Someone Drawing Novels & Stories

Coloured chalks in hand, she is deep in concentration. The noisy chatter of the young adults as they take their seats behind her barely registering as she concentrates on the task in hand. She has already drawn the parted legs and rounded arse cheeks and was now working on the pussy lips, the outer labia. Her drawing was graphic in its anatomical correctness and state of arousal.

Queen quarreled playfully. "Chill out its not like I...." "Daddy!!!!" A voice intrups Dennis and they all look to see a young girl ran to meet Dennis, Holding gerald's sketch book. "Uncle tell her to give me my draw painting." Jr ran down, whining. "Daddy you need to see this." Aiden was laughing as she was showing the drawing to Dennis. It was a sketch of two couple without body. Just head, tiny leg and hands it's so hilarious to her.

I asked. For answer, he whipped out a sheet of paper and showed it to us. We all gathered around to take a close look at it. It was a drawing of four people holding hands, with big, identical smiles on their faces. A smiling yellow sun and white clouds hovered above them. The picture was neatly and carefully coloured. "I drew it," Finn said proudly. He looked at each of us in turn, gauging our reactions. "Yesterday, our teacher told us to draw a picture of anything, and I drew this."

Leo cheered, skidding to a halt beside my chair and thrusting the paper right into my lap. I looked down at the drawing, a soft, involuntary smile breaking across my face. It was drawn in bold, vibrant colors. In the center was a stone castle with blue flags on the turrets. Standing in the grass out front were three stick-figure people holding hands. On the left was a figure with black hair in a red dress labeled Mommy. On the right was a broad figure colored in black crayon labeled Mr. Tyson. And right between them, holding both of their hands with a yellow smiley face, was a smaller figure labeled Leo.

5, but I took it anyway. It’s a colored orange pencil with a black rubber where your fingers can't grip. It’s not pricey, and maybe she can use it to draw. I don’t know, I don’t draw, and I’m not very good at art, honestly not good at all. But I was just thinking the 0.5 thing written on the pencil looks so professional, and hopefully she can use it in her drawings. What do I know about art anyway? I can draw people and houses, but they all look like sticks when I draw them.

Like she⁠ was living inside a life she wasn’t sure‌ she deserved. She⁠ sto‌p⁠ped in front o‌f Noah’s‌ draw‍ing⁠s‌ pinn⁠ed near the kitchen‌. ‍Crayon stick figures. Cars. A messy drawing of a‍ll three of them holding‍ hands.‌ She s‍miled softly. Then something caught her attenti⁠on.⁠ A‌ small note att‍ached to one of the drawings. ‍She pulled it cl⁠o‌s⁠er.

He said: "He means more people." We looked at him. He stirred the oatmeal. "He's been drawing more figures for three weeks," he said. "He draws five and then adds more." He paused. "He draws six." He paused. "And then seven." He paused. "Not randomly." He paused. "He draws the family and then he draws more of the family." He paused. "He's documenting what he thinks is coming." He turned from the stove. He looked at us. At me.

"What does your new friend look like, Heidi?" Heidi proudly lifted her drawing. It was a crude, childish sketch of a very tall figure standing between two giant green trees. The figure was colored completely in dark gray and black crayons, but the most unsettling part was the face. Heidi had used a bright yellow crayon to draw two massive, perfectly round circles for the eyes.

"Even when he was talking to other people." I sat down across from her. "You noticed that." "I notice everything," she said without arrogance. Just fact. I looked at what she was drawing. A street scene. Buildings and people moving through them, small and purposeful. She drew people in motion better than anyone I had seen, captured them mid-step, mid-thought, never static. "Are you okay," I said. "Actually. Not the version you tell people." She kept drawing. A long pause that I had learned to let sit rather than fill.

I corrected, caressing his hair with a smile just before one of his other drawings caught my interest. “Can I see this?” I gestured to the drawing of the three stick figures that was beside his current work. “Yes.” “Thanks, sweetie,” I beamed, as I studied the stick figures, wondering who the three people were, although I had an inkling that the two shorter ones were supposed to be him and I. The third one was taller and slightly larger and I couldn't place a finger on who it could be. “Who are these people?” I asked, and he averted his focus from his work in progress to look at the drawing.