Mouth Drawing Reference Novels & Stories

Sara yelled as I walked out the door. I halted to wipe away my tears with the sleeve of my pink sweater as I was outside. My stare went across the road as I did, and immediately my heart started to race to meet Connor's gaze over at the gas station. He averted his head as soon as I noticed him, and quickly removed the nozzle from his motorcycle, scurrying into the convenience store as if he didn't want to be seen by me.

Labels in wobbly, determined letters. *me* *mama* *stoRm* Noah’s mouth quirked despite himself. Storm. He didn’t need a map for that one. Underneath the drawing, mostly covered until now, was a photo. Not a printed one; a clinic snapshot someone had pulled from a phone and run through the ancient color printer. The quality was grainy, the colors too bright. But the subjects were unmistakable.

Its mouth gaped open in a grotesque twist, far wider than any living thing should ever be able to manage. Notes were scratched hastily into the margins, cramped and uneven, while arrows jabbed toward specific parts of the drawing—its joints, its jagged teeth, its unblinking eyes—each annotation making it clear that this wasn’t just a sketch, but a careful, unsettling study. Anton swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as if the words themselves were difficult to force past it. “I know it,” he said at last, his voice low and restrained, almost too quiet to be steady.