Grandma Drawing Novels & Stories

Grandpa Scott held the torn pieces of the drawing paper in his hand and threw them into the trash. "I'm going to take a nap. I'm exhausted." Bianca hugged her drawing supplies and walked back to her room. After hearing the door close, Francesco's Adam's apple moved slightly. When he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse. "What do they look like?" "See for yourself." Grandpa Scott opened his phone gallery. On the screen was a secretly photographed image of the drawing. Bianca was good at drawing, and her skills were impressive. The two babies she had drawn looked adorable.

I say closing my eyes, waiting for the shouting. "Oh, hell no, I am not letting some little boy fresh out of leather pants school, dictate where I'm going to go every day." Grandma says rising form her chair. She is sporting another of her famous moo moo's which she swears allows her to move around quicker. This one has a black and white zebra print design all over it.

She’d taken an interest in drawing lately, and it had stuck more than her previous interests had. But then again, she’s only five. There was plenty of time for her to find herself yet. “This is me, this is Mommy, this is Daddy, this is you Uncle Kells, and Aunt Gemi, Simon, Sawyer and Sadie,” she frowns. “I couldn’t draw Uncle Haden and Aunt Gemi big, so they are small.” She points to the smaller figures at the side. I notice another figure drawn in between Lucy and the figure who is supposed to be me, smaller than everyone and beaming.

What is she planning? "Sasha?" I shouted. Suddenly a flash of light fell up on me. I looked at my surroundings. At one particular place,there are canvasses on which some paintings were pasted. They are my pencil sketches. I went closer to them. Those are the drawings of my whole family along with my dad and grandpa. I still remember,I was four when I drew them. It is Cayden who kept them all after my mother passed. In another sketch,there is just Cayden and me. Those are the same drawings that typical kids would do. A stick like limbs attached to a thin human body. I didn't colour them. Another light flashed and another row of canvasses made appearance.

Hope you're all well. *Love,* *Grandma Margaret* *P.S. Edward is learning to use email. It's not going well. Send help.* Katie loved the cards. She taped them to her wall. She started writing back, little notes in her messy kid handwriting. *Dear Grandma Margaret,* *Thank you for the card. My sweater is still sparkly. Mom washed it and it didn't die. School is boring but art class is fun. I drew a horse. It looked like a dog but that's okay.*

I asked. "You. Daddy. Me." She pointed. "And that's the sun. And that's a flower. And that's—" She frowned at the corner of the page. "That's a lady. I don't know her name." I looked at the figure she'd added. A fourth stick figure, off to the side, watching. Something caught in my throat. "That's your grandmother," I said quietly. "Clara. The one you're named after." Clara studied the drawing. "She's watching us?"

"They can no longer tell the stories I see. But your hands... they are young. They are hungry." ​Tobi reached out, tentatively touching a stick of 'Burnt Sienna.' ​"If the sand in your throat won't let the words out," Grandpa whispered, leaning in close, "let the colors shout for you. Don't just draw what you see, Tobi. Draw how it sounds. Draw how it feels to be the only one listening." ​Tobi took the charcoal. He looked at the mango tree, then at his Grandpa. He didn't say thank you with his voice, but his eyes sparkled with a sudden, electric clarity.

“Nooo, I’m being super good! We made cookies today—chocolate chip, your favorite! Grandpa burned some, though. He said a bad word, and I told him he owes me a dollar.” I grinned, picturing Emerson’s sheepish face, his kitchen disasters legendary. “Oh, you got him good, huh? You saving those dollars for something special?” “Yup!” she said, her voice conspiratorial. “I’m gonna buy a new art set, the one with all the sparkly paints. But, Mommy, you gotta come home soon, ‘cause I need you to draw with me. Grandpa’s drawings are terrible.” “Hey, be nice to Grandpa,” I teased, my heart swelling. “He’s trying. What else is new, baby? Tell me everything.”

“I always wondered about it. Even before any of this. It just felt like it meant something, even when I didn’t know what.” Cloe looked at the drawing properly now, at the house, at the careful row of figures, and felt something settle into place, slow and enormous, the way everything had settled this week. “Priya,” she said gently. “Do you know how old your grandmother was when she drew this.” “There’s a date on the back,” Priya said. “She was seven.” “Seven,” Cloe repeated softly. She looked at Dave. “Dave. How old were you when you drew your first chair plan.”

I suggested as I held the board to myself. “Hey, You worked so hard to draw that, you should at least let him see what you did.” Jeremy smiled at me and encouraged while glaring at the elderly man that just spoke to me. “Yes, Bring it. I will be the one to judge that since it is my drawing.” Grandpa Haven smiled at me as I took the board and walked over to his side and then placed it in front of him where he could see it. Everyone gathered and looked at the drawing, I stood there with my heart trying to beat out of my chest, while I really hoped that he would like it. Only if the ground can open up and swallow e saving me from this predicament.