Hidden Pictures Book Drawings นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Drawings and stories written by a child. I watched Red as he picked up an old sketch book, a smile on his face. Lee leaned over Red's shoulder to see the drawings in the book. "You were a really cool kid, dude. Check out that piece of art" Lee said. Curious, I stepped forward to take a look. Lee was right. Red's drawings were beautiful. As he flipped over the pages, Lee placed his hand on one of the pages. "There, I think mummy has another message for us in your old sketch book" Lee said. Red raised a brow as he read the neatly written words in the sketch book.

The little black cat curled up in her lap as usual. "Tonight we find out the real skinny on this, kitty," she murmured as she opened the heavy book to the page she had marked. "I don't even know what I'm looking for any more but I hope I find it soon." She opened the book to the place she'd marked, two pages of hand-drawn sketches. One of the drawings especially caught her eye. The face of the wolf looked almost human and she had the bizarre feeling the animal was staring out at her from the page.

I defend, shoving my book into my bag, but he's quicker and takes it from my grasp. "Let's see here…" he thumbs through the book and holds it just out of my reach. There were drawings in there that I'd much rather keep to myself. "Those are private, Zak. Give it back." I wine pathetically as I watch him study each picture. Most of them were a little dark, like memories of my father when he was much worse. Some were of my mother before she changed. The few others showed my secret, if you were observant enough to realize it. I’ve never shared them with anyone before.

Such a childish and girly tantrum. I covered my face. This was truly embarrassing. It was a good thing that I am the only person seeing this. I could not let Lucas know that I have such a habit before! This would be my secret until the day I die! "Mom, look here! I draw myself and mom!" My mother and I looked at the drawing book. There were two stick figures on the paper. The taller stick has long hair and a big smile with very long lashes that expand longer than the ears. While the shorter stick has twig tails and a small smile.

He pulled out a small bundle of trinkets—buttons, beads, a broken bracelet—and several crumpled papers. "Bingo," he murmured. Bella gasped. "Her stash. She hides things all the time at our place too." We all sat down right there on the floor, spreading out the drawings. Childish sketches. A house. A crying face. A stick-figure family. A swing set. Then my fingers froze. "Here," I said. "Look at this." We all leaned in. It was a grey, smudged drawing of an oval with a cross on top.

God. Everything was fine. Fair. Until the last page. Reasonable honestly. Then she froze. God. Because there was a drawing. Fair. A brand new drawing. Reasonable. Not hers. God. Definitely not hers. Fair. Just scribbles. Reasonable honestly. Lots of scribbles. God. Then one tiny stick figure. Fair. Then another tiny stick figure. Reasonable. Then a tiny circle. God. Everyone stared. Fair. Then Peanut pointed proudly.

They didn't speak much and so I feel like I should continue my words to break this silence. "I am not that sure about what I am about to say but I've read this in some book I saw in the library. Although the credibility of that book is something I can't guarantee" I sat on the ground and pick up the pencil I had with me. Opening the small book I have, I started to draw on the blank page that is not pure white in color. They just keep silent and let me continue my drawing. "Have you heard about the Heminrey plant?"

He climbed onto the sofa beside her and opened the notebook. Crayon lines filled the page. Bright colors. Simple shapes. But the drawing was recognizable. Three stick figures stood side by side beneath a large sun. Evelyn had seen similar drawings from him before. Usually the same three figures. A woman. A child. And a tall man with darker shading around the eyes. Silas held the notebook proudly. “Do you like it?” Evelyn forced a soft smile. “It’s beautiful.” He studied the picture carefully. Then pointed to the tallest figure.

Whispering to myself, I look at the old man. book and around the table, finding a pencil on the edge. I pick it up and go back to the book once more. I know very well that I am too curious for my own good as I use the pencil to open the book to the first page. The book appears to be a record of something, all done by hand. It has a painting that looks like a human with dark hair, strange bat wings come out of its back and stretch out to the sides. The wings appear white, almost glowing with a silvery tinge. The human is naked from the waist up, and markings cover the middle of the man's chest. The markings look like the silhouette of a pomegranate in red and four crimson stars line up beneat

After a brief scolding from my teacher, I was sent to assist the librarian. The library was a sanctuary of towering shelves and soft whispers, its grandeur unexpectedly breathtaking. The scent of aged books and polished wood wrapped around me like a comforting cloak. Wandering through the aisles, I stumbled upon a dimly lit corner that exuded an eerie presence. A single book stood out—its cover blank and edges charred. Curious, I picked it up. "Weird," I muttered, flipping through its brittle pages. My blood ran cold when I saw my name inscribed on the last page.