Crying Eye Drawing Novels & Stories

Chapter 105 Ellie Max seldom cries and, when he cries he usually means it . He doesn't cry crocodile tears , what I do know for a fact is that when something really scares him his sensitive side comes out . I placed my palms in his wet cheeks and kissed him . He leaned in and kissed me back when I opened my eyes he took a deep breath and hugged me . I hugged him back and he held me tighter . He was still crying and I kissed his shoulder and pulled back to look at his stormy grey eyes that were now red and his face reflected doubt and fear.

"The new teachers will be very kind to you. No one will ever bully you again." Stanley buried his little face in the crook of my shoulder and gave a muffled "okay". After a moment, he said softly, "Daddy, I drew a picture for you." He handed me the piece of paper. There was a tree and three people on it—me, Stanley, and Carmen, whom he had barely seen since he was old enough to remember. The moment I saw the drawing, tears fell before I could stop them. "Daddy, why are you crying? Did I not draw it well?" Stanley wrapped his arms around mine.

Next, my hand drew a female shape whose face is divided right in the middle of the vertical line. I keep sketching the woman's face with different emotions in both parts of the face. On the right side shows a full lonely face, it seems like she's living alone in her dark world, with tears of pain in her eyes. On the left side, it shows bravery but still a fragile woman, she always has to put a smile on her face to show everyone that she's okay. Next, I drew her long hair that is blown by the breeze, then her hands are intertwined with each other. I finally drew its dress which is also freely blown around by the wind. Gray on the left and white on the right.

Then suddenly— Her hands began shaking. 💔 Every page contained the same drawing. Again. And again. And again. 👁️ A silver eye. Hundreds of times. Drawn in different sizes. Different styles. Different angles. But always the same eye. 🌙 Aaira turned another page. Then another. Then another. And her fear grew. Because beside the eye, there was always a number. 3:13 😱 Every drawing. Every page. Every symbol. 3:13. 💀 ⸻

Jo accepted the paper gently, unfolding it with careful fingers. At first glance, it looked like a simple child’s drawing — messy lines, smudged colors. But the longer Jo stared, the colder her blood ran. It was a drawing of a massive wolf, dark and powerful, kneeling under a broken moon. Its silver eyes were hollow and sad, its paws chained to the ground by thick black tendrils. Beside it, a man — tall, crowned, broken — stood slumped over, clutching his chest as blood spilled from his side.

She was crying. He blinked. This wasn't just a drawing. This was... vulnerable. He flipped again. Another scene: The same girl, it seemed, from behind. She was bent over a low table, a plug visibly lodged in her ass, the faint trace of a tail drawn with just a few flicks of the pencil. Her back was arched, and the shape of a flogger hung over her shoulder, just the tips of it drawn mid-swing. In the margin: "Only allowed to cum after she cries."

I ran my thumb over the photo, tracing her face gently. “God… who are you and are you so beautiful?” I whispered without meaning to. A folded piece of paper sat underneath. I picked it up, unfolded it carefully. It was a drawing — a childish one — done by a child of probably six years old, with colored pencils, the edges already yellowed from age. It showed three stick figures, hand in hand: a tall man with dark hair, a beautiful woman beside him, and a little boy with silver hair and grey eyes, a smaller girl beside him, with a big red heart between them.

So the fact that she's even more beautiful than she already was before, makes me even angrier. I'm about two heads taller than her now, she has fair skin that looks like snow, long curly and golden hair, a perfect body in the shape of an hourglass to put it simply with that tiny waist of hers. Not to say about the cherry on the cake… her dangerous ruby-red eyes. I had forgotten about them, but now, seeing from where I am, they make her absurdly gorgeous. And it's annoying. And now, this gorgeous creature I hate more than anything, is crying… It makes me sick.

MIA I look down at my sketch pad for a minute. I need to get this right. Something is wrong with it. I hold it in front of me to get a better view. hmmm. I look back at Noah then back at my pad. It's the eyes. The eyes don't capture the same emotion as his. I look back at Noah. His gaze is so concentrated on the fire that he doesn't even notice. His eyes are so focused and intense. I can see the bright blue ring that surrounds his eye and how it slowly fades into a darker blue towards the pupil. I erase the eyes and redraw them. I keep on flicking my view back and forth between my pad and Noah's eyes. I draw a defined circle. I keep drawing until I get it just right. I look back at it and se

At this moment, the demon eye in the drawing suddenly moved its pupil towards her. Edward's first drawing after making a deal with the devil was the demon eye he met in his dream. It was the scary realistic paintings. The blood veins in the eye were also carefully sketched. Its sudden movement frightened Mrs. Dieter. The lights in the room flashed one after another and the whole space fell into a terrifying darkness.