Pencil Nezuko Drawing Novels & Stories

I looked at the black page in front of me, the sharpened pencil felt strange in my hands, bringing memories of two little boys giggling with identical smiles as they painted and drew on our mother’s wall, standing together through her scolding and punishments when she’d tell us to go to our room, a place we would so much rather be. I swallowed and went to work. The sound of our pencils against the crisp paper filled the silence. The only sound came from Jones cutting up vegetables for our lunch in the kitchen. “You’re pressing too hard.” Felix suddenly snuck up behind me, eyes glaring at the pencil I held. “I like holding my pencil like this.” “You’ll snap the pencil, Elias. I got those from