Pack + Sidemen Story Prompts

Sketches

The prompt is styled as MiniFrags, courtesy of ninjabx, but feel free to change it to whatever you like.

Simon had been sketching the same face since he had first learned to draw. The roundish face, big smile, chocolaty brown eyes and silky dark hair. As his drawing skill had progressed, so had his portraits of the face. He had learned to draw as a stumbling fourth-grader, his art at the time being one of another his age, but with the same big smile and chocolate eyes. As Simon had grown up, so had the character, his face growing less boyish, eyebrows more accentuating. Now, at 21, Simon still draws the same face. He's not sure of the first time he drew it, or how he always knows exactly how to.

Prompt 1: Simon opens his sketchbook, and blows on the tip of his pencil, removing the extra lead dust. He extends his hand to the paper, expecting the inspiration that usually flowed through him to sketch the face of his character, but... nothing. Inspiration didn't come. Worried, Simon attempted to draw the face without it, from memory, but his hand stuttered and twitched and his art was nothing but smudges and scribbles. He let out a gasping sob of shock. The face had vanished.

Prompt 2: Simon flipped on the television, eyes half shut in boredom as some sort of video game commercial was played. Suddenly his eyes shot open and he gasped. That gamer... on the screen... was- the face in his sketches. There was no mistaking it, and Simon fumbled to take a picture with his phone, but by the time he had clicked the capture button, the commercial was over. Thus began his quest to find that gamer.

Prompt 3: Simon pulled the last thumbtack from where he was holding it between his teeth, pinning the corner of his newest piece. Looking around, he sighed. Floor to ceiling were hanging very picture he'd drawn in his life, all of the same character. They surrounded him, and he smiled, turning to caress the face of his newest piece. Somehow, along the way, he had fallen in love with the character, and no one could convince him that the boy wasn't real. Little did he know, across the world was another man, staring and smiling and caressing the face of a portrait he had drawn. A portrait of a tall dirty-blond boy, with elongated features, dazzling grey-blue eyes, and a quiff of bright hair.