Silly Drawings 소설 & 이야기

Kabir asked, placing his hands gently on Kavish's shoulders. Kavish looked up, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I'm making a family drawing, Daddy! See!" He proudly turned the paper toward Kabir, revealing a colorful array of bear-like figures, each one distinctly different in size. Above each bear, he had written names with arrows pointing to their respective figures: Edhaa, Kavish, Mumma, and Daddy. Kabir's heart swelled with warmth as he took in the artwork. "Wow! Breaking all the crockery kind of helped, huh?" he chuckled, a smile spreading across his face.

He whines and I laugh at him. I raffles his hair and hold his face in my palms. “So… how is handsome Denzel doing today?” “I’m fine! Here….” He reaches for a drawing book next to him on the bed and shows me a page where drew…. Ah! I don’t even know what he drew! But I guess it’s some cartoons. “… Look, Anna, I drew hulk and captain America!” “Oh… “ I take a closer look and frown, why doesn’t they look like the hulk and captain America I know?

It was just one of those things that happened or maybe because I was just a pre teenager, I did not really feel the effect of things. While I stayed at home, I made a lot of drawings and still loved to formulate my characters. I made paintings on cardboard with bluntly colored pencils for my church community and wrote messages beneath them. I drew a pictorial image of Hell Fire once and wrote beneath "hell is real" those drawings were cute despite how child like and unreal they looked.

He unzipped his bag, pulling out a crumpled sheet of paper and smoothing it proudly across the coffee table. Three stick figures stood beneath a wobbly sun- one tall, one small, and one with long, wild brown hair that was clearly me. He had even drawn me in a wedding dress and... sneakers?Above it, in crooked, uneven letters, he had written: Me, Daddy and Mummy. My throat tightened for reasons I couldn’t name. I’d seen lots of unrealistic drawings made by kids, but this one… this one had to be the worst of it all.

“Mama’s busy. Daddy is sick. But I made drawings.” “I can’t wait to see them.” He pulls me by the hand, dragging me to the living room floor. I sit down beside him as he flips through several sheets of colorful scribbles—some are stick figures, others are clumsy hearts and stars. “This one is Mama. And that’s Daddy. And that’s me,” he explains, pointing at one picture. “Looks like you have a new little family, huh?” I tease. He nods proudly. “Daddy’s nice to Mama. He smiles a lot. Not like before.”

We arrived at their tent to find them drawing. “There are my favorites.” Karson beamed, kneeling in front of them for a hug. “Daddy!” Carl and Karin squealed, jumping into his arms. “What are you two drawing?” I asked. They pulled the papers to show two figures that look like male caricatures and a female caricature of me with crazy hair fighting someone on the ground. “Let me guess, that is me, your daddy, and uncle Lucas fighting the evil lady.” I gestured at the drawings.

I always lock it before leaving the premises. “But I… Did I…” Brushing it off, I pull the mini door open, and yelp when a heap of papers rains on me as if waiting for me to open it all along. I stay still for a moment, just blinking at the drawings. They’re ugly exaggerated images of me; big head, messy hair, thin legs… I’m as tiny as a doll, while a big guy towers over me, his pants down, and I’m choking on his… What?! My heart drops.

I teased, and she giggled shyly. I laughed at her reaction and turned to the next page, then stopped. My eyes stayed fixed on it. Even though the drawing was a messy mix of colors, I could still make out the shape of a house and a stick-figure family. The people had round heads, long legs, and no necks. "Who are they, princess?" I asked curiously. Julie giggled and started pointing at the drawing. “This one here is Daddy!” she said, pointing at the tallest stick figure.

she says, very serious for someone whose ponytail is halfway to falling off. “Really?” I lean forward and catch the watercolor box before it drops. “Tell me all about it.” She sits up, shifting again: legs tucked under, one knee up, sketchbook on her lap. She flips to the middle. The page is full of doodles. There’s a drawing of a round table, four little stick figures with names floating over their heads: ME, CLARA, LEO, ANAÏS. In the middle of the table, a small box labeled in big letters: “CRAYON (NO EAT!)”

Instead of continuing to do my homework, I decide to grab my old sketchbook and pencils and start drawing something even though I haven't touched this drawing kit in two years since I started having fun with my computer and cell phone. I start drawing silly things at first, cars and animals like I did when I was little, but then I realize that I'm still good. Maybe even better than before. I start drawing people and buildings and entertain myself that way for who knows how long, until my father comes into my room once he gets home.