Little Doodles To Draw Mga Nobela at Kwento

She lay on the bed, kicking her legs in the air as she coloured her drawing. It didn't come out as planned, but it did look similar to what she pictured in her head. Her short hair was messed up and unnecessarily filled with pins. She hummed, tapping her chin thoughtfully with her head tilted to the side to observe her work. It was still missing something. Sunshine. She picked her yellow coloured pencil and drew a big bright sun.

“Mama’s busy. Daddy is sick. But I made drawings.” “I can’t wait to see them.” He pulls me by the hand, dragging me to the living room floor. I sit down beside him as he flips through several sheets of colorful scribbles—some are stick figures, others are clumsy hearts and stars. “This one is Mama. And that’s Daddy. And that’s me,” he explains, pointing at one picture. “Looks like you have a new little family, huh?” I tease. He nods proudly. “Daddy’s nice to Mama. He smiles a lot. Not like before.”

Long hours huddled away as I repeated the same doodle until it actually turned out into something good. Looking back on my old drawings was a weird balance between soothing and cringey. I took in the old drawings that I’ve given Daniella, a little surprised and kinda happy that she’s kept all of them. I could easily remember when and why I drew what I did. A good day that I wanted to share and show with Daniella. A bad day that I longed to escape. A boring day that I decided lightly doodling would help appease the boredom. My hand itches to do something.

Then, almost casually, he asked, “Do you like drawing?” I blinked, caught off guard. “Drawing?” “Yeah. Sketching. Art,” he clarified. “You ever do that?” I chuckled softly. “A little. I’m not great at it, though. Mostly doodles, random stuff.” I glanced at him. “Do you draw?” “Sometimes,” he admitted, lips twitching. “Nothing serious, but… I like it.” His tone was casual, but there was a spark in his eyes that made my chest tighten.

And it would be a good way to get my side business started, the one that was going to start making me some money of my own. I sat at my desk, picked up a pencil, and let my hands fly across a blank sketchbook page, just drawing. I drew ten pictures in ten minutes, flicking my eyes up intermittently to watch the minutes passing on my little digital alarm clock, not letting myself overthink. It was an exercise we used to do in school, and sometimes it resulted in some really good ideas.

Several students began asking Jack for help with their own problems, and he happily assisted, finally feeling like he belonged in a group that appreciated his abilities. Meanwhile, in art class, Lily stood out in her own way. When Mrs. Bloom asked them to draw something that made them happy, Lily’s hand moved quickly and confidently across the paper. By the end of class, she held up a beautifully detailed drawing of her family—Micheal, Yvonne, Jack, and herself—laughing under the sun. Although it lacked finesse, coming from a four year old it was the best the teacher had seen so far. It easily express the joy behind the drawing, making the teacher's heart warm up towards the child.

Taylor's hand. "Wow, just look at it! Here the whole class is paying attention to my notes, and understanding the questions, and Ms. Dawson is dreaming of becoming an artist." My eyes shut and I am ready to get insulted once again. The class has already started to laugh at Mr. Taylor's not-so-funny joke that is famously about me. He pretends to peek into my notebook and raises his brows as if surprised by my doodling. "And what did you draw, Ms. Dawson, hm? A monkey eating a banana! Applause!"

Cinderella POV. "Today we're gonna do some drawing class," Miss Bee says excited, getting all of the littles' attention, they were all excited and happy about this, but I don't do well drawing, I can colour, not very well but I can colour, I can't get a line straight though. "I don't like drawing," I whine in a low voice, mostly talking to giggles since the person sitting next to me is Remedy who's not my biggest fan out there.

Laying it out on the floor, I settle on my stomach. "Who wants to colour with me? I have the prettiest yellow ever!" I gasp dramatically, scribbling random lines with the bright yellow highlighter. I could feel the three Alphas just staring at me like I'm a little tapped in the head. Perhaps I am, but my method works. The toddlers come rushing over to inspect the colour for themselves, settling down and helping me draw as I share out the bright pens. "Look." Little Milo says as he shows me his crinkled drawing.

Abigail immediately cheered, doing small jumps on the mattress. "What does the Little Miss want to do now? Eat or play?" Moza asked, smiling warmly. "I want to eat chocolate pudding while I draw." As requested, Moza hurried to the kitchen to fetch the chocolate pudding she had prepared. When she returned, she found Abigail absorbed in her drawing book. Her work was simple, typical of a preschooler. There were three figures with round heads and wide smiles. A little girl stood in the middle, flanked by a male figure on the left and a female figure on the right. They were holding hands, like a harmonious little family.