The DrawingA Story by MarisaI drew him. I would see him so often in my dreams, both asleep and awake, that it must have just happened, subconsciously. When I looked down at the paper, there he was. The figure who frequently occupied space in my head. Whose face was so familiar, I could sketch him without even realizing it. The photo in my mind had snuck its way onto the page before me. My own doing. Though it seemed more like the work of the divine. Some days I didn't want to know him. Others he was as essential as breathing. A constant battle between want and need. Right and wrong. Fantasy verses reality. Somewhere along the line the two sides had evolved into the same. As I tried to erase him from my page, he wouldn't budge. He sprung to life, clinging to even that small part of me; fighting his way to stay. As I tried to erase his legs, he grabbed my hand to stop me. When I went for his arms, he kicked. He wouldn't disappear. Neither of us would allow it. For we too had combined. Connected. It wasn't something that could so easily be deleted... So there he stayed. Staring up at me from the paper. Only inches away, yet a part of his own, distant world. Continuously longing to leap up into my own. But it wasn't enough. It never was. And we both knew it never would be. © 2013 MarisaReviews
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8 Reviews Added on April 25, 2013 Last Updated on April 25, 2013 Tags: Flash Fiction, Drawing, Creative Writing, Short Story AuthorRelated WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
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