Mulan Drawing Novels & Stories

Twenty minutes later, I’m sitting in the living room with my sandwiches, a tall glass of milk, the TV on, serving as background noise, and my drawing pad and pencil in hand. I don’t know how long I sit there drawing, only taking breaks to use the washroom, but eventually I finish drawing Remus, which is surprisingly difficult, not because there aren’t many features to draw, but because there aren’t many features to draw. I try to make it feel as real as I can, as detailed as possible, and try to paint a picture of his personality through the drawing. And don’t get me started on the shading. I feel like my fingers might fall off by the time I actually finish, but I realize this is probably my

Her belly button was tucked inside the muscle and that's where the drawing stopped. May scrunched her nose. This drawing reminds her of someone. Someone she doesn't want to be reminded of, Bella. Her eyes shifted to the next drawing which she found to be the worst. A woman and man having sex. No, it looked like she was being raped cause her hands were tied. May's stomach churned. She felt uncomfortable. Why does he have such obscenities drawn in his room? The third and fourth drawings she loved, however. She thought the artist had done a wonderful job drawing a rose that looked like it was dying with its leaves dropping to the floor.

In Mansoor Manor, The late afternoon light came through the tall garden doors in long, warm strips across the sitting room floor. Liyana was sitting at the low wooden table Eleanor had pulled from the far corner of the room specifically for this purpose. In front of the child lay a large pad of heavy drawing paper, a scattered set of colored pencils Eleanor had produced from an old drawer downstairs, and the intensely focused expression of someone who had been given materials and was taking the responsibility entirely seriously.

"Do you have a moment?" "I'm actually in a bit of a hurry," I lied, already reaching for Marcello's hand to pull him toward the door, but she was holding up a piece of paper and something about her expression made me stop. "Marcello drew this today during art time," she said, holding out the paper, and I took it with hands that wanted to shake but I forced them steady through sheer will. It was a family portrait, the kind that every three-year-old draws with stick figures that have circle heads and triangle bodies and no sense of proportion, three people standing in a row holding hands with a yellow sun in the corner and green grass under their feet.

Leo smiled as he shook his head and moved his arm that had been bandaged earlier, signaling to her that he was fine. Seeing that they still hadn’t finished their conversation, Melanie then turned around and entered the study that was connected to the room. The study was very neat and organized, just like Leo himself. There were quite a few drawings that attracted Melanie’s attention, and they were all of the same man; the man in the drawings had short hair, was slightly skinny, and had a strong and defined face. The person who had made the drawings was quite skilled. They used multiple colors to draw the man’s figure and hair, and the lines were all quite spirited. But strangely, none of th

~ 𝑬𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒀𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝑳𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓 ~ Illiana grunted angrily as she tossed her drawing paper to the waste bin. " I can't believe I've been trying to draw this shit for almost two hours now and yet I've gotten nothing good from it. " Genevieve took the sheet out from the waste bin, checking on what she had drawn. " Come on, Ana this is more than beautiful. Why would you want this for nothing. "

After ten more minutes as I finally finish my girl's portrait, Michael has finished the flower vase. That drawing is again amazing. Orange tulips in beautiful blue vase. But since it's just a flower vase and he did it really quickly, it's not something really great like the first drawing. Probably he wanted to finish the scenery drawing now itself.

This was the first time I was talking her to her since what happened in the court room. "What are you drawing?" I walked inside and took a seat beside her. Didn't she know that she didn't need to fear me? "I'm drawing my family." She looked down and began drawing again. I saw something that resembled two girls and two boys. "Who is whom in this?" She hadn't drawn a beard on anybody. What did she see me as? "This is me." She pointed at a girl in a pink dress. Figures. "And this is Kol." She pointed at the boy who she is holding hands with.

Something fluttered from her hands as she turned the corner, a piece of paper, drifting slowly before landing near my chair. Silence swallowed the room, causing my stomach to drop. I stood up slowly and walked over, my movements heavy, like gravity had suddenly doubled. I bent down and picked it up. A drawing. Crayon and paint, bright and uneven, edges smudged with fingerprints. I stared at it. Three figures stood in front of a house. The woman had long hair and a wide smile. The little girl stood in the middle, holding both their hands. And the man, tall, broad, unmistakable stood on the other side.

She responded with a delightful giggle, her laughter filling the air with a sweet and uplifting melody that momentarily lifted the somber mood. “Look, look!" she exclaimed with excitement, squirming free from my embrace and darting over to the kitchen table. Amidst a collection of colorful crayons and scattered papers, I came across a heartwarming drawing. Mabel, with a proud smile on her face, pointed at the figures and exclaimed, "This is Daddy, this is Mum, and this is me," as she tapped each figure with her tiny finger.