Sonic Drawing Books Novels & Stories

"Those are my books." Lucas walked closer. Storybooks. Adventure books. Animal books. He smiled. "Do you like reading?" Leo gasped. "I LOVE reading." Lucas laughed. "Really?" "Really." "What is your favorite book?" Leo immediately started talking. And talking. And talking. Lucas listened carefully. Every word felt precious. Because this was something he had missed. The chance to know his son. --- After a while, Leo opened a drawer. "Look." He pulled out dozens of drawings.

“Can’t wait to see it. So, what do you say I help you stock up? You’ll need supplies for all that serious art.” He guided me to an aisle filled with drawing books, pencils, and every crayon color I could imagine. I picked out a big sketchbook with blank pages, perfect for my next dragon masterpiece. Uncle Liam even helped me choose crayons and pencils, ones in colors like “sunset orange” and “mermaid teal.” Once I had my art supplies, we found Rhett’s favorite section—books about dinosaurs. His face lit up as he ran his fingers over the covers, picking out a thick book filled with dinosaur pictures and facts, plus a few comic books about a dino superhero.

His voice was bright and impatient, the sound that kept me grounded every day. My son. My everything. My Lionel. He came running into the kitchen, barefoot and wild-haired, a sketchbook clutched in his tiny hands. “Look what I made!” he announced, eyes glowing the same golden-hazel shade as his father’s. “Look, mamá! Look what I drew!” I knelt, kissed his cheek, and flipped through his pages. Crayon dragons, crooked hearts, messy stars. “What beautiful chaos have we got here today, mi vida?”

“Yes, ma’am.” As she moves toward the flat-screen across the room, I return to the suitcase, pulling out one of Liam’s sketchbooks. The cover is bent, the corners smudged with fingerprints, but inside? Dinosaurs. Rainbows. One drawing of a house with three stick figures: one tall, one medium, one small. He’d labeled them—Mommy, Liam, and Daddy Knoxx. I press the sketchbook to my chest and try not to cry. The TV clicks on.

I began to hear whispers. “He doesn’t,” I heard another. “He’s only pitying the poor thing. A handsome person like him could never fall for someone as ugly as her.” Hurt by their words, I immediately walked from the cafeteria, fighting back tears. Ms. Sinclair, the visual art teacher, stopped me in the hallway. She wanted me to help her after school to organize some books.

For a little guy, he is way too good. There are all different kinds of drawings that are too neat, I shuffle through them, trying to find one to stick on our fridge in the kitchen. I smile to myself when I come across a picture of him and I then there's Jasmine and even Alex, with and without devil horns— that makes me laugh. I pass by other boyish things, like cars, dragons, dogs, dinosaurs and ninjas, lots and lots of them.