Jungle Drawing Novels & Stories

He suffered no damages, but it hurt so badly that made him decide to leave the red zone even if there was still plenty of time before the immunity time ran out. While others ran towards the centre for the best resources and weapons, Zen scurried outside. They were given maps of this jungle terrain although not in great detail. Nobody knew where anyone else would be because it didn’t work as a mini-map. Most of the candidates deemed it useless but not Zen. As a gamer, he knew that the other resource packs scattered around shouldn’t be too difficult to find. The topography of this jungle made it easy for him to guess where these resources would be located.

He wants to be free from responsibilities, from any form of marriage, he wanted to travel the world – not stay stuck in Biñan like his parents, or those of his relatives before him. He leans back into the boulder and tries to balance the journal on his lap. He takes out his charcoal sticks and sharpens the tip on the boulder next to him, on the area just next to his face. This brings the ends of the sticks to a point. It makes finer and darker lines which makes the images sharper and more contoured. The image of the fish and the image of the flowing river becomes looking more alive that one can even say that the river in his drawing is moving.

He stared at it with so much intensity. “What's behind the inspiration?” “Nothing in particular, I just sat down and... drew.” I explained. I collectively remembered the day I drew the portrait. I had just finished having little fall out with mom, I walked towards my pencil, as I held the pencil, so many emotions began to flow through. Carefully, I began to draw. The drawing took five hours to complete, I had lost track of time. When I was done, I was surprised to see what I had done. It was a well sculptured drawing of a bleeding girl, standing next to a huge creature, more like a huge dog with blazing eyes that could kill its prey. They were both surrounded by the forest, brown tree branch

Then I went to the kitchen table where Julie had left the drawings, weighted down with a crayon so they wouldn't slide, two pieces of paper in the particular bold lines of a four year old who doesn't yet know to doubt herself. The first was the dragon, which did look somewhat like a dog but had a convincingly fierce expression, and the second was a figure with long dark hair and a smaller figure on either side of her, all three of them holding hands, the sky above them full of yellow circles that might have been stars or might have been suns, Julie having not yet settled on the distinction. I sat down on the kitchen floor with my back against the cabinet, still in the dress, the premiere som

I glanced at a few of the books, some fantasy novels and a small sketch pad. I opened the sketch pad and looked through it, she was good. Really good. The scenes were mostly outdoors. Forests, waterfalls, mountains. All done with such grace and precision. Each more lovely and realistic than the last. I noticed at the bottom there was a J written as beautifully as the drawings themselves. I got to the last page and there was a drawing of a moon. Bright and beautiful in the sky but there was something else to it. The drawing felt sad. “What the hell.” I snapped as I lifted my hand and wiped a tear from my cheek.

There, hidden behind a curtain of weeping carbon-fiber vines, was a small, dilapidated shack. "What is this?" I asked. "The only place the grid can't see," Xander said. He pulled back the vines, and I saw a wall covered in jagged, hand-drawn charcoal sketches. I gasped. The sketches weren't of buildings or machines. They were of us. There was a drawing of a man and a woman standing in a mountain of gold; a drawing of a girl with a wooden ring; a drawing of a man with orange eyes holding a woman in the rain.

Jade screamed angrily, tearing out and crumpling up a sheet of paper from her sketchbook. She threw it across the room and it landed on the floor close to the door, increasing the litter of crumpled paper and broken pencils in the room. She took a new pencil from behind her ears, her fingers shaky as she began to draw lines and curves, in readiness for another sketch. Closing her eyes, she tried to picture a face, Tiger's face - that was what they called him but she knew his name began with the letter H.

The first pages contained ordinary drawings. Faith. The house. The old fig tree. Then... His expression changed. Bethwel leaned closer. "What is it?" Alex turned the book around. Glen had drawn the northern woods. A square hatch. Six stick figures. One had a hat. Another had unusually large boots. Each figure carried a different symbol instead of a face. Joel smiled. "Children draw differently." Alex nodded. "No." "He wasn't drawing faces." "He was classifying them." He pointed at the figure with the hat.

“That’s it! I quit. I suck.” I turned to look at what she was making. She had gotten 20% of the starting drawing right, but in time lost touch of everything. I laughed lightly and took the book for inspection. The pages fluttered, and behind the unfinished busy subway, I saw a few more colourful drawings and sketches. I turned the page, and was greeted by the sight of a huge green tree. At first glance it looked really majestic. Because all you will notice at first are the thick heavy branches. But in time, when you keep looking, you will see the differences.