Sans Drawing Novels & Stories

His tone was casual, but there was a spark in his eyes that made my chest tighten. We slowed down as the trail curved, the trees thickening around us. I felt a strange mix of nerves and curiosity. “What do you like to draw?” I asked, genuinely intrested “People,” he said, after a pause. “Not just faces. Movements, the way someone carries themselves. Sometimes I try to capture… the way someone feels without them saying anything.” He shrugged, almost as if dismissing it, but I caught the intensity behind the words. “That sounds kind of amazing,” I said softly. I didn’t want to smile too much, but I couldn’t help it. “I wouldn’t know where to start with something like that.”

The woman behind the counter wrapped them in tissue paper without being asked and Daniel felt something loosen slightly in his chest at the small unnecessary kindness of it. Outside Leo looked at the bag. “Notebooks,” he said. “I draw sometimes,” Daniel said. “When I’m thinking.” “What do you draw?” Daniel considered. “Whatever is in front of me mostly. It’s less about making something and more about looking at something properly.” He shifted the bag to his other hand. “You look at something differently when you’re drawing it. You actually see it instead of just registering that it’s there.” Leo nodded slowly. “That’s interesting.”

He climbed onto the sofa beside her and opened the notebook. Crayon lines filled the page. Bright colors. Simple shapes. But the drawing was recognizable. Three stick figures stood side by side beneath a large sun. Evelyn had seen similar drawings from him before. Usually the same three figures. A woman. A child. And a tall man with darker shading around the eyes. Silas held the notebook proudly. “Do you like it?” Evelyn forced a soft smile. “It’s beautiful.” He studied the picture carefully. Then pointed to the tallest figure.

If they had lollipops between their pink lips I’d probably die. “I’m Jessie,” the first one says. “I’m Jenna,” the next one says. They’re clearly nervous so I waste no time motioning for them to sit. “So, what are you girls into,” I ask, rubbing my already sweaty hands on my jeans. They look at each other and then down at the table. I see both of their eyes fall on my drawing and I blush. I’ve never shown my doodles to anyone, my parents didn’t encourage me to draw, whining that it wouldn’t pay the bills.

Alice I walk over to the flip chart and pick up a red marker. There aren't a lot of colors to work with: green, blue, red, and black, but I think I can create something that will grab Nathan's attention. While music blasts, my hands work their magic. A smile is stretched across my lips, and I pick up my red plastic cup to drink while creating my hilarious art on this paper. I'm drawing a portrait of Nathan, but I'm being bold. This is Picasso's style I'm using for inspiration.

Agnes ceased to even gaze in her direction after a while. The kindly old man grinned and said: - Maybe the two of you confiding is enough, next, let's watch a little drama for more drama. His workers worked fast to bring a massive screen in front of the two of them, and oddly, the same situation came up on the screen as it did on the screen in front of them. Nevertheless, she was able to observe that the other two women were highly distinct from one another. the same as her and Agnes, but with tape over their mouths and blindfolds over their eyes. In what aspect of the game does he engage that Doris is oblivious to her participation?

Sinclair, the visual teacher, approached me. I felt shy at her comment and wondered if she was telling the truth or just being kind to me. I settled for the last thought. She led me towards the picture booth. "I'll do good, Ms. Sinclair," I said after she walked off, right after showing me the picture booth box. She nodded, and I slapped my head, wishing I'd said nothing. I haven't been here for five minutes, and I'm already showing my weirdness. I cursed myself. Shortly, couples were popping up, and the party began. Some came to take pictures. Since the school couldn't afford a better picture booth machine. I had to be the one to collect the cash they had to pay before taking a picture.

“You really think about everything, don’t you?” He shrugged. “Because if it bleeds through, the drawing looks ugly.” We walked toward the cashier with a cart now filled with simple items yet full of meaning. While waiting in line, Noah stood calmly beside me, not jumping around, not whining. Every now and then, he glanced at the contents of the cart, making sure everything was still there.

Beside me, Noah kept his notebook open but wasn't writing anything down. I grew curious when I noticed the gentle movement of the pen between his fingers. I leaned subtly, and my eyes widened as I realized what he was doing. Noah was drawing. The page of his notebook was filled with delicate lines taking shape. It was a sketch of intertwined hands, so full of detail and emotion that it looked almost real. Each stroke was made with care, as if the whole world had disappeared for him, except for that paper. "Wow…" I murmured before I realized it.

Drawing was becoming her favourite thing lately. Not because she was good at it. Because drawing felt quiet. Safer than talking. Safer than thinking. She sketched fields from memory. The farmhouse. The oak tree. Her father standing beside the fence. She always drew him smiling. Always. Daisy sat beside her colouring badly inside the lines. Very badly. Jessica looked over. "The sky isn't purple." Daisy looked offended. "It can be." "No it can't." "Can too." Jessica rolled her eyes.