Flower Crayon Novels & Stories

"I know darling I'm sorry she's not here anymore, but you are allowed to have another mummy if you want." Katie finished with the blue crayon sliding it back into the packet. "Auntie Andrea said she wouldn't come back," she perused the crayons and picked a yellow one for the next claw. Gabriel watched as she stuck her tongue between her lips as she concentrated on not going over the outline. "I don't want her to come back."

Then he asked softly, “What color do you think I was afraid of?” Yam replied without hesitation, “Something warm.” Franc’s breath caught slightly. He reached into his aged paint box, its surface speckled with dried drips from countless creations. His fingers hovered before pulling out a small jar of gold. “This one always felt too much,” he confessed. “Like pretending to heal before you’re sure.” He dipped his brush slowly, the bristles soaking up the rich hue. Standing before the canvas, he touched the painting’s corner with the tip—just a single streak—bright, not loud. It shimmered subtly, catching the light like a whispered hope.

I looked up at the boy who was adorable with golden-brown hair and large silver eyes that kind of glinted like pearls in the moonlight. “W-what’s a Crayola?” I asked. He blinked, “It’s a crayon, dummy.” He answered waving a flat white board at me. He pointed at it. “I was drawing.” His palm was still open; the weapons or as he called them crayons were in different colors. Red, Yellow, Green… Humans sure had interesting stuff on the land. The boy was putting it back into the box when his little handles fumbled and the box emptied into the water.

"No, it's mine. I want it." A small cry escapes the raven hair girl as she struggles with the boy next to her over the crayon. I quickly spot them from my spot at the other crafts table, taking quick steps to reach them. "Hey, hey, calm down." I squat down to their level, placing myself in their direct eye sight. "What's wrong?" "Gracie won't give me the crayon I want!" The little boy cries, clearly frustrated at not getting what he wants. "It's mine. I got it first." Gracie is on the verge of tears, pressing the blue crayon close to her chest to avoid it being taken from her. "It's not fair." She huffs.

Still with Summer in my arms, I walked inside the condo while she regaled me with stories about her day. "Mommy, guess what?" Summer chirped as she gripped my collar. "At school, Leo took the blue crayon but I wanted the blue crayon to draw a big blue horse, but Miss Honey said we have to share, so I used the purple one instead. And the purple horse looked way cooler anyway!" "A purple horse? That sounds beautiful, sweetie," I commented, carrying her into the kitchen and setting her down on one of the barstools. "And what did you have for lunch?"

At this point it’s clear to Dylan that boyfriend set a mission to embarrass him as much as possible. They humor Hyeri for nearly an hour— coloring and answering all of her questions. ‘why is it violet and not purple’ Andre smiles “theres already a purple.” ‘but its still purple..’ Dylan laughs this time “colors have different shades so they need new names sometimes” she holds up two different shades of red. little eyebrow quirked up ‘but these are both red’ Dylan inspects them both, laughing a little louder, “well these are two differences brands of crayons. so thats why.They won’t all be the same”

Luna’s crayon masterpiece had teeth. Literal ones. Lyra stood in the doorway of the pediatric playroom, a styrofoam cup of terrible coffee in one hand, and took in the scene: half the far wall was now occupied by a mural constructed from taped-up paper sheets. In thick, determined strokes of purple and blue, a lopsided wolf with a very large mouth was biting a stick-figure with a suspiciously crown-like shape on its head. Next to it, a smaller wolf—silver scribbles for eyes—held a heart.

“For your daughter.” I took it, peeking inside. It contained two things: a small, perfect container of ripe, red strawberries, and a box of the highest-quality, most expensive colored pencils I had ever seen. “The strawberries,” he said, his voice clinical, “have a documented high concentration of antioxidants and natural sugars, conducive to post-stress nutritional replenishment for a child. The pencils are artist-grade. Their pigment density and lightfastness are superior. They represent a logical progression from watercolor.”

Daiji continued, introducing the pair of Kitsune flanking them with a jerk of his head in each of their directions. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, girl. Get any angrier and you’ll be as crimson as my nails,” Navin spoke…and wiggled her fucking fingers in my face. “I got them done just before we left to come here. I wanted yellow, but I figured Soaré would be wearing the color.”

Briella giggles and holds up two fingers right in front of my face. "Very good, and I'll help you out they're this colour" I pick up the same crayon that Briella used for the hair and hand it to her. Briella draws big circles in the middle of the 'head' "And next?" I ask her, she fumbles through some of the crayons and picks up a red one, drawing a large smile underneath the eyes.