Mabangis Na Hayop Drawing の小説・ストーリー

Rory raised his head and looked at Mable, who was walking upstairs, with an unreadable expression. After sitting alone in the living room for a while, Rory ordered Spike’s attendant to take down Spike’s drawings. Mable was the subject of every drawing Spike made. Although Spike was under five years old, he was a very talented artist. He could draw a portrait that was quite lifelike. Rory picked up a drawing. Glancing at it, he found a line of words written in Fasien in the lower right corner. [Mommy, I wasn’t picky about my food today and ate carrots and eggs. I will grow up so I can protect Mommy in the future.]

Mia replied, and she brought out a beautiful painting that was above average. “Oh, it's nice. Seems you're multi-talented” The boys praised her and continued to chat among themselves. Mason snorted while pointing at Philip and Craig's drawing, his expression, and tone filled with nothing but mockery as the boys continued to jest themselves. “What were you thinking? Did you just draw an amoeba?” “I bet the artist you showed must have laughed to death.” Caleb chirped in, laughing silently. “Stop laughing.” Craig chided and pointed at Mason's drawing of a dinosaur while having a feigned complicated expression on. “Look at that; I was wondering what the hell you had just drawn. Worse than amoeba

My mind reeled. Was this the continuation of the previous picture? It looked like it. I looked back and forth documenting every single etch in the sand and they looked alike. What could this mean? was it possible for me to walk? To move beside Alex on land, without needing to be carried or hidden away? The thought sent a thrill through my body, making my skin vibrate with excitement. I looked around, searching for more answers. My fingers traced along the sand for more answers, The drawings depicted everyday life, hunting, decorating, even a small story of what seems like a mermaid fighting an orca.

There was a loud silence as everyone was captivated by the intricate design of the painting. It was a complex drawing of a beast that had four heads. Heads that look like a mixture of wolf and man and each head having different eye colors. Bright blue ocean eyes like spirit. Red bloody eyes like flames of anger A golden yellow eyes like jealousy and lust and lastly silver, gray eyes like a plague of death. The heads shared one body with two arms and legs but it had four separate tails with three tails moderately lengthy while the fourth one which is the tail in the middle was significantly longer than the rest and the background was pitch dark like the darkest night.

"It's missing both ears." I watch as he picks up the stick this time and makes on the sand, two medium sized 'c's on both sides of the drawing. We both tilt our heads to the left at the same time and stare at the drawing on the sand. One of the eyes are way bigger than the other and the nose seems to be falling out of proportion, the shape of the head looks like that of an amoeba while the ears he just drew isn't fully connected to the face. "I think it's phenomenal," He says.

Her head hurts like a battle-ax was splitting it open and her shoulders and legs are aching after prolonged hours of sitting on the ground and focusing on drawing the symbols. She stood from her seat to get a better view of her complete pictograph and forced her lips to produce a proud smile at a job well done. An odd creature that seems to be a hybrid of a black cat and a bat flew towards her also inspecting the work. The small creature was ill-proportioned having a head too big for its body and limbs too small to support its weight however it seems to be in perfect physiological and physical functioning.

Then I reached the drawings. Someone had sat with a living thing and drawn it the way the old human anatomists drew, every line put down to be true rather than pretty. A figure, standing, filling the page. Not a man. It stood on two legs and had two arms, but the arms hung to the knees, longer than any arm I'd ever shaken. The jaw ran out too far and hung too heavy, built to hold more teeth than a face has room for. In its own panel beside it, the hands: longer in the palm than mine, the bone at the last joint of each finger hooked, a claw drawn back into the shape of a nail and not quite hidden there.

And on the other side, there is a wall filled with paintings, one that looked like it was painted by a small child. There were more pictures of the little girl and the two Doctors all over the house. I stepped closer to the wall filled with picture and looked at each one. Each paper was swarmed with bright colors. Some were stick figures of a family and others were better versions of those figures. There are always three figures in all of the papers. One is super large and one is medium. The last one was super tiny. On some of the papers, the kid had tried to attempt to draw a giant fur ball that had eyes legs and arms, it looked a lot like a bear, and a smaller wolf.

Remembering shouldn't be hard but expressing it will be. I think about the various things I have seen in my lifespan. Blood, bullets, pills, dead bodies. I could go on. Most of them aren't really suitable for this environment and explaining it will be impossible. What can I use? There's really nothing I can use that isn't somehow related to my past. Looking over at what Abe's doing, I see that he's drawing I think a scene of trees. Abe draws with these really thin and long lines, which makes his sketch look a lot like an animal's pelt. But I think that's what it is. And there's an outline of mountains in the background. Is that...Lonewood?

The details were stunning, so intricate and rich. Kiema gasped as she reached out a hand to trace the figures on the page. Lions, wolves, other big cats I couldn't name, dragons, rats or rodents, bears, tigers. Each was beautifully rendered. One of the pages was broken up into cells or frames. A man stood tall in the first frame. In the second, he appeared next to a tall spirit of some kind. The spirit joined with the man in the third frame. The man fell, his face distorted in agony as something pushed from his stomach. In the fifth frame, the man was partially beast, but his expression had changed from pain to pleasure. The last frame the man was gone, except for the shape of his eyes. The