Crayon Book Novels & Stories

I take my seat between Reece and Raikin and grab my stocking. I start going through it and I'm honestly surprised. I was expecting it to be a bunch of stuff I wouldn't like or ever use. I was wrong though. For the most part it's make-up, hair accessories, candy and a few little miscellaneous things. The only odd thing is a Christmas coloring book and some crayons. I don't think I have colored in a coloring book since I was like seven, but they gave Ryder, Reece and Raikin one as well, so who knows.

“And it’s Elara, Penny.” She heard giggles from behind, but focused on selecting the best crayons. Placing the crayons in a pile, she checked packets until she beamed. She had just found the perfect one at the end of the pile: a brand-new Little Artist Special Crayon set, one with thick crayons that everyone in class wanted! Smiling triumphantly, she ran back, breathless. “Penny, see what I found-” Her steps faltered— Penny already had a crayon set.

he said. Inside were pages full of pencil sketches and short, clumsy sentences—none of them professionally done, all of them exactly him. There was a crooked family on the first page with two parents and a rescue dog named Bix. The second page had a sketch that looked suspiciously like our penthouse couch, with the caption: Where Tuesdays live. The book was a hand-made children’s story: The Little House That Held Tuesdays. Each page held a tiny adventure—the first puddle jump, the first burned pancake, the time a kite escaped and came back with a ribbon.

***************** A FEW MINUTES LATER. IN MIA'S ROOM........ "Use red, Jay Jay," Vicky said, placing a red crayon in Jay Jay's tiny hand and proceeding to color her book. The three of us are on the floor, Vicky and Jay Jay are busy with crayons and coloring books that Caleb gave to us yesterday. Vicky is doing well with hers but Jay Jay is making a mess of his book. Very funny little guy. He stared at him. He is currently staring at the red crayon in his tiny hand and like a few minutes ago, he moved it to his mouth.

Caitlin walked to it and held out her hands, relishing in its heat. Caitlin looked around, surveying the cozy room. It was dimly lit by candle sconces and bedecked with rugs and cozy, antique sitting chairs. What caught her eye most, though, were the bookcases: she saw at a glance that there was an abundance of riches in this small room. She was astonished. It was a treasure trove of ancient, rare volumes. She felt as if she’d stepped back in time, to a lost world. “I’m looking for a very rare volume,” Caitlin said. “I’m not even certain it exists. Vairo’s De Fascino Libri Tres. I am looking for the other half of a missing page.”

The scent of washable paint, old juice boxes, and cinnamon graham crackers clung to the walls like the lingering echoes of little voices. Anya Petrova crouched down beside a plastic table smeared with glitter glue and tiny fingerprints. A lopsided construction paper crown perched on her head, sliding to one side like a drunken halo. "Okay, Kings and Queens of the Crayon Kingdom, it's cleanup time!" she declared with mock severity, wagging a glitter-dusted finger at the room full of preschoolers. Half of them groaned. The other half ignored her entirely.

I rushed to Cassandra, who was standing in the middle of the living room, clutching her crayon box in her hands. “What's wrong, sweetie?” I asked, my heart still pounding from the message I had just received. “Caden won't give me back my crayon!” Cassandra sobbed, her face red and puffy. I looked at Caden, who was clutching the crayon box to his chest. His expression was stubborn, and I knew this would be a battle of wills. “Caden,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm and even. “You need to give the crayon box back to Cassandra.”

She wouldn't mind checking everything out, or whatever called her attention. There was another shelf after the award shelf. A bookshelf. It didn't contain so many books, although he had something that hooked her attention. Book of art. Clinton had a black hardcover drawing book he called Book Of Art. He used it to draw his imagination. Anthony had one too, meaning he also had an eye for art.

Amira's POV I reached out for the tray of mouth-watering foods that are on the table. This looks so yummy! I tried first the fries, and I don’t know if this is from mcdonalds or what. But this is fire! I also ate the whole burger, and all of the foods here. Wow that’s yummy! I wiped my mouth after I ate. Only 15 minutes have passed since I have been left alone in this office. I looked around again. What should I do? This is boring. Well, not until my eyes landed on the books. SO MANY BOOKS! I want to read!