Weird Things To Draw Novels & Stories

I still have a class to catch. I arrived at school and it’s so boring. The professor sounded like a lullaby when discussing, causing me to gently close my eyes. The words were inaudible and I couldn’t seem to focus. This isn’t the first time, and I need to do something to kill the time. I started drawing to ease my boredom. I just freely drew what came into my mind, and to my surprise, it was Taddeio. The guy who saved me from danger. I had annoyingly crumpled the scratch paper and was about to throw it away when I realized I was in the classroom and this was not my room. I sighed in relief when no one noticed what I was about to do. I hit myself with a pen and continually remind myself how

he continued, his voice now a conspiratorial whisper, "there's a legend that says if you find a four-leaf clover, you'll have good luck forever? I've spent countless hours searching for one, but they're rarer than you'd think!" Sebastian's tales of randomness flowed effortlessly, each anecdote a stepping stone away from the precipice of my anxieties. He regaled me with stories of peculiar cloud shapes that looked like mythical creatures, of quirky animal behaviors he'd observed during his childhood, and of the sheer absurdity of finding faces in everyday objects. It was as though he were constructing a whimsical tapestry of the mundane, weaving it into an enchanting distraction from the inex

Corrian says as we pass a reading nook with oversized bean bag chairs and a shelf full of books no toddler would read. I catch one title, ‘Teeth Are Not for Biting (But Sometimes They Are)’. I raise an eyebrow. “Special how?” He doesn’t answer. We pass a hallway lined with artwork. Crayon drawings, finger paints, but some of them are odd. Red scribbles in circular patterns, shapes that look more like symbols than animals. One has a giant black figure drawn with scratchy lines and tiny words underneath it. I lean closer. ‘The Bad Ones Are Coming.’

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.

"What does your new friend look like, Heidi?" Heidi proudly lifted her drawing. It was a crude, childish sketch of a very tall figure standing between two giant green trees. The figure was colored completely in dark gray and black crayons, but the most unsettling part was the face. Heidi had used a bright yellow crayon to draw two massive, perfectly round circles for the eyes.

Still here, I said softly. Eli made a small satisfied sound and leaned back against my chest and looked at the room from this new vantage point with the calm interest of someone who had upgraded their view and approved of the change. I looked at the drawings above the bed. Marker on paper in the bold oversaturated colours of someone who had been given a full set and had used all of them. Shapes that suggested things rather than depicting them. A large yellow circle that was probably the sun and possibly also a face. Several figures of varying sizes that may have been people or animals or both. What appeared to be a house. What appeared to be something flying.

I couldn't sleep. Desperate for an escape, I grabbed a sheet of heavy art paper and began drawing. My hands shook as I began to draw, letting my raw emotion guide the strokes. Within minutes, James's face began to emerge from the stark white paper. I stared intensely into his eyes through the charcoal lines, feeling a dangerous, intoxicating connection to a ghost.

“I saw it a while ago, and for some reason, it really stuck with me. So I drew it. But I didn’t know why.” I tear my eyes away from the sketch, looking at him. “You didn’t tell me.” He shrugs, looking faintly uncomfortable. “I kind of… forgot about it for a while. I mean, I see weird things all the time, you know? Half of them don’t make sense, so I don’t dwell. But something about this one… It bothered me. A lot. And I couldn’t figure out why.” I glance back at the drawing, my fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the page. “And now?”

But most importantly, the drawings were odd. They displayed bizarre objects, or people holding or doing something that doesn't make sense. There was one of a man standing on water, and he seemed to be shovelling down on the flowing water, and there was another and it looked like something had just broken something on her head... but she was smiling. The boy kept flipping the pages open, letting her look at his drawings before abruptly stopping at a particular page. His finger tapped at a certain drawing on the page, and what Rhiannon saw made her heart almost stop.

“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.”