Fluffy Hair Drawing Novels & Stories

If I had just have accepted the king mom would still be here. “He drew this…” Richard drew my attention to him, as he held a piece of paper out for me to see, a crayon drawing rested on it. It was quite good actually. “He’s a little artist in the making.” On the paper was a drawing of a a girl with dark hair, she had been given muscles, and her hair was tied in a ponytail that sat right at the top of her head, much like a unicorn horn which made me chuckle with tears still flowing. Is that really how Freddie viewed me? He saw me as this amazing, powerful superhero?

Lily asked. She looked at the drawing. She thought about Hong Kong and a hospital and an elephant called El. She thought about Ada with two kinds of tomatoes and a Sunday lunch still to come. She thought about a man on a plane and a kiss that had not been a question. "Yes," she said. "Everyone is okay." Lily looked at the drawing for a moment. Then he added a sixth figure at the very edge of the page. Small. With curly hair she did not recognise. "Who is that?" she said.

"Hey, kiddo." Her big blue eyes beam in happiness. "What are you drawing?" I ask, walking over to the abandoned paper she was working on moments before. She catches up to me taking my hand, she then leads me the rest of the way to the drawing. I pick up the picture and look it over, there's a yellow sun in the top corner with grey clouds around it. Towards the bottom is two people, both stick figures, ones taller with short hair and the others shorter with long hair. The two people are holding hands.

"Really good! I made a drawing today of you and me and Mama. Oh, and Grandpa too! Even though I don't know what he looks like yet, but I just imagined." I glanced at Alex with raised eyebrows. "Really? Can we see it?" "Of course you can! I worked super hard on it.” "I just hope you made me look so handsome in that picture, or else I'm gonna have to eat you up along with your drawing.” "Of course I did. I even made you really, really tall... like a giant tree!" Hailey giggled. Alex raised an eyebrow. "Like… a tree?" "Yeah! See?" She held up her drawing to the camera, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud. Alex was indeed drawn like a stick figure tree.

He drops his gaze to the books beside me, I take them in my lap, jerking my hair out his hands. I go through the pages and most of the answers are okay, just not excellently described. I close the books and set them aside, picking up my sketch to add more detail to the daisy considering it's the only part of the drawing that I have full confidence is art, the rest of the drawing? I think it will earn me an A- as usual. Wait, what if the snake shades it's skin as it slithers through the skull like the daisy shaded it's petals?

Simple and complex at the same time. Back in my room, I sat at my desk. The black-covered notebook was already open, a pencil beside it. I looked at the blank page for a few seconds and, without thinking too much, began to draw. The lines appeared almost by themselves. First, a feminine gaze, with long eyelashes. Then, the outline of a smiling mouth. My fingers kept moving, adding subtle details — a scarf over her shoulders, a book in her hands. It wasn't Giulia. Not exactly. But somehow, it seemed to have something of her in it.

She was somewhere around seven or eight, completely absorbed in whatever she was drawing, her tongue pressed to the corner of her mouth in concentration. I lowered myself carefully into a chair near her, mindful of my ribs, and looked at the paper. The drawing was full. Not in a crowded way, in a deliberate way, like she had a clear picture in her head and was working her way across the page with intention. There was a dragon in the top left, red and blocky with impressive teeth. Below it, a woman in a red cape with a pointed hat on a flying broom, carefully coloured with a orange crayon. To the right of that, something with fangs and a dark cape that I was fairly certain was meant to be a v

I began drawing according to what she wanted. In the drawings, Willow was in the middle, with Julian and me on either side of her. After finishing one book, Willow handed me the others as well. While I drew, she asked, "Mommy, can I change the color of my hair?" Kids loved experimenting, so of course, I encouraged her, "Sure." In each drawing, Willow had a different expression—sometimes smiling softly, other times laughing brightly. All of them radiated happiness. Once I was done, I handed the books back to Willow.

Holly shrugged. “And don’t worry, I plan on a more natural look. But, I think a little bit of smoky eye mixed with a good eyeliner, maybe some red lipstick...well that depends on your dress...” Flora started rambling on, coming up with her plan. Holly let her ramble. She was having fun. She could see the shape of the up-do Flora was creating and couldn’t wait to see the end result. Her dirty-blonde hair looked shiny and perfect. It almost didn’t look like her real hair, it was so lovely.

She was perched on a rickety wooden stool, her posture the perfect blend of absorption and grace—elbows braced on the scarred surface, chin tilted just so, one hand cradling a sketchbook while the other danced across the page with a stick of vine charcoal. Smudges dusted her knuckles like war paint, dark streaks blooming up her forearms where she'd absentmindedly wiped them. Her hair, that unruly cascade of chestnut waves, had slipped free from its loose ponytail, veiling half her face in a curtain of silk. She tucked it back with an impatient flick, revealing the soft curve of her cheek, the faint freckles dusting her nose like stars scattered by a careless god. Her lips were parted slightl