Someone Drawing Novels & Stories

"Shut up, Lizzy; you are beginning to disturb me, and don’t allow me to get angry at you." "Good morning, ma’am!" Hilda stood up from the ground and greeted me, but I ignored her; my eyes fell on the drawing she had on the ground. "So, tell me the person you are drawing." She trembled and sidestepped. "Ma’am, I don’t even know. I just drew a man, and if you ask me to redraw that again, I don’t think I will be able to produce that exact picture again." She began picking at her fingers.

She has finally managed to draw his head, but. When she looked at his slightly open collar, she blushed and began feeling stuck again. Her pencil was on the paper, but she didn't know how to start. How should she draw him? She had drawn male models before, but why couldn't she force herself to think of him as an irrelevant model? James had finished smoking the cigarette in his hand and began playing with his phone. It was Thunder Raid again.

I'm just posing with the confidence that they are professionals. They're each sitting on a stool in a horizontal line, watching me. My focus is blank; I'm just staring into space while they draw, but slowly I let my gaze travel to Luca's board. His eyes are fixed on whatever it is he is drawing. He stops, shifts back, folds his arms, tilting his head to the side, whilst the brush pinned between his fingers absently goes to his lips, tapping gently.

That one stung. I brushed a stray curl from her cheek. “What are you drawing?” She hesitated, then flipped the page toward me. It was a sketch of three stick figures. One was tall with black hair, one with long brown hair, and one small in the middle holding both their hands. Ryan. Me. Her. My throat tightened. “That’s beautiful, Molly.” She shrugged. “I was bored.” Claire appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, that look on her face, the one that meant she’d been thinking about something serious.

"Show me a little." Logan looked at the drawing board and then back at Silas. Silas was not smiling but he wasn't being unpleasant either. It was just a simple request. Logan walked over to the drawing board and picked up one of the pencils. He stood there for a second thinking about what to draw. Then he just started. He drew a rough outline of a building first, something simple with clean edges. He worked slowly because he hadn't drawn in a while and his hand felt uncertain if he could do it.

The lines are dark and heavy, pressed so hard into the paper in some places that it’s torn through. There are people in the cars but they’re not drawn like people. They’re shadows, dark shapes with too many limbs, reaching toward each other or maybe reaching for help. I can’t tell which. I look at the drawing for a long moment, then at Jonah. “What’s this about, buddy?” He shrugs one shoulder, looking down at the drawing instead of at me. “Jo?” I keep my voice gentle. “Can you tell me about it?”

God. Everything was fine. Fair. Until the last page. Reasonable honestly. Then she froze. God. Because there was a drawing. Fair. A brand new drawing. Reasonable. Not hers. God. Definitely not hers. Fair. Just scribbles. Reasonable honestly. Lots of scribbles. God. Then one tiny stick figure. Fair. Then another tiny stick figure. Reasonable. Then a tiny circle. God. Everyone stared. Fair. Then Peanut pointed proudly.

he says, "In math class. The teacher always has her back to us while she writes stuff on the board and I never understand any of it anyway. So I was just doodling and I wasn't even sure what I was drawing. It was only now that I thought about it. While you were talking about the Rogues and the packs." He points to the panel on the top left where three figures are talking. It's all drawn in black ink but even so I recognize Esme's fluffy hair, Fulvio looking tall and craggy, and me, small next to him. But my hands are on my hips, my expression is fierce and I look like a boss. I really like how Luka draws me. Also, me and Fulvio have wolf ears.

She lay on the bed, kicking her legs in the air as she coloured her drawing. It didn't come out as planned, but it did look similar to what she pictured in her head. Her short hair was messed up and unnecessarily filled with pins. She hummed, tapping her chin thoughtfully with her head tilted to the side to observe her work. It was still missing something. Sunshine. She picked her yellow coloured pencil and drew a big bright sun.

I can’t seem to take my eyes off it. “Thank you very much.” He says smiling at me. “Do you draw?” he asks looking at me with the same intensity he was looking at the little girl. His focus is a little intimidating; I’m not used to people looking at me like that. I’m used to disappearing in the background. “No, I do not.” I say smiling at him too. Why would he think I draw? “I can barely draw a stick man.” I say truthfully. I don’t even own a pencil.