The Most Beautiful Sketch

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
When the pages are torn off, the drawings become real.

Submitted: July 16, 2015

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 16, 2015



All types of feedback wanted, please

A small line of light disturbed the quiet darkness, followed by a creaking sound, as the wooden door is pushed open even more. A figure jumped into the room and just as quickly, turned around and closed the door, slowing his nervous pace just before the door completely sealed itself, just to avoid any possible sound it could make.

In the darkness, all you hear are small shallow breaths as the intruder lightly kicks whatever objects are on the floor away "Beck?" A hushed voice whispered.

No response.

The shadow crept closer and stretched out his hands till he felt the softness of the covers. His hands roamed the bed sheets till he felt the covers stretch up significantly, and traced the body till he found the shoulders and pushed them. "Beck." He uttered again, this time shaking the body. "Beck!" He said even louder this time and increased his shaking.

"Mmm?" Beck finally muttered back drowsily. "What is it?" She asked as she shoved away his hands away to stop the shaking and breathed in deeply, stretching out her arms, coming out of a peaceful sleep.

A beat passed. He didn't think about what he would say if she asked him what was wrong. All he wanted was just to be in her presence "I can't sleep," Dylan ended up whispering, as he sat down on the corner of the bed. This caught Becks attention and she clenched her eyes in the darkness, before pushing past her deep drowsiness and sitting up. She already knew what to do in these cases.

She threw off her covers and crawled to the edge of her bed, where her young brother sat and engulfed him into a hug "Damn it, I should have known something was wrong, you were too quiet at dinner tonight." She murmurs in his hair "What's wrong, c'mon, you can tell me." She asked even though she knew he probably wouldn't tell her much.

Dylan hugged back, already feeling the sadness from his heart disappear a little from the warmth of the embrace. But he said nothing back. He didn't want to seem any more of a baby than he was already acting.

From his silent response, Beck already knew what was the problem was. "Were you thinking about dad?" She asked, letting her arms fall gently back to her side. He made a slight grimace from her words, but she could tell it wasn't about their father "Or is it about those boys again?" She asked, testing the waters. Dylan looked down and opened his mouth to speak but ended up closing them instead. He really didn't want to go into details.

"You can't let them get to you," Beck whispered, tracing the stitching from his blue shirt. "They're the losers here. Hurting someone else for fun." Disgust coated her words "Be glad you aren't like that, already having so muc-"

Not this again he groaned mentally "No, Beck, just-I- no." He had a hard time voicing his thoughts already. All he wanted was for her to stop her from beginning her ranting. The words burned his mind. He knew she would say all this stuff, but the thought didn't stop him from seeking her in the middle of the night. "Forget it, sis, just-I- just forget it."

Beck breathed out, holding in her words. She understood him. He didn't want advice, he just wanted to forget it all. He doesn't like his emotions all out on the table. "Wanna draw?" She asked. Even in the pure blackness, Dylan already knew she had a smile on her face.

"Please," He sounded grateful.

Beck pushed the sheets from her legs and hopped off her bed in a flash. Dylan laughed quietly at her excitement and turned to the lamp on her nightstand and twisted it on. When he turned around, his sister had her back turned, her long, bright electric blue hair seemed to glow against her black tank top and white shorts. She already had her sketchbook in her left hand and was grabbing her pouch full of colored pencils.

She turned around, "No, keep the lights off." She motioned toward the lamp with her head.

Dylan loved it when she drew in the dark. He quickly obeyed and twisted the knob back to off again.

As soon as the room was once again in deep blackness, Beck pushed her rolling chair back and sat down. Dylan was by then already kneeling by her side. Beck stretched over and pulled open the curtains, allowing the moonlight to light her desk enough for her to draw.

Dylan stayed silently by her side and watched his sisters smile grow wider. He knew by now not to request things to be drawn, but to let her do as she pleases.  The only sound heard was of the scrawling done by the pencils.

He couldn't help though but peek a little, but at his angle, he couldn't quite tell what she was sketching. His curiosity was booming but knew it was better not to know, the surprise was always worth it.

It took less than five minutes of dedicated silence and aching knees on Dylan's part before Beck said "Okay, ready?"

"Always," Dylan replied. Their identical brown eyes met with equal enthusiasm.

Beck then grabbed the paper and tore it off her notebook. A burst of colors that sprouted from the spirals of her book soon lite up the room with a dramatic flair. And as soon as the last hole was removed from the spiral of the notebook, did the dull room explode with mixtures of light blues and whites, hints of pink and purple, just a range of all the colors you can imagine.

