Neon Drawings Novels & Stories

But it wasn't the architecture that stopped my heart; it was the walls. There were no landscape paintings or portraits of stern ancestors. There were sketches. Thousands of them. Charcoal on yellowed paper, pinned directly onto the silk wallpaper. I approached one, my heart hammering against my ribs. It was a drawing of a small girl on a wooden swing. She had my eyes. "Ruby... look at this," Nevan’s voice cracked from the other side of the room.

"You're good at drawing the details," "Thanks, I don't do commissioned stuff much but I'm between gigs so at least I get the chance to draw." Then I explained further when he looked like he was not following my explanation. "I drew my kills, and sell them on my website, hence the board, I need to put into consideration that one of my buyers might want me dead, hell, maybe it's one of my competitors though I doubt many artists are into my kind of drawing so at least I can scratch them out pretty quickly. I'll be starting on their list tomorrow." Nero was at my side and I rest my back to his chest, suddenly feeling comfortable with our closeness. It was weird but none of us move away from each

“He kept asking when you were coming back. The pictures are on the table.” We spent the next few hours in a happy bubble. I sat on the floor with Nevan while he showed me every single drawing he’d made — colorful scribbles of me, him, and “the big house with the pretty lights.” We built a new blanket fort together, bigger than the last one, using fairy lights and pillows. Inside our cozy cave, we played with his toy cars, racing them across the blanket while he told me all the stories he’d invented while I was gone.

Solène’s smile never faded as she collected them, her eyes dropping to the drawing Katie had made. “What is this?” She asked gently, taking the drawings—bright colors, uneven shapes, familiar figures. “I’m still learning to draw people.” Katie said, scooting to Solene’s side. Then, one by one, she pointed at the figures on the paper Solene held on top. “This is Grandma, this is you, this is Mommy, and this is Uncle Atlas!” She said, proud of herself. Solène raised a brow. “That’s good. You almost got our faces right.” She laughed.

Nikini sat beside her and handed her the sketchbook. Emlin began flipping through the pages as Nikini sat there tugging at her fingers, nervously. This was the first time anyone has ever seen her drawings; not even Boris had seen these. She worried they might be a little too dark. She often drew what she felt, and her thoughts and feelings were often dark due to her constant unhappiness. She drew a lot about her childhood and drew some about her current life with Boris. She often drew herself and her many stages of emotions.

But the fairies did not succeed in cutting Venenata Negra. The other fairies died, but the subsequent drawings made me nervous. The dead faeries were resurrected and came back from the dead. But the drawing is different, you can tell they are faeries, but they have horns and long nails. It has a demonic symbol that represents these faeries are no longer good. No, I missed something. I went back to the drawings I had passed and there I saw that they had come to life because of Venenata Negra, but they were not the same as before.

In their homeworld of Triton, they lived in islets surrounded by a vast dark blue ocean that were occasionally disturbed by the storm that came from the grey cloudy skies. Here, however, was a desert that changes color depending on where the sun would stop at a given time. In the horizon, it would be purple. If the sun was at zenith point, it was light tan but when the sun sets and paved way for the moon to shine, it was green. The Solar ADF had grown on calling it 'Neon Desert', for some reason.

He hasn't seen Diana either, and he suspected they were going to be together and that his mother might be making sure she looked so perfect. Ashford turned his head to the side; the remaining girls were bending over to the dead girl. He scoffed before turning his head away, showing no sign of sympathy. The door burst open, revealing Neon. Neon closed the door behind him and hurried to Ashford. He had a sheet of paper in his hand and was well groomed. "I have something to show you; it's not serious, just a painting I found." He paused when he noticed the blood on Ashford's face. His eyes trailed around the place until they stopped on the dead girl's body. "What did you do?" He asked, looking

Just let m help you Siren, let me turn your art to something beautiful,” handing me a piece of paper. I hesitantly took it from her hand. “You are not alone,” I unfolded the piece of paper with familiar drawing. It was a drawing of a baby inside a sunflower. In fact it was Chu. “Think about it,"

Chloe walked back to the nursery to fetch the boy. "Liam, dinner's ready. Did you finish your draw—" Her voice died in her throat. Chloe’s hands balled into trembling fists as she stared at the canvas. It wasn't a happy family portrait. It was a depiction of hell. In the center of the paper, Liam had drawn three figures, but they weren't people. Two of them were towering "monsters," and the third was a small, broken boy cowering in a dark corner. The first monster was a man with eyes the size of saucers, wearing a tattered T-shirt. In one hand, he brandished a heavy belt; in the other, a glowing cigarette butt that he was pressing toward the crying boy on the ground.