Inktober Drawing Novels & Stories

No one to soothe my back when I'm on edge. No one to tolerate all my bullshit, unconditionally. I struggle to my feet and head to the kitchen, looking for something to sober up. The moment I open the fridge, I freeze. Taped to the door is a crinkled drawing. A doodle Leo made when he was five. Three wolves. One big, one medium, one small. The big one is majestic and proud. The medium one is gentle and beautiful. The smallest one is hiding behind them. Underneath, in crooked letters: My Dad, Mom, and Me.

--- Meanwhile, at Wednesday's apartment, Ambelyn was experiencing an entirely different kind of afternoon. "And then Miss Chen let us paint during art class, and I made a picture of a T-Rex eating vegetables because Rex needs to eat healthy, and she said it was very creative!" Iniko was sitting at the kitchen table, his medication schedule laid out in front of him, his face animated with excitement as he recounted his day.

Rowan bent to pick it up. He stopped halfway. "This isn't another letter." He turned it over. It was a drawing. Simple. Made with charcoal. A little girl sat on a swing. A woman stood behind her, pretending to push while the little girl laughed. In one corner, someone had drawn a large oak tree. Its trunk split into two near the ground. I stared at it. "I know that tree." Everyone looked at me. "I've seen it." "Where?" Kael asked. "I..." The answer was there.

Her drawing. It was a charcoal sketch of the old oak tree that had stood behind the school, the one she’d hidden under during lunch. She remembered this piece. It was one of her best from senior year. She’d poured her loneliness into the sweeping lines of the branches, her fragile hope into the dappled light on the grass.

He had attended to the village hall section in the margins of the other correspondence and in November he had looked at the drawing and found it complete. He drew it in ink on a Thursday. The mapping pen, the single weight line. He had been through the pencil corrections across the four months — the south wall and the hatch and the floor and the covered porch and the kitchen in their pencil states, each revised and reconsidered and confirmed before the ink. He drew the ink on a November Thursday and the inland November light was on the drawing board and he drew without stopping for three hours.

Chapter thirty-three Anabelle Pov The hall was noisy, the moderators were discussing with each other. While other members were whispering. I couldn't think about the noise. I closed my eyes and started mapping out the drawing found. I drew the mountains first, filling it with amber color, the mountain was filled with different giant trees. After properly drawing the mountain I drew the moon-bird. It was so fine to my eyes, I couldn't believe I was able to draw the same art work and it was better than the previous one.

Oceane saw Carol, she greeted her and took the fruits away with her. Kieran was drawing. When he saw Carol, he put down his brush. “I didn’t expect you to have the time to visit me.” “It’s off season for weddings now, so we aren’t too busy. What’re you drawing?” His drawing was on the abstract side, so Carol could only tell that it was a rose after examining it closely. “Who are you trying to be? Van Gogh?” “The doctor said drawing could calm me, so I decided to practice with Pete.”

In solidarity, Jan PS: Do not email me back, for pity’s sake! Also, Tavi says hi. Behind the letter is a drawing of a dragon from our younger sister Octavia. It shows me riding the back holding a flaming sword over my head. I only know it is me because she was labeled “Maxie”. She is only four and Maximillion is a bit of a mouthful. I smile when I notice the stick figures of fallen villagers on fire beneath the curled toes of the dragon, drawn meticulously in crayon. It is a pleasant distraction from the contents of the letter and I am grateful to Janus for including it.

I have never been more embarrassed before an old woman like I was at that moment. After eating my fill with Aileen wondering if I would have enough space for breakfast, I rubbed my tummy and gazed at the papers stuck to the fridge. It was childish drawing's definitely from the children at the orphanage. One had a huge caricature drawing with a red crayon with a wrongly spelled Orian written at the bottom. The next was a drawing that had two caricatures, one slightly bigger than the other and it had Orian and Nexus written at the bottom. But I wasn't sure if Nexus drew this or the kids.

Seemed like they hadn't been touched for a long time. I picked up the first one. It was a portrait of Boomer, drawn as if it was not an artwork but a real picture. The colors blended with each other so well like some professional artist put their heart and soul in it. The second one was of Doser... then another of the boys together… and one of Karen. At the end of the canvases there were written the letters 'H. K.'. H. K. Hunter King. Hunter drew all these? Admiration filled my heart.