Daniel sat down at a table in an empty classroom in the school's art department. He dipped his feather quill into the inkwell and began to draw on the blank sheet of paper; his smooth strokes formed lines, then shapes, and finally, forms. He worked with total concentration, his eyes never leaving focus from the strokes of his pen, his imagination forming a direct connection to his fingers as he drew on the page.
As he worked and added details to the image, it quickly came into form, bringing to life the image of a grand medieval fantasy battle. There was a knight, the larger-than-life hero, charging down the battlefield on his horse, sword pointed straight towards his enemy as he advanced fearlessly. Behind him was an entire army filled with soldiers wearing armour and holding shields and spears. And there were archers in the rear of the army holding their bows and loosing arrows so that a great rainstorm of projectiles filled the sky.
Daniel drew the enemy army as well, inkshaping a monstrous army of orcs and goblins, their dreadful faces grimacing with evil intent. Their cavalry was mounted on gigantic spiders that creeped across the barren field. And above it all was a dragon soaring directly toward the knight, mouth open, its throat lighting up as if it were about to breathe fire. Its gigantic scaled wings stretched out, emerging out of the dark mist. Massive talons unfurled, ready to seize hold of any hapless soldier who wasn't fast enough to escape its terror.
The living ink worked its magic, transforming the still drawing into a moving animation. The two armies clashed together with so much ferocity Daniel could imagine the sound of their weapons clashing: spear against shield, metal against metal, and the shouts of men mixing with the screams of monsters. He watched the soldiers slash and hack at their enemies, black ink spraying as blood spattered from each fatal cut.
The inkshape jumped off the page, and the droplets hung suspended in the air, forming a three-dimensional animation of the knight and the dragon. The dragon flew in a circle and then swooped down toward the knight, jaws open to swallow him whole. However, the knight evaded, and the dragon only grabbed the horse, lifting the steed into the sky. The knight now stood alone, helpless as the dragon dropped his horse to its death, ink droplets swirling as they animated its fall. The dragon circled again and charged once more against the knight, but the knight held his sword firmly, ready to meet the impossible challenge in front of him like a true hero, brave enough to overcome any adversity. The dragon opened its mouth to spew flames, and the knight—
The classroom door burst open as a large teenager and his two friends entered. There was no flying dragon, no brave knight, no armies—merely black ink strokes on a white sheet of paper, a still drawing frozen in time.
"I've been looking for you," John laughed. "I didn't see you in the cafeteria, so I thought I'd find you here."
Daniel's heart sank; he knew John would come, and he had mentally primed his mind for their usual meeting, but he couldn't ignore his unease no matter how much he tried.
"Oh, what's this?" John grabbed the ink drawing from the table and showed it to his friends. "That's a pretty good drawing, guys." His two friends nodded in agreement.
Daniel stared at the drawing, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, silently waiting for John to give it back, but John still held it in his hand.
"So, you have that essay I asked for, right?" John asked.
"I have it here..." Daniel muttered. He fished through his backpack and handed out a neatly printed and stapled essay to John.
John read it over and nodded in approval. "It's good work. Keep it up."
"Thanks..." Daniel whispered.
"You have it so easy. You let someone else do all the homework for you!" Luke said to John.
