Sans Drawing Novels & Stories

My drawing tablet sat there, practically taunting me. I knew I shouldn’t. I really, really shouldn’t. But I grabbed it anyway. My fingers swiped across the screen, flipping through random sketches before landing on them. The nudes. The explicit sketches of Jace—of us—doing things that had never even happened except in my head. My stomach twisted, but I couldn’t look away. I should stop. I should. But in the next minute, I was sketching again. My hand moved on its own, each line more detailed than the last. I wasn’t even thinking, just letting myself get lost in the strokes—

She sat down on the chair and began to look at them. She felt her skin crawl as she looked at the drawings. They were of the same man. Tall. Thin. Faceless. With tentacles. But now they were not alone, on the sides were written letters. On one alone they said many NO. NO. NO. And on another was a sentence written: Don't look out the window.

It lay on a nearby table, its intricate lines and contours waiting to be brought to life once again. With focus, Ariana picked up a pencil and hovered it over the next blank space before her. The sketch held a special meaning, a piece of art that resonated deeply within her. As she began to recreate the lines, her hand moved breathing life into the paper. Ariana immersed herself in the act of drawing. Each stroke of the pencil represented a connection between her imagination and the tangible world. The rhythmic sound of drawing. As she meticulously recreated the details, Ariana's mind wandered, her thoughts drifting towards Mateo. The memory of his kind gesture lingered, intertwining with th

Damn. Another deep breath later I shook my head then moved his sketch aside and started drawing my latest victim instead. Willing my mind to think about my latest kill, I started sketching, fast. The lines, the shape of his slouched body, and the fear show his level of stress without showing off his face. The blood dripping from his stomach made them perfectly in line with the moment his life was slipping away. My wrist moves hurriedly, line after line, shading, shaping Rudy the tattletale. The coloring comes next, then I decided to stop when my back felt too tired to continue.

Luca stared at it, blinked, and then set the pencil down as if it had burned him. He rubbed his knuckles slowly, picking at the callus on his thumb. He didn’t think of himself as particularly good at art, but those bodies came out clear. Realistic. Like something you’d see in crime scene folders rather than in fantasy stories. Drawing was the only thing that didn’t make him stutter. There was no one here to flinch away from. No voice to catch in his throat. Just lines and shapes, accompanied by the quiet click of the pencil moving. He was halfway through sketching a second face, this one was eyeless, just empty sockets, when the door behind him creaked open.

I still have to apologize for what I said in the morning so I can’t afford to leave her side just yet. “It’s my day off.” I simply say without looking at her directly. I pick a couple of brushes while Nat hands me a blank canvas. We all sit in silence and everyone focuses on their drawing. Maybe I need this too because the moment I start mixing colors on the canvas, my mind becomes quiet and for this moment, it’s just me and the horrendous picture of a dog in front of me. “So Drew, what do you do?” Nat suddenly asks and I shrug. “Web design,” I reply. It wasn’t entirely a lie though. I design websites in my free time when I’m not amputating a limb or tracking someone.

But the tablet in her bag was everything. Back in her room that evening, Sarah sat cross-legged on her bed, the tablet propped against her knees. She had downloaded a design application within minutes, her fingers moving with surprising ease across the screen. It had been years since she had drawn seriously, but the muscle memory returned quickly. The curve of a neckline. The drape of a sleeve. The way light fell across fabric.

The drawings were all created using pencils, and one of them depicted a naked woman. The thought of how many naked women Jared had drawn crossed my mind, but I quickly dismissed it. The drawing was truly beautiful. The lines and curves of the woman's body were perfectly executed, making it seem as if I were looking at a real person instead of a drawing. "This is amazing, Jared," I said, not just trying to be polite, but genuinely impressed. Jared brushed off my compliment and continued to flip through the pages, showing me more drawings of naked women. I noticed that their faces were purposely blurred out, and I couldn't help but ask.

“I promise I’ll look at them after teaching you.” “No. My drawings first,” she insisted, her voice rising slightly. “And no more math. I’m done with all those stupid calculations.” Nathan blinked at her, clearly annoyed. “We’re not doing math today,” he muttered. “Just reading and comprehension.” She stared him down, still unmoved. Nathan groaned, shoulders sagging. “Alright,” he finally gave in, waving a hand. “Bring your drawings.” Her face lit up like a child’s, triumphant and beaming.

Sandra said and the woman gave her a huge smile. "Can I ask you for something?" She asked. Sandra didn't want to make promises she would not fulfill but seeing how the woman looked like she was about to cry..she nodded and smiled back. "Can you make him draw you? My Son has never drawn anything ever since that girl broke his heart and left him. He began having hand tremors when he'd want to draw and ever since then...he has stopped drawing a damn thing. He doesn't even write much cause of it." The woman explained.