple horse looked way cooler anyway!" "A purple horse? That sounds beautiful, sweetie," I commented, carrying her into the kitchen and setting her down on one of the barstools. "And what did you have for lunch?"

Luna’s crayon masterpiece had teeth. Literal ones. Lyra stood in the doorway of the pediatric playroom, a styrofoam cup of terrible coffee in one hand, and took in the scene: half the far wall was now occupied by a mural constructed from taped-up paper sheets. In thick, determined strokes of purple and blue, a lopsided wolf with a very large mouth was biting a stick-figure with a suspiciously crown-like shape on its head. Next to it, a smaller wolf—silver scribbles for eyes—held a heart.

replied Frost anyways. “I also want some crayons,” Aino added. Crayons? That would not be as easy to find. The reason why the Ford family always had drawing paper lying around was because Old Master Henry enjoyed drawing when he was free, while her Uncle Sean also liked to paint sceneries. Yet, there were no children in the Ford family, so who would be using crayons? Even if no one did, Frost managed to find another way. She immediately called for one of the servants and handed over five one hundred buck bills as she ordered, “Go, buy the best crayons for the little princess as fast as you can. Make sure there are lots of colors.”

“I want the green one—it’s mine!” “No, it’s not yours! I had it first!” Ola, a little girl I’d met earlier, was clutching a green crayon to her chest while another child tried to grab it. I walked over, crouching so I was eye-level with them. “What’s wrong?” “Ola won’t give me the crayon I wanted,” the boy said, his face scrunched in frustration. “It’s mine,” Ola sniffled, clearly on the verge of tears.