Back in England the same girl was at home after going to school. She had a
ton of homework and was writing her English essay on the computer but kept
on stopping every three minutes because something else had her undivided
attention; her sketch pad. Finally, after what seemed like hours she shut
down her computer, picked up her pencils a flipped to the first clean page
she saw. Her hands seemed to be moving of their own accord to draw what she
had started seeing two hours ago.
She sat on the floor for over an hour, using 2b's 4b's and even hb's when she ran out of proper art pencils. The phone rang several times but she ignored it, there were other pictures in her pad, which were quite good, but this drawing was almost being born.
Her fingers were soon black from smudging; a dark thumbprint was left on her cheek as she tried to rub away her sudden exhaustion. The sketch was almost done and she refused to sleep until it had been completed. Her fingers were beginning to hurt and the finger she leant her pencil against had a massive, red dent in it.
Faces emerged from the pencil-covered page, first a boy, then a girl and more followed. Though they were drawn with unimaginable accuracy they each seemed to be missing tiny details, which left them looking slightly faded. Not all of them were drawn like this though.
A boy who was in the centre was so lifelike that he could have been standing yards in front of the others. No matter where you looked you were drawn to him, and not just because of his strange appearance. The girl stared at his face, why had she drawn him? All the other characters were completely normal so why did he have such striking differences? These people had been dancing around her mind all day, the same people from her dream.
Everything seemed so strange and déjà vu suddenly began to bother her. Something was so familiar about that boy but she was sure she'd never seen him. She yawned loudly and decided that she'd better go up to her room and have a rest even though it was only late afternoon. But not before she put her name and a little note in the corner of the page:
Louise Triban, soon 2 b 16! ^_^
She sat on the floor for over an hour, using 2b's 4b's and even hb's when she ran out of proper art pencils. The phone rang several times but she ignored it, there were other pictures in her pad, which were quite good, but this drawing was almost being born.
Her fingers were soon black from smudging; a dark thumbprint was left on her cheek as she tried to rub away her sudden exhaustion. The sketch was almost done and she refused to sleep until it had been completed. Her fingers were beginning to hurt and the finger she leant her pencil against had a massive, red dent in it.
Faces emerged from the pencil-covered page, first a boy, then a girl and more followed. Though they were drawn with unimaginable accuracy they each seemed to be missing tiny details, which left them looking slightly faded. Not all of them were drawn like this though.
A boy who was in the centre was so lifelike that he could have been standing yards in front of the others. No matter where you looked you were drawn to him, and not just because of his strange appearance. The girl stared at his face, why had she drawn him? All the other characters were completely normal so why did he have such striking differences? These people had been dancing around her mind all day, the same people from her dream.
Everything seemed so strange and déjà vu suddenly began to bother her. Something was so familiar about that boy but she was sure she'd never seen him. She yawned loudly and decided that she'd better go up to her room and have a rest even though it was only late afternoon. But not before she put her name and a little note in the corner of the page:
Louise Triban, soon 2 b 16! ^_^