Weird Things To Draw Novels & Stories

My throat closed. Other side: "ROOM 412 - DAY 1" "Nico—" "I know it's stupid—" "It's not stupid. It's—" I hugged him so hard we fell off chair. My gift for him: I drew us. I'm bad at drawing. Really bad. It's us on our couch. Our plants. Our bad IKEA shelf. On back: "Day 1 to Day 180. We survived." He stared at it for long time. "Babe you drew me with 6 fingers."

I looked at the father and daughter, puzzled, or perhaps wondering if they were playing a prank on me. “Open it, Nathalie.” I took a deep breath then opened the paper. Seeing what was on the paper, I stopped short, completely surprised. It was a vibrant drawing. A woman and a man with round heads, triangular bodies, and stick-like arms and legs. In the space between the woman and the man was a child, all three stick figures had their hands connected. On the other side was a drawing of a large house, its roof a triangle and the rest of the house a square.

People weren't lying when they named him a sexual fiend. Day fourteen starts out like most others. I spend the day occupying myself, trying to keep my mind off the complicated tangle of feelings in my chest, and by midafternoon I'm out at the pool. After swimming a few laps, I settle down in one of the lounge chairs with my journal, still trying desperately to keep my mind occupied. After some consideration, I decide to doodle the spiky plant in the pot next to the chair. It looks a little like something you'd expect to find on an alien planet, so I use that as inspiration, drawing a whole garden of alien plants, plus some spiky-headed alien gardeners to tend them.

Remembering shouldn't be hard but expressing it will be. I think about the various things I have seen in my lifespan. Blood, bullets, pills, dead bodies. I could go on. Most of them aren't really suitable for this environment and explaining it will be impossible. What can I use? There's really nothing I can use that isn't somehow related to my past. Looking over at what Abe's doing, I see that he's drawing I think a scene of trees. Abe draws with these really thin and long lines, which makes his sketch look a lot like an animal's pelt. But I think that's what it is. And there's an outline of mountains in the background. Is that...Lonewood?

They were all pretty convincing. A big spiral-bound notebook made of drawing paper lay on the chair. I flipped through a few pages. Some had charcoal drawings made with angry looking strokes. Dark and rough, but still recognizable as fields and hills you’d find around here. Other pages had diagrams in pen with clusters of spidery notes. Prop guillotines and coffins with spring-loaded lids. But most of the pages had monsters. Some drawn, some cut from movie magazines and pasted in. Some were more Polaroids of James in makeup; others were ordinary pictures of people from advertisements or news stories. On those he’d painted open-throat wounds or gouged out eyes with pen.

She held her drawing book with her and decided to distract herself with one of her favorites. The previous event was still trying to confuse her and all she wanted was to clear her head from it. Just go free. She thought of what to draw, a car? A house? A pathway? A desert? She couldn't even think straight due to how blur her head was. She sighed and set the pencil on the paper, suddenly, an idea popped into her head. What if she tries drawing somome for the first time, instead of just objects and places? The thought niggled at her, but she was a little confused. Who does she draw?

“Are you still drawing?” I blinked. “Yeah… I mean, kind of. Some freelance stuff here and there.” “he’s being modest,” my mom cut in proudly. “River’s drawings were featured in that art walk last month. People couldn’t stop talking about that one with the fog and the tree.” “It was beautiful,” Elliot added, nodding. “I saw it on I*******m.” “Thanks,” I said quietly, feeling heat rise in my face. “I just… like messing with paints.”

Later that night, everything got too quiet. Even the house felt asleep. But my mind wasn’t. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Still thinking. Still replaying everything. Hannah at my house. Hannah with Madison. Hannah talking to my mum like she belonged there. I exhaled sharply. Then got up. I didn’t know why. I just did. Desk light on. Sketchbook open. And without thinking too much— I started drawing. Not plays. Not football. Not anything Coach would approve of.

No wonder Killian couldn’t look me in the eye this morning. I reach for the sketch pad Elara left by the nightstand. My fingers tremble, but I grip the pencil like it’s my lifeline. I don’t even think, I just draw. Symbols. Circles. Eyes with fire spilling from them. A wolf with a shattered spine. A crown that burns. A clock with no hands. My hand stops only when I notice the paper trembling beneath my touch. Not from me. From the floor. A low vibration hums through the wood. Like a warning. Something is coming.

Jared said. "What other things apart from law do you like?" Astra asked. Jared took a deep breath as though it took a lot from him to talk out loud. "I like drawing," he said. Astra raised an eyebrow. "Drawing?" "Yes," he nodded. "Little sketches here and there, nothing special," he continued. Astra rolled her eyes at him. Leave it to Jared to underestimate himself. "I am pretty sure your drawings look phenomenal. You have to let me take a look at them some day, and perhaps draw me too," Astra said.