Someone Drawing Novels & Stories

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.

The girl was a talkative—something I loved about her. "And why are you still up?" My gaze fell on his drawing book. "Drawing something?" He nodded and sat back on the floor. I took a closer look at the drawing. It was a weird one. Xylon was definitely going to be a good artist when he grew up. But for now, his sketches were still amateurish. Observing carefully, I could tell it was a rough sketch of a man. At least, that was what it looked like. The person had beards and a moustache with a hoodie over his head. The drawing looked poor and unclear, but this was what I could make out.

He smiled. "Just stay still," I watched him open his bag and brought out drawing pencils and pad. And just like that he began to draw. "What are you drawing?" I asked, trying to peer into the pad. "Shssh! Just stay still." He whispered, raising up the sketchpad to prevent me from seeing it. I chuckled and leaned my hands on the grass, relaxing my body so I could be comfortable. Dan looked at me as he draw, that's when I realized what he was doing. Dan was drawing me? I gasped in surprise. He smiled as he continued.

But between the buildings, there are people. An old woman on the bus, her hands folded over a shopping bag. A man reading a paper, his glasses sliding down his nose. A little girl with her face pressed to a car window, her breath fogging the glass. A couple fighting on a street corner, their mouths open, their bodies turned away from each other. He draws strangers. He draws them the way he drew me. Like he is trying to understand something about them. Like the pencil is how he asks questions. "You are really good," I say.

"Hey, kiddo." Her big blue eyes beam in happiness. "What are you drawing?" I ask, walking over to the abandoned paper she was working on moments before. She catches up to me taking my hand, she then leads me the rest of the way to the drawing. I pick up the picture and look it over, there's a yellow sun in the top corner with grey clouds around it. Towards the bottom is two people, both stick figures, ones taller with short hair and the others shorter with long hair. The two people are holding hands.

Sighing heavily, he continued drawing not wanting to divert his attention. Her cute egg-shaped eyes roamed around disturbing him to another level. Sanskar lifted his eyes from his drawing board and drifted it towards the side where the girl was standing. She was lost in the painting. Her priceless expression makes him giggle. She is indeed a cute bubbly girl and he is attracted for sure.

Gratefully. "Did you work on anything?" asks Dane. "As in art homework?" I ask back. "Yeah." "I did the ten sketches, if that's what you're talking about," I say as I pull out my book. Opening it up to the page, I show him. "I like that one," says Dane as he points at one that I made of Rupert at his house. Rupert sits on the porch, and look out at the huge grassy yard. He sits resolutely and above is the sky and clouds drawn in wavy pencil lines.

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