Miraculous Drawings Novels & Stories

It was just like the writings of a computer, neatly and clearly obvious. Her perfect handwriting flows gracefully across the page, with elegant curves and consistent spacing. Each letter was meticulously formed, exuding a sense of sophistication and precision that captures attention and invites admiration. I picked up the drawings, and observed the nude pictures perfectly sketched out on blank sheets. This young Miss drawing is a mesmerizing dance of colors and lines, weaving together to create a vivid tapestry of emotions. With each stroke, she breathes life into her creation, capturing fleeting moments of beauty and depth.

There were also coats, hooded capes and many more. Her parents’ diary, kept very carefully, the most valuable thing for her, but which she didn’t open so far to see its purpose, was on the bedside by her bed. The room was so beautiful, with nicely drawn drapes, with unicorns and woods, with princesses and princes on them. Drawings that represented another wonderful, magic world. And all those drawings walked on that curtain, as if they were alive.

"Maybe it's just the healing. My body's still putting itself back together. That can make a person look not quite right." They exchange a glance, the kind only twins seem capable of, an entire silent conversation passing between them in half a second. Then Maverick nods, accepting the explanation with visible reluctance, and Makayla pulls a folded piece of paper out from behind her back. "We made you something," she announces. "Oh?" I manage a smile. "Let's see it." I take the paper and unfold it carefully. It's a drawing. Crayon, the lines uneven and sincere in the way children's drawings always are, four figures standing together holding hands under a bright yellow sun. A woman with blonde

“I hope it’ll all be OK.” “Me too. So, just wait here just a bit longer, and I’ll have someone come and get you when Rita’s in the transplant ICU ward.” “Thanks.” Carrie glanced at the sketch pad on the chair. “You drew those?” “Yeah.” “What are they? Dancing women?” “Apsaras. Female spirits from Hindu and Buddhist mythology, usually associated with water and air – with clouds, mostly.” “Wow.” Carrie stared at the drawings. “They’re beautiful.” Maggie blushed. “Thanks. They’re for that big commission I told you about.”

“Did she say anything else?” “She pointed toward a temple.” Mira leaned closer. “The royal temple?” “No. It looked much older.” I turned the notebook toward her and showed her the drawing. “She was standing somewhere near it, and there were priestesses around an altar.” Mira stared at the page for a long moment. “Lyra, this is getting worse. But yeah, I love this idea of penning your dreams down. You need to keep writing every strange occurrence you notice. Maybe we can make out a pattern soon.”

Being an Alpha is such work, I really needed to be with her always, buy my responsibilities are important too. I sit on the chair and open the scrapbook slowly. I dusted it off first though because it's so dusty. Wow, what beautiful drawings? I am met by a beautiful drawing on the first page. There is a small scribbling like a signature at the bottom of the page. And it looks like Sylvia's name. The first drawing is of a bridge, there is water under the bridge and a charming Scenery at the end of the bridge. There is also quite rising sunshine. The start of the bridge is rough and rocky. The drawing has so many little details in it.

I pulled out my notebook and doodled some random shapes as my mind wandered into a void of nothing. After a little bit, I pulled myself out of my daze and stared at the scribbles, which had somehow come out to be a really good cat, so I erased the extra lines to bring out the cat's shape more. Bloody hell. How the fuck had I done that? Strange thing, how some things come out almost perfectly when you don't even try to make them in the first place. I had just been absent-mindedly gliding my pencil across my paper, and when I looked, there was a near-perfect drawing hidden within the lines. What the hell was going on today? I scribbled some more, still unsure of what I was trying to do.

She touched one drawing. "This is the river. This is the buildings. This is the chamber." She moved her hand along the progression. "This is the arrivals. All of it, drawn, in order." She stopped. "And then this." Aria crouched down. The drawing at the end of the sequence was different from the others. Not architectural. Not geographical. Not the specific practical diagrams Elena had used for the physical preparations. A circle. Inside it, two figures. One large. One very small.

I always lock it before leaving the premises. “But I… Did I…” Brushing it off, I pull the mini door open, and yelp when a heap of papers rains on me as if waiting for me to open it all along. I stay still for a moment, just blinking at the drawings. They’re ugly exaggerated images of me; big head, messy hair, thin legs… I’m as tiny as a doll, while a big guy towers over me, his pants down, and I’m choking on his… What?! My heart drops.

A feeling that made everything lighter. Moments later, Nico stepped forward with his own drawing. A dragon, fierce and bold, with purple scales and sharp red eyes. Flames burst from its mouth in uneven streaks of orange. “Thank you,” I told him as well. He tried to suppress his reaction, but the corner of his lips betrayed him, lifting into a small, proud smile. And in that moment, standing there with their drawings in my hands, something inside me shifted. Deeply. Dangerously. I felt… blessed.