Joker Pencil Drawing Easy Novels & Stories

Started drawing without deciding to. The page filled. She didn't look at what she was making until the pencil stopped. A woman at a window. Below her, in three suggested lines, a small figure. She looked at it for a moment. Turned to a fresh page. Drew again — faster, not thinking. When she looked at the second page her hand had made a face. Dark hair suggested in two strokes. A jaw. Eyes that gave nothing back even in pencil. Four lines total. It looked exactly like him.

Father is still the CEO of the company but I have some important works that I have to attend to as well. Adele's POV I walked into the room already filled with drawing materials and my lips raised at the sides. It looks too good to be true. I quickly ventured into the took before taking my seat on the chair there. I opened up the box containing the different types of pencils and picked up the 2B. About an hour passed and I was there again. Trying to figure out how to draw his face. I remember Daniel's face all the time in my head, why can't I draw it down? Why is it so hard to?

I let my pencil flow across the page, capturing the essence of summer. Next, I turned my thoughts to men’s wear—specifically for someone like Ezekiel. He looked so effortlessly at ease in the water, strong and confident as he played with the kids. I began sketching simple yet stylish beach attire for men—board shorts, lightweight linen shirts, and casual but elegant pieces that would suit someone like him. As I got lost in my sketches, the world around me faded into the background. My hand moved quickly over the paper, drawing lines and shapes that flowed naturally, as if they were always meant to be.

“It helps.” Her blue pools softened to a sweet gaze. “I’m happy that it helps.” Fingers twirled the sleek pencil in my hand in a fidgety tick. I peered down to take another look at my half finished sketch. The lingering poison slowly began to sprout in my head as I sigh lowly. “Me too.”

Thanks to him because this is too much for my taste. I smile and get one big thick pad and I pin it horizontally on the easel. I also pick one HB pencil and paintbrush before I sit in front of it. While thinking about drawing, I pulled back my wavy hair with a pencil, I let the strands of my hair fall on both sides of my cheeks. I don't have any idea what to sketch, but my hand has its own mind to draw a dark perpendicular line in the center of the pad. Next, my hand drew a female shape whose face is divided right in the middle of the vertical line.

My pack still lacked a Luna. “Alpha Logan.” I stopped and turned when I heard someone calling my name. A genuine smile spread across my lips when I saw Jordan, a boy of about five, running toward me, holding a piece of paper. “Hello, Jordan,” I greeted him. His face lit up. He handed me the drawing. “A wolf?” I asked, looking at the large wolf drawn on the paper. Despite his young age, Jordan was a surprisingly good artist. The wolf in the drawing was lying in green grass, looking peaceful.

"Can I see?" His eyes widen in what looks like panic. "No―I don't really let people see my drawings," he mutters. "Please Jax?" I plead. He bites the inside of his cheek making me sigh. "I'm not going to judge or anything, I just want to see." He takes a deep breath. "Okay fine," he murmurs, handing me the sketchbook. I flip it over and my breath catches in my throat. My eyes widen as my fingers trail over the drawing, careful not to smudge the pencil. "It's me." The detail is insane. I couldn't have been in the water for more than ten minutes.

Her head was throbbing from the intense pushup. "Great…now jog in place," he lazily said. He was sitting across from her with a stick in his hand, sketching on the ground. He was horrible at drawing. Sketching what looks like the head of a monkey and the body of a boney fish with thin arms executed in a T position. Yes, he was sketching her with a bored expression. A yawn came out of his mouth. "When do I stop?" she tiredly said while jogging in place.

Ava followed his gaze. Her heart dropped. Something lay on the center of Jace’s bed. Not an object this time. A page. A single sheet of lined notebook paper, ripped unevenly, edges curled. Jace moved toward it in slow, rigid steps, shoulders tight. Ava followed him, her breath growing heavy. He reached out and picked up the page with a trembling hand. Ava stepped close enough to read over his arm. The paper held: A charcoal drawing. A rough, frantic sketch.

Creating had always been her refuge, but lately it felt dangerous like it might unleash emotions she wasn’t ready to face. Jaden noticed her hesitation. “You don’t have to draw anything big,” he said gently. “Even lines count.” She nodded and finally pressed pencil to paper. At first, the strokes were shaky. Aimless. Then slowly, something took shape not a person, not a place, but movement. Soft curves. Broken lines reconnecting. Jaden watched quietly, careful not to intrude. “You’re still you,” he said after a while. She swallowed. “I was afraid I wasn’t.”