NEPHILIM | CTHULHU

Drawing The Unseen | 1

The easy breeze of Friday afternoon shifts my hair. Bubbles float across my lawn in the quiet cramped cul-de-sac of Minnasota Avenue. My sketchbook and pastels in front of me, drawing the bubbles in perfect clarity. Along with the children giggling and laughing, blowing the bubbles down the street. The focal point of the drawing was the happiness and clarity of it all. The fog of clouds almost ruining the whole drawing. It was normal though, in our crowded town, rain every other night was spectacular to us. It was a part of our lives, as much as our skin was. Expected even.

If it didn't rain for a week, people would become depressed. Rain in this town was considered our washer. The chalk on the sidewalks would be washed off, the trees would soak up the water greedily, the roses and daisies would let the little drops on their petals linger for artists who wish to capture their beauty. And this artist would gladly capture the perfection nature left for her.

My sketchbook, filled to the brim with doodles, sketches, paintings, splatter art, and simple artistry. It's my imagination in one place. The bland cover of black and white sketches of dragons and animals, then an explosion of color in the pages. A rainbow of art for your eyes.

Art was my breather, my desire.

As another gust of wind drew me from my thoughts to start sketching in the bubbles, I noticed a family van and a moving van pull up the road. I tilted my head, confused as to why there would be a moving van here now. After all, it was a small neighborhood. Someone would have blabbed about their kid coming back from college.

However, the van curved un-elegantly into my line of sight. Right in front of me actually. I frowned and gathered my things closer, nobody lived in the house next door. I guess we were getting neighbors.

I gathered my things into their compact compartments, just as Chelsea boots landed in my view. A boy about my age looked down at me, confused as to why an 18-year-old girl was sitting on the side of her house surrounded by pastels.

The chunky and cracked pavement was unforgiving to his shoes as he wobbled a little on my driveway. I glanced up and offered a friendly smile. He reluctantly smiled back and turned to face the man on the other side of the van. "Hyung! That's not removable!" He cried.

"No- wait- argh!" He whined and delicately skirted around my things to get to his 'Hyung'. They had parked crookedly to prevent from running me over in basically one car driveway. Of course there was about five feet of property that ran along their house, but this narrow alleyway driveway was not friendly to vehicles. Especially the extra steep sloping curve of it all.

As I carefully placed my pastels in their kit I snickered quietly at the small thud and groan. That sounded pretty heavy though, I shouldn't laugh at another's distress. I stood up and walked to my porch steps, pastels, and book in hand. It seemed one of them had dropped a box of books. I let myself laugh, and walked inside.

The cozy wool rug and hand-woven comforters lay on the couches and loveseats pressed to the walls. The coffee table was littered with knick nacks and lots of candy wrappers. It was in disarray, but it was home. Comforting in it's distortment. I walked through the room, passed all the photos of me and my older brother holding each other and smiling into the camera with our gap-toothed smiles and cake littered faces. Despite the age difference, we had the same birthday.

The smell of boiling noodles and red sauce filled my nostrils. I smiled at my brother who was scrolling through his phone, he glanced up.

"Finally done being a pedophile to the kids?" He asked playfully.

I rolled my eyes and sat at the island. Pots lined the white walls, the brown cabinets offered some relief from the blindingly white cutlery my mother insisted was modern and chic. Mom turned on her heel, spoon dipped in red sauce. A smile plastered on her face.