Dylan was in awe as always before a giant smile formed on his face. Dylan then launched himself into the packs of bubbles that were mixed together in the center of the room. They then shot away from each other and floated gently among the room.

The drawings of the bubbles shined in the dark room, making Dylan's face glow with different colors at the same time. He was smiling as he kept hitting the bubbles back in the air. His bottom lip was in between his teeth. They had to keep the volume down just in case their mum, who's an extremely light sleeper, woke up.

 And even though Beck was away from the array of bright colors, her face glowed just as much, but with warmth. She always tried to help her brother in any way she can, trying to make his puberty and teen years easier than hers was and if it was by just drawing that made him forget his troubles, then she'd take it.

Beck was only 14 years old when their family went away on a cruise to the Bahamas, where she first laid her eyes down on the beautiful cover that was a sketchbook. It was a painting with white chalk of a young women wearing a hooded jacket. Something so simple caught her hearts attention as she gazed into the drawn women's hypnotizing eyes. She had grabbed the book and examined it closer, flipping through the pages of black paper.

"You like that?" asked the dark skinned women behind the cart, which made Beck jump

 in surprise slightly, "It's only seven dollars." The lady continued.

Becks mum gave her $10 so she can go buy a beautiful piece of jewelry somewhere along the shops, but this notebook seemed more important than a necklace.

Beck paused momentarily, wondering if her mum would get mad for wasting her money on an over priced sketchbook, before deciding that there was probably somewhere here that sold a decent bracelet for only three bucks anyways and handed the women over her crumpled ten dollar bill.

Beck opened her sketchbook again, noting how the pages are beginning to get low. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought. What if she never finds another magical book like this again?

She swallowed her worry, there's no point in trying to preserve these papers. They're gonna run out eventually.

She turned to a new page and used her scissors to cut the page in half, as a way of doubling her papers, and drew once more quickly, before ripping out the page.

The bright colors that formed from another page being torn off caught Dylan's attention. He didn't even get to look around the room to see what new thing had been created before he realized the floor was no longer solid and that he was viewing the room at a new height.

He gave a big smile "Yes!" He told her in an excited whisper before beginning to bounce on the decent sized trampoline below him. A little laugh managed to escape his lips.

Beck stretched her legs out while sitting on her desk chair, watching her brother jump around the room, grateful that the trampoline didn't make much noise. She watched as he was in the air, twisting, stretching to tap another bubble, doing flips. It was all so amusing to her.

After a few minutes, she could hear him breathing hard from all the exercise and saw that he slowed down a little before stopping completely. His face was drenched with sweat and he wore his smile on his face permanently "Can you draw me like, a basketball hoop, or something?" He asked excitedly.

Beck sat upright "Of course I can," She smiled before spinning her chair around.

"Thank you," She heard from behind Dylan say, hearing the slight bouncing start up again.

It was the loud pounding against the door that made both kids freeze. They must have been too loud.

Even in the darkness, both wore the same expression of horror. Wide eyes, mouths slightly open, the adrenaline pumping in their veins. "Open up now," they heard their mum say tensely. Her strong British accent made her words sound dark.

While Dylan dashed toward the bedside, feeling his way till he found the lamp and pulled the metal string, Beck had gathered the few sheets of paper she used and rapidly ripped them in half.

The work that glowed in the air diminished instantly and Beck stood up quickly, walked past her brother and opened the door.

There stood their mum with her light pink robe on and her arms folded. Her face looked as if she was holding in the outburst. "It's past midnight, why are any of you even up?" she hissed, looking mainly at Beck. She wasn't surprised to find the accusation mostly pointed at her. Nor did she really care much.  It's not long till she's 18 and able to move out and never have to deal with her mum ever again.

"I just wante-" Dylan started before their mum shushed him and stuck out her pointer finger in his direction.

"Are you Rebecca?" The mum looked down at her son, who said nothing in reply. "No. I didn't think so. So unless I have a second daughter with the same name, I suggest then that you go to your room. Right now. And turn off the light. Then sleep. I don't want to hear another peep coming from your room either, you got that?" Small veins on her forehead formed, not an unusual sight to see, for their mum always gets angry when she thinks that what they're doing is wrong.

"Yes, mother." Replied Dylan in the same monotone voice he always replies to her with.

Their mum focused more on her son and grabbed a small portion of his hair and rubbed it with her hands "And why are you all wet and sweaty?" She asked disgustedly. "You know what? I don't even want to know, just go." She dismissed him without another word. Dylan snuck a quick glance at Beck and saw she was just staring at the floor with her jaw slightly clenched, before walking to his room.

Mum stared intensely at Beck till they heard Dylan's door slam shut. Beck ignored her.

"Now if I have to wake up again to any sound coming from behind your door at this late at night, again, there will be consequences." muttered mum "I'm being nice now; I'm forgiving you both and allowing you all just to go on and sleep."

"Mum, listen-"  Beck began.

"No, I don't want to listen to what you have to say right now," Mum said angrily, eyeing her daughter up and down.  She always hated how unnaturally blue her daughter's hair was. How she doesn't seem to actively involved with school work or extracurricular activities like how she did when she was a teenager. She always wonders what her husband would have thought if he saw his "little girl" today. "Lights off." Was all she had to say before turning around and walking toward the direction of her own room.

Beck breathed in a collecting breath before turning around and closing her door.

She walked towards her bed and sat down, her knees to her forehead and just breathed in some more. She hated getting mum mad, mostly because of her eyes. Her eyes when she's mad, how they gaze down at her, judge her harshly without even saying the words.  Disappointment, disgust, anger. The emotions in her eyes were endless. 

Neither of the two ever really say it aloud to each other, but they both wish father was still here. He loved Becks artwork and praised her on her independence, he also gave their mum a peace of mind by calming her when she got very angry or paranoid.

After he died in a car crash when she was 12, things changed. The household once joyful and happy turned strict and angry. Beck nor Dylan could never really please their overachieving mother.

Beck sat upright and looked around her room. Her room wasn't more messy than usual and she was grateful for that. She walked over to her desk and saw the torn pages she ripped. She sighed at the sight. Beck much rather prefer to fold drawings so she can save them instead of ripping them in half, cause after they're ripped, the papers are no longer magical.

Beck threw away the pages and sat on her chair. She wondered how Dylan was doing now. He could be either asleep, feeling guilty, or thinking about whatever had him down tonight.  Beck wanted to so desperately go back and comfort him, but the wrath that their mum will bring down if they're caught was not worth it at all. Besides, mum is probably listening like a hawk now.

She decided that she'd just talk to him tomorrow.

Even from the night's events, Beck was feeling tired still, so sleeping won't be a problem tonight. It’s the hole that she's feeling in her heart that’s distracting her. She just wished her mum would just stop with the burning gaze she always gave her. Beck knew her mum hated almost everything about her. The bright blue hair, the mascara and eyeliner, most of her clothing, her below average grades, her natural rebellious mindset and always going out on weekends. Mum wanted a girl that had natural hair, makeup only on certain events, appropriate clothing and was an AP master. Beck knew she was a disappointment to her mum. But Beck honestly didn't care what she thought. Beck loved her hair, personality and looks, but deep inside she was just a daughter who wished to have a connection with her only parent.

Beck pulled open her lower right drawer, which was filled with old school work, and dug through the tattered remains of her old work till she found her dark purple art folder from 9th grade. In it, is where she has a couple folded papers that she keeps to herself. The first one she pulled out was the one she always went to on nights like these.

Beck unfolded her favorite paper and looked at her drawing. It was her first drawing that she ever saved, and the one she opens the most. She liked staring at the details of color, how well they blended together. She spent a lot of time on this drawing. The drawing of her father.

She lowered her paper to find her dad standing in front of her. The sight of him always filled that hole right up. It's a reminder that he always loved her and her "different" personality.

She stood up and hugged him, wishing that he was real and he was here.

The father drawing didn't reply. He doesn't talk. He's just a mindless dummy basically. His lightly curled hair was dark brown and combed back like how he always did in the morning, the hairs on his chin gave him a nice scuffed look. He was wearing his favorite overused jeans and a plaid shirt.

 She grabbed his hands and walked him towards her bed. She pushed over the covers and laid him down in a way that looked comfortable. She placed the covers back on top and moved her hands toward his face, placing her index finger on his eyelids and pulling them down to make it appear as if he were sleeping.

She turned off the lamp and went around the bed. She laid down, her white covers hugged her body and she scooted over, and placed his arm around her back and laid on his shirt.  She embraced the flashbacks as her as an upset child after fighting with her mum, her dad coming in to soothe her down and after the crying fit, she'd fall asleep on him just as she was now.

She closed her eyes and breathed in his shirt. 

She could run out of sketchbook papers and lose all her other saved drawings and she wouldn't bat an eye as long as the paper that held her fathers image was folded away in a safe place, for this was definitely her most beautiful sketch.

© Copyright 2020 Cathy98. All rights reserved.

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