I know it's supposed to be 'a day in the life of a normal person', but I decided to go with something a bit smaller and more familiar to me. Hope you enjoy~ <3
590 words
The girl screwed up her face slightly as she stared intently at the paper on her desk; a small, black, inky creature hiding itself in the folds of her skin as her nose wrinkled. Her eyes ticked ever so faintly, but remained ever vigilant, watching her fingers work. There was a thin yet audible scratching noise as her pen slowly slid across the smooth bristol, the pointed tip leaving a groove like a tiny gorge. Finally she lifted the pen slowly, and looked down at the paper, scrutinizing it. Satisfied, she placed the pen in a cup to her right and leaned back in her chair.
"Finally done!" She exclaimed with a pleased smile, "Though it isn't much. I still need to erase the pencil lines and color it...but it's a good start, right?"
She ran her fingers across each other before snapping them backwards to create a quick series of pops like a muffled machine gun. Her face contorted once more into a grimace at the sound as she thought about the onset of carpal tunnel and arthritis. Well, it was a thing she knew she'd have to deal with sooner or later. In her chosen line of work, there were few people who did not have some kind of bone or muscle-related disease in their wrists or hands.
Looking once more to the paper, she crossed her arms below her chest and tilted her head with a slight frown. "I wonder if the commissioner will like it. They didn't give me many specifics, but...I really wonder if it's okay." After a moment of consideration, she shrugged. "Well, if they don't like it, it's their own fault for not giving me enough details to work with. Right?"
Leaning forward, she picked up a pink rubber eraser, and poked at the ink to make sure it was dry before she began scrubbing at the faint pencil lines that ran across the paper. A few moments later, she picked up the paper and blew the blighted remains of the eraser off the edge, causing it to fall down to her desk, where it would remain, unwanted and unneeded, until she finally swept it into the garbage.
The next of her tools to be retrieved was a huge pack of prismacolor markers. She unfolded and unsnapped it, her fingers walking across the different pens until she found the color she wanted to start with. After sliding the tube out of the casing and uncapping it, she lowered the tip to her paper and began with a few short, thin strokes before gaining confidence enough to use longer, thicker motions.
Many more colored ink beasts had wandered onto her face by the time she finally capped her last pen and placed it back into its case. As she looked at the paper full of vibrant colors and exciting lines, she felt a smile steel itself onto her lips. For an American girl drawing anime, life wasn't particularly easy - the chances of making it were about as good as the chances of becoming a ninja. However, this was what she loved, and she was committed; besides, in the moment after finishing a complicated piece like this, when she knew she had worked her hardest, it all felt rewarding. Nothing was quite like doing what you love, no matter what it was. Even if society dictated that there was no place for her, she could always draw and experience that moment, looking down on her completed work, feeling a sense of accomplishment.
12/3/2013, 6:23 am by 
