The promt was: You art project you drew comes to life. Explain what happens.
Here is my story. Please feel free to give me any pointers!! Thanks!!
“I want you to draw a picture of someone you admire,” my teacher said. I watched her grab a pencil from her desk to demonstrate to our class how to draw a picture of someone.
But I wasn’t listing to what she had to say. I was thinking about what’s for dinner, the fact that I had to clean my room, and trying to figure out how to get the gum off my shoe.
I was happy when she stopped talking; I wanted to get my picture over with. I glanced around the room. Most of my friends were drawing pictures of their parents or grandparents. But I didn’t want to draw a picture of my family. I mean I love them to death and all, but lets just say there’s nothing about them to admire.
That’s why I chose to draw him. The guy that changed America, as we know it. The man who helped out many desperate Americans. His name is Abraham Lincoln, and he is my hero.
I was satisfied with my final product. I thought the tall black hat and beard looked very authentic. Then I heard the bell ring. I shoved the picture in my backpack and headed for lunch.
When I got home I ran to my room to drop of my backpack. Then I headed to the kitchen for an afternoon snack. And that’s when I heard it, the T.V. in my room turned on. But how could it be? No one was home except for me. And then I heard it again, but this time it turned off.
I tiptoed to my room, I silently opened the door and that’s when I almost dropped dead. A man, a tall man, was standing in my room clutching a remote. His hat was so tall it almost touched the ceiling, his suit looked nice and pressed. With his other hand he carefully scratched his beard.
Why it couldn’t be . . . It looked just Abraham Lincoln. There was only one way to find out.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Yes. Could you tell me, miss, what this thing is called?” His eyes were pointed to the television.
“A T.V.” I said
“A T.V.” he repeated. I stood there for a long time watching him turn on and off the television.
“My name is Lisa,” I finally said. Then I stuck out my hand.
“Abraham, call me Ab.”
Then in one swift movement he set down the remote on the table. Then he took his one empty hand and placed it in mine. He then shook it.
“I want you to draw a picture of someone you admire,” my teacher said. I watched her grab a pencil from her desk to demonstrate to our class how to draw a picture of someone.
But I wasn’t listing to what she had to say. I was thinking about what’s for dinner, the fact that I had to clean my room, and trying to figure out how to get the gum off my shoe.
I was happy when she stopped talking; I wanted to get my picture over with. I glanced around the room. Most of my friends were drawing pictures of their parents or grandparents. But I didn’t want to draw a picture of my family. I mean I love them to death and all, but lets just say there’s nothing about them to admire.
That’s why I chose to draw him. The guy that changed America, as we know it. The man who helped out many desperate Americans. His name is Abraham Lincoln, and he is my hero.
I was satisfied with my final product. I thought the tall black hat and beard looked very authentic. Then I heard the bell ring. I shoved the picture in my backpack and headed for lunch.
When I got home I ran to my room to drop of my backpack. Then I headed to the kitchen for an afternoon snack. And that’s when I heard it, the T.V. in my room turned on. But how could it be? No one was home except for me. And then I heard it again, but this time it turned off.
I tiptoed to my room, I silently opened the door and that’s when I almost dropped dead. A man, a tall man, was standing in my room clutching a remote. His hat was so tall it almost touched the ceiling, his suit looked nice and pressed. With his other hand he carefully scratched his beard.
Why it couldn’t be . . . It looked just Abraham Lincoln. There was only one way to find out.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Yes. Could you tell me, miss, what this thing is called?” His eyes were pointed to the television.
“A T.V.” I said
“A T.V.” he repeated. I stood there for a long time watching him turn on and off the television.
“My name is Lisa,” I finally said. Then I stuck out my hand.
“Abraham, call me Ab.”
Then in one swift movement he set down the remote on the table. Then he took his one empty hand and placed it in mine. He then shook it.