La Llorona Drawing Novels & Stories

Ten minutes later, River came back. He was holding a piece of construction paper. He handed it to Aurora. Liam leaned in to look. It was a drawing of the family. The usual stick figures—Liam tall, Aurora medium, Ethan and River and Hope. They were standing in front of the tower. But in the middle of Aurora’s stick figure, River had drawn a small, bright yellow dot. And around the dot, he had drawn a circle of red. "What's the red?" Aurora asked, her voice thick.

Not even a single try. “What does it say?” I asked, brows furrowing as I rubbed both of my palms to create warmth. The cold had been much cruel today ever since we arrived at the healer’s cabin. I encouraged myself to look at the drawings instead; the art style is pretty much gothic, if not ancient. It wasn’t inked. Hues of black and white were embedded on the golden brown pages of the material. I saw the graphics of a human and a werewolf. They were doing something strange… some sort of a ritual. Elliot did not flip the pages further so I ended up guessing that that was it.

Olivia grinned at her. She nodded, not noticing her. Olivia left to get the order, and Lillian took this chance to approach Shadow. His back was facing her. She looked over his shoulder to see what he was drawing and saw him drawing a wolf and a small girl who was sitting on top of the wolf. And it looked like she was laughing. Her eyes fell on the beaded flower bracelet on his head. It looked familiar to her, but she didn’t know where she saw it. Olivia was looking at her carefully and felt a little mischievous. She made a circle with her fingers as Lillian walked to his side. The server suddenly bumped into Lillian and she fell towards Shadow.

There’s a blood-stained altar in the middle of the room, and currently it holds about a dozen scrolls, each of them several feet long, all of them filled with scribblings and drawings. Like me when I came here the first time, Mara is automatically drawn to the altar. She unrolls one of the scrolls, and with a small frown between her eyes looks at it. “Can you read it?” I ask. “No, but these drawings are a little… unsettling.” They are, and they look like cave paintings. They have no depth and the perception is all wrong. “It’s not as bad as you think,” I say. “It’s just the Lycans’ creation story.”

The storm still pressed against the glass walls, wind whining in the seams. Liora was halfway to her room when the folder slipped from under her arm. Paper fanned across the polished floor—receipts, a hospital form, and a single sheet in faded crayon. She froze. Before she could crouch, a hand got there first. Varian’s. He straightened slowly, holding the paper between two fingers. His gaze didn’t leave the drawing. A stick-figure family, three crooked smiles under a sky that bled blue into the edges. At the bottom, clumsy, determined letters: Mama, Papa, Me.

“But I do need to show you something.” She takes my hand and leads me to her desk. Opening a drawer, she pulls out a small stack of papers. She holds them out to me, and I take the stack. They’re children’s drawings in crayon. “I found those in Bryony’s room,” Willow explains. Our three-year-old daughter's drawing isn’t a concern. It’s the subject matter in her drawings that makes me pause. There are drawings of wolves in cages, a bloody wolf on the ground with a knife sticking out of its neck and a black sun with a smaller blue circle inside of it.

Deep in the palace library, Ronan sat in a high-backed leather chair, the only light illuminating the library was from the table lamp right across the seat he was seated on. He had a bottle of expensive whiskey on the table, it was already half empty. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, worn piece of parchment. It was a drawing Liora had made when they were sixteen. It was a messy sketch of the two of them under the moon. Ronan closed his eyes, the memory hitting him with the force of a physical blow.

“I drawed this for Miwella!” Mirella leaned closer, her eyes wide. “Wow!” she exclaimed with theatrical awe, taking the drawing. It was a bit scribbled, with lines overlapping and colors outside the borders. But amidst the wild pinks and greens, was clearly a giant flower with a happy sun in the corner. “This is a really pretty drawing,” Kaliyah added sincerely, smiling at Lani. The little girl beamed and swayed from side to side proudly. Then she tilted her head, staring up at Kaliyah.

“Kyra got rid of all his photos just after he died. Sometimes it’s hard to remember the little things. Drawing him now and again, helps jog the memory. Even when it’s not very good.” “You don’t need to be embarrassed about it. I know he meant a lot to you.” “I was hoping Corina would tell me more about him.” “Maybe when the time is right. For now though, it’s time for dinner.” She carefully folds up the drawing and stashes it in her pocket. If I get hold of it later, I will frame it for her. Lola was already sitting at