Category Archives: inspired by drawings

The Man Downstairs

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Drawing by Laurie

Every night and every weekend my mum would shout:
‘Can you set the table, please!’
‘Have you set the table yet?’
‘KNIVES, FORKS and MATS ON THE TABLE PLEASE!’
I didn’t like doing it. I didn’t want to do it. It was boring.
Sometimes I did it in the end but I made it a real pain for my parents.

It was another Sunday lunch and
I ignored my parents as they called me to set the table.
A few moments passed before I heard my dad’s footsteps coming.
In a rage he dragged me to the kitchen and then to the cellar door (yes, we have a cellar)
He said: ‘If you can’t do one thing for us then you can eat your lunch in the cellar with the cats.’
I slammed the door on the way down. I didn’t care.

But when I got downstairs I was given the fright of my life by a man waiting down there. I was too scared to move. He had feet made of bits of knives, his underpants were knives, his hands were forks, he had bits of spoon on his face, on his knees and as a beard.
He looked at me and said:

‘Hello mate.’ (see picture)

He said ‘I’ve been hearing stories about you and your inability to set the table every day.
It’s not a difficult job is it?’ He asked me.
I couldn’t speak. He moved closer.
‘You know what an anagram for cutlery is?’ he said
I shook my head
‘Cruelty.
I am the man downstairs.’ he said. ‘I can be cruel.’ he said.
‘If you don’t set the table then you’ll be sent down here again.’
As he said it he clanked his knives and forks.
‘And it won’t be pretty…’

I nodded and backed away back upstairs.
I got the cutlery out of the drawer and set the table.
My parents looked at each other with surprise, raising their eyebrows when they saw me.
I don’t know if they knew about the man downstairs that day but i’ve set the table ever since and i’ve learnt that It pays to be helpful.

Ali

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Drawing by Laurie.

Ali often got in a bit of a mess because he overthought things.
He thought his shoes could be better.
He thought his sword could be sharper.
He thought his clothes could be smarter.
Sometimes when Ali overthought these things he got in a bit of a tangle and thoughts spun around his head much like a swarm of bothersome flies.
This made him angry. (see picture)
This made him stressed.
This made him feel like a lunatic.
Ali went on like this until one day, on his travels, he came across a dusty old book called mindfulness. He read the book and learnt that when his thoughts were buzzing, rather than hold onto them and think about them he should just watch them come and go and then disappear.
He realised it wasn’t difficult to do.
He realised he could do it whenever he wanted.
He realised he was happier when all his thoughts were
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A Broken Connection

BY DAISY 2015
Drawing by Daisy

Tara Phelten
was sad.
She felt the pain and suffering
and the lack of empathy in the world.
Because of this she cried big blue tears
big blue tears of sadness that
fell creating imbalance in her face
and in her mind.
The tears fell but few took
any notice.
Few looked deep into her eyes
the simple nature of her eyes.
Few looked deep into nature
to understand everything better.

Signature Dish

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Drawing by Laurie

Frédéric Blancmange Rose was a sweet man and one of the greatest dessert chefs in Paris. He made the best Ange de la Joie around and people came from all over France and Europe to sample his delights.

One day though, tragedy struck and Frédéric was involved in a horrific accident in the kitchen with a sharp implement that left him with only one eye. Many people of France believed that this would be the end of Frédéric. For a while, Ange de la joie was off the menu.

Frédéric however, recovered quickly and after a month of rehabilitation and a successful operation he returned to work. He came back to the kitchen with a face full of determination (see picture above) and he felt stronger than ever.

Customers weren’t so sure if Frédéric’s desserts would still be outstanding. They thought an incident like this would change him forever. Frédéric had other plans though, making sure his dessert was better than ever and to every customer that had returned, the proof was in the pudding.

Charcoal

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Drawing by Laurie

Mr. A. Rachloc (Alistair to his friends) was an art teacher at a school in Moesk – a small village in England. He was a brilliant and inspiring teacher who brought out the best in his pupils. Mr. Rachloc did a lot of his artwork with charcoal and in his free time he created many wonders. He was so into his art he breathed it.

The kids at school acknowledged that their teacher was eccentric and his spark and rigour really rubbed off on them. All the kids respected him and they had a name for him. They called him Sir Scratch-a-lot, because he was always scratching away with his charcoal on paper.

Recently though, some kids and teachers had noticed a change in him. It seemed his features were getting darker, his eyes blacker and he seemed less of a presence when he was around you.

At home, after a tiring day at school Mr. Rachloc was taking a break from his drawings. He was smoking. He wasn’t smoking cigarettes though he was smoking charcoal. He was looking at himself in the mirror, his mind on fire with ideas. He had been smoking charcoal for a ling time and was addicted to it.

More and more people at school noticed that Mr.Rachloc wasn’t quite himself, didn’t quite have the same gusto as usual and he himself accepted he had a problem. He knew that smoking charcoal was making him unwell despite helping him create great things. As he looked into the mirror, like every night, he saw he was thinner and it was as if he was beginning to waste away. He had been to the doctor after school without much luck. The doctor had said his obsession was beginning to possess him and was turning him into charcoal.

Mr. Rachloc’s condition worsened and there was much sadness and silence at school when the pupils were told that their teacher was too ill to come in. He remained at home, he was still smoking though, his features were carbon black and he could hardly move. He did however, look like a work of art – a beautiful charcoal painting and in his eyes, ideas and beauty flickered. In his last moments, very weak, he leant against the bedroom wall and disappeared into it – leaving a charcoal print of himself and a collection of black dust on the floor.

There was a minutes silence across the school the next week for the teacher and an exhibition of his work – his abundance of charcoal drawings that were both wonderful and inspiring. The headmaster announced it was a sad time for the school, saying that Mr. Alistair Rachloc had showed us both the beauty and horror of obsession and that it should be a lesson to us all. One of the images that Mr. Rachloc had drawn – a self portrait (see picture above) – was put up in the art room to remind students of the story of Mr. Rachloc forever more.

Malfe

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Drawing by Laurie

Malfe was a kid.
Malfe was different.
Malfe looked like a match and when he was angry his hair caught fire. (see picture)
Malfe was bullied because he was different.
Malfe was laughed at and teased and ridiculed.
Malfe wanted to burn them but he didn’t.
Malfe controlled his desire to burn them.
Malfe knew revenge was for weak people.
Malfe was sad though.
Malfe was told by his mother that he’d have the last laugh.
Malfe was told by his father that intelligent people ignore.
Malfe left school.
Malfe became an adult.
Malfe was still different.
Malfe was adored because he was different and people loved his hair.
Malfe was very successful due to his unique talent.
Malfe had the last laugh.

Fragile (Handle with care)

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Drawing by Laurie

Jack was a happy boy. He dressed well and he said interesting and funny things. As he grew up though, he realised he was different from everybody else as he had an egg for a head. He noticed that people laughed at him behind his back because of this. This made him a bit depressed. Jack tried to disguise the fact his head was an egg by wearing hats but it only made matters worse. The hats looked silly and people laughed more.

As the years passed Jack became less interesting and funny, in fact he stopped speaking all together in the fear that people would just talk about his head. He covered his mouth so he didn’t have to speak but people found this even funnier as it now looked like his head was sitting in an egg cup. People called him a freak. Jack wasn’t a freak he was an interesting boy with hopes and dreams like any other.

The laughter and jokes soon became too much though and Jack decided he could take no more. It was a shame to see such sadness in his eyes on the day he blew himself up.

Everybody was shocked on hearing the news and the people who had laughed at Jack behind his back were all left with egg on their faces after the explosion. No matter how hard they tried the egg wouldn’t come off. It stayed there for the rest of their lives as a reminder of how horrible they had been to him.

In a way, Jack had had the last laugh, for those with egg on their face suffered and whenever people around the world bought eggs from then on, they’d remember his story and be sure to be kind to everyone no matter how different they were.

24

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Drawing by Laurie.

Julian had never wanted to fight in the war. He was too scared and no good in combat so from the trenches he flapped his moustache and flew away. After flying for about an hour he was overcome with guilt and felt useless for having just given up so he returned.

Upon his return, he noticed some wounded comrades down below so he landed, picked them up and took them to safety one by one. This is where Julian found his niche in the war: flying wounded soldiers out of the battlefields. He saved many lives and he became known as Captain Twenty Four because he went out and saved people both day and night.

Julian was highly decorated when the war was over but he refused any medals or accolades. At his speech he quoted Winston Churchill, who had said ‘If you are going through hell, keep going,’ as his motivation for soldiering on. He would never have realised how to use his talents if he had just given up he was reported as saying.

Razorhead

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Drawing by Laurie

His name was Razorhead, leader of the pencils. Long before you and I were born his race ruled the world and he lead many pencils astray. They drew lines on the ground and called them borders; They drew them everywhere in the world that you know. People weren’t allowed to cross these borders and for many years they suffered, unable to reach family and friends.

Just when it seemed people could take no more, Eraserhead arrived on the scene. He was the leader of the rubbers. They rubbed out a lot of the bad work of the pencils and ended many years of misery. Razorhead gave himself up (see picture above) as his efforts were becoming pointless. His trial drew a big crowd.

To this day the rubbers still keep the pencils in check but on a much smaller scale (pencil cases, pots and tins mostly) and if you look at a map of the world you can still see some of the lines leftover from the time of Razorhead.