Neon Drawings นิยาย & เรื่องราว

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.

Now, she sat here in the mornings, drinking the coffee he made for her—the silent, pathetic peace offering he left on the counter every day, hoping she wouldn't throw it out. He looked at the refrigerator—at the blue circular magnet holding up the three drawings. He wanted his drawing up there so badly it made his chest ache, but he didn't know how to ask without sounding desperate. "What are we drawing, Eli?" "Animals," Eli said, his small hand moving with fierce concentration. "Mrs. Yusuf said to draw our favorites." "How many do we have?" "Three." Eli pointed a small finger. "That's a brachiosaurus. That's Patterson. That's Gerald."

Chapter 32 POV: Emerald The first thing I noticed was the color. Bright. Unapologetic. Sunbursts of yellow and soft blue skies streaked across the paper like hope had taken shape in a child's crayon-stained fingers. I stood at the kitchen counter, my tea growing cold in my hands, while Kelvin shyly held out the drawing he’d brought home from art class. It was slightly wrinkled at the corners, the bottom edge torn just a bit—as if he’d held it too tightly on the way home, afraid it might slip from his grasp.

Rhiannon murmured to herself, then smiled again, "What do you draw? May I have a look? I'm sure I'm gonna like them," His lips quivered and he seemed to be thinking for a second before he turned open the pages. She stood behind him as he turned the pages open one by one, every page filled with an intricate, detailed drawing which had her eyes almost popping out. Did the Kid really draw all of this?! It was a literal artwork! The details were almost unreal, as if they had been generated with technology or something, but everything was drawn with the pencil he was holding. But most importantly, the drawings were odd.

she asks, he says yes, handing her some colors, she sat me on the ground next to her handing me all the new colors and paper. "You can color while mama works," she says letting me play while works, I drew her a pretty picture, using all the colors she gave me, they weren't crayons, these ones I could paint on my hands with them. I decided to decorate my hands the same way daddy has drawing on his body, I did pretty drawings getting busy with my day. "Neve, mama is almost done..." she says but stops halfway through, looking at me and my pretty drawings. "Nevie!" she says, looking at my hands, I have my sleeves up taking the drawings up my arms.

Right as he was caught up in his thoughts, Kelvin felt a little tug at his sleeve and quickly turn toward the children's safety beside him. Aiden had lifted his drawing board and turned towards Kelvin excitedly. On the blank, white canvas, he drew a man and a woman holding the hands of a young child between them. The skies were blue, the grass was green and the sun was golden yellow in color in the drawing; it was a beautiful sight to be held. When Kelvin saw this, he was stunned by what he had drawn. “Aiden! Do you want to have a mommy?

Or maybe he is struggling with the loss of someone close to him, or maybe he has terrible nightmares each night and is looking for an outlet…I’m truly reaching at this point. Perhaps some of these explanations would make perfect sense, if it weren’t for the uneasy feeling in my stomach. The drawings are just so...unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Is Noah really like this? I can’t imagine he would be, from the times I’ve met him, but how could I gauge from those small moments what he is truly like? He’s drawn demon like creatures emerging from a smudge of darkness. Each have eyes void of all feeling, of all mortal like tendencies. Dark hooked claws reach out, almost completely off the page, lik

We stood in the particular silence of two people who had accumulated an entire day's worth of things neither of them was ready to name yet, and the pale corridor light sat on us both, and from behind the classroom door came the cheerful sound of Noé explaining something to someone with great confidence. After a moment Adrien turned back toward the door. I followed. Inside, Noé looked up from his drawing and saw us come back in together and his face did the thing it did, that open uncomplicated brightness, and he held up the paper. He had drawn three figures. A tall one, a small one, and one in a cream coat in the middle. Underneath it in his careful seven-year-old handwriting, he had written

Seeing her lying there looking sad somehow makes me forget that she called me a criminal. I don’t know how long I stand there, but somehow, I feel lighter. Resigned, I pull out my sketchbook and begin to draw. It’s a compulsion that I cannot resist. When I’m done, I appraise the drawing and take a deep breath. I feel drained yet energized at that the same time. My body is sweating as if I’ve run for miles, and my skin feels sensitive. All I can think about is walking across the street and kissing Nevaeh’s beautiful lips.