Someone Drawing Novels & Stories

“I don't know currently, I'll tell you later. And you can't laugh not tell anyone, not even Carmen, Promise??” This must be something great, since Carmen must not see it. “You've my words, simply get your ass up and allow me to see.” Katie sat in her seat and Robert got on one knee close to her with his elbow on the desk. She lifted the cover a portion of an inch, then shut it. “Try not to chuckle.” Robert didn't giggle or say anything. The drawing was of a female champion with her feet broadly planted and her arms over her head, using a giant club. She was wearing boots that went dependent upon her knees, and that's it.

Bright, messy, unmistakably Ava’s drawing. Title across the top in Miss Rachel's neat printing: "My Family." There's Elena in a blue dress—too tall, stick-figure arms reaching toward a smaller figure that must be Ava. Mrs. Patel stands to the left, recognizable by the bun Ava has drawn with careful circles. And there, separated by a deliberate space of white paper, stands a tall figure in what might be running clothes. Blue eyes and a sad smile. "Who's this?" My voice sounds like it's coming from underwater.

A minute later Keyla heard cupboard doors opening in the kitchen. Leo, at the table with paper and crayons, was drawing something he'd been working on since breakfast. Three figures in a house — the same round heads and stick bodies he always used, circles for heads, lines for bodies, and a square structure around them with a door. He'd labeled none of them, which was unusual; Usually there would already be letters beside each figure. Something seemed to occur to him. He switched crayons and went back to the drawing. Only then did Keyla look away from the contract. She leaned slightly toward the drawing. "Who's that?"

For some reason, her instincts immediately told her this conversation wasn't as simple as it sounded. The teacher offered a small smile. "Hazel draws very well." Aurora nodded. "She loves drawing." "But after she finished..." The teacher opened a thin folder she had been carrying. Then pulled out a sheet of paper. Aurora immediately recognized the drawing. Herself. Darius. Hazel. Their house. And a dog they didn't even own. A very typical child's drawing. But there was one additional figure in the corner of the page. A man. Standing a little apart from everyone else.

I watch him work. He is drawing something, not writing. The letters he was making at first are on the top half of the page, but he has moved on now to a drawing that I cannot quite see from where I am sitting, and he is making it with the slow deliberate movements of a child who has a very specific image in his head and is trying to translate it accurately. The kettle clicks off. I do not get up. "Grey?" "Yes." "What are you drawing?" He does not look up.

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.

I had to be the one to collect the cash they had to pay before taking a picture. As I'm handing out a couple of their changes, Bryson and Elena approached me. Bryson was handsomely dressed in his black tuxedo, black tie, with a white inner shirt, an expensive silver watch, and shiny leather shoes, while Elene was attired in a mini dress and heels. Her dark pixie hair is styled in curls, and her makeup is beautifully done. "2 dollars for a pic," I said quickly, keeping my eyes on the floor flashing with red lights as Elena glared at me.

"I am fine." "Aurelia, tell your father to sit down." She did not even look up. "Daddy, sit." He paused, then pulled out a tiny chair and sat. I bit my lip to hide my smile. Aurelia was concentrating hard, her tongue poking out slightly. "What are you drawing?" I asked. "A house," she replied. She pointed at a tall stick figure. "There is you. That is Daddy. That is me." "And who is that?" I pointed to a fourth figure.

She’d taken an interest in drawing lately, and it had stuck more than her previous interests had. But then again, she’s only five. There was plenty of time for her to find herself yet. “This is me, this is Mommy, this is Daddy, this is you Uncle Kells, and Aunt Gemi, Simon, Sawyer and Sadie,” she frowns. “I couldn’t draw Uncle Haden and Aunt Gemi big, so they are small.” She points to the smaller figures at the side. I notice another figure drawn in between Lucy and the figure who is supposed to be me, smaller than everyone and beaming.

“It’s just—” He popped the clasp. Inside, nestled between a worn napkin and a tiny plastic fork, was a drawing — bent at the edges from handling. Two stick figures, one big with dark straight hair and another smaller one with dark curls holding hands. Varian looked at it for a long, heavy moment. Then his voice came low, quieter than she’d ever heard it. “This is a child’s drawing. Whose is it, Liora?”