Ochako Uraraka Drawing Novels & Stories

In the end, I think they turned out great. Not that I knew what the others were for but there was also a frog on a log, a humming bird and a fat Cardinal. The very last one I was drawing was for Arlo. He got those picture for us, or more for me. It was of a wolf. It’s head was downward with his teeth showing. The hair was standing straight up with a human skull under it’s paw. There wasn’t any flesh on it, just the bones. Originally, I was going to make it a dead rabbit or something but this seemed appropriate. Keeping this one black and white, kept some of the mystery alive. “Charlotte??” Waylon yelled as he was coming in.

For some reason, her instincts immediately told her this conversation wasn't as simple as it sounded. The teacher offered a small smile. "Hazel draws very well." Aurora nodded. "She loves drawing." "But after she finished..." The teacher opened a thin folder she had been carrying. Then pulled out a sheet of paper. Aurora immediately recognized the drawing. Herself. Darius. Hazel. Their house. And a dog they didn't even own. A very typical child's drawing. But there was one additional figure in the corner of the page. A man. Standing a little apart from everyone else.

Because after I was done, I looked down. I saw Angelstar, my wolf, and a beautiful wolf has a midnight color on his tail and under his chest with a shape of a paw on his chest. I knew it was a bigger guy than her and me because they were on the mountain top watching the sky. Then something came to my mind. So I started drawing on the other pad. I was underlining the picture and coloring and shadowy the part of the picture. Once I was done. I gasped and hid my flush face because I had drawn a girl with beautiful platinum blonde hair and purple eyes, but I kept my eyes on her. Oh, my God! The drawing looks just like-

“It’s been calm today. Her father hasn’t come out of his room except for dinner. Ahsoka has been drawing on that easel since she cleaned up dinner.” I focus on what it is she is drawing and I realize it’s Ace. I can’t help but smile that she is thinking about us right now. Her drawing is quite impressive. I see her shiver as she turns around to close her window. She stops for a second and I am sure she is staring right at us. She doesn’t move, trying to focus but she ends up shivering again and closes the window.

After another four minutes, he slid one of his own drawings across the table toward her. She looked at it. It was a woman with yellow hair. She was standing in what appeared to be a field. She was smiling. The quality of the drawing was extraordinary for a four-year-old, the proportions held with an instinctive accuracy that most children twice his age did not manage. Aria looked at the drawing for a long time. She thought about what Renata had told her. She thought about a car bombing three years ago, about a little boy in a house where someone was no longer maintaining the flower bed.

I picked it up and took a seat on the bed, before flipping it open. It was filled with… drawings. Drawings so realistic, they told stories better than any picture ever could. A smile curved on my lips at the fact that Asher drew all this. On the first page was the picture of a woman, who reminded me of Jane—or perhaps it was just the fact that she had red hair.. I turned over to the next page. On it was the drawing of a boy, seated in a dark empty space. The third drawing gave me a pause. It was of a woman in a bathtub, her wrist split and blood gushing out of the wound.

Finally, she nodded. They began drawing on a blank sheet of paper. Aurelia drew flowers and a bright sun. Caca drew a house, but not a cheerful one. The house she sketched looked dark, and all the windows were closed. Aurelia quietly noticed the detail. “That’s a beautiful house,” she said. Caca only gave a small smile. “The house is lonely.” Aurelia stopped drawing. “You like houses that feel lively, don’t you?” Caca did not answer. She drew a large cloud above the house, then a tiny sun in the corner. It was barely visible.

I ran a hand through my hair, gripping the back of my neck, angry, tired, and embarrassed. "Asher?" a small voice said. I looked up. Zaya. She stood at the edge of the porch, holding something in her tiny hands—a crayon drawing. Her eyes, large and filled with concern, studied me. “I drew this,” she whispered, holding it out. “It’s you. And mommy. And all of us. We’re smiling.” I took the paper gently. A lump rose in my throat. It was stick figures and crooked hearts, but it made my chest twist painfully.

Love, Mia (age 8) Luca stared at it, quiet. Amara stood beside him, heart full. “You did that,” she whispered. He shook his head. “We did.” She smiled. Then pointed to the drawing . “Also, I think that’s supposed to be you in a chef’s cape.” Luca grinned. “Finally. Someone recognizes my true form.”

“But I want her to see me when she turns around. Just me.” Enzo said nothing and just nodded once. I reached into the inner pocket of my coat and pulled out a small folded piece of paper. A drawing done in crayon. Orange sun. Two stick figures, one taller, one shorter. A crooked heart between them. In the top corner, in shaky handwriting: "Mama and Me." Aria had drawn it last week. Given it to me like it was gold. I hadn’t said anything, just nodded and folded it away. Now I unfolded it again, letting the image settle into me like a slow fire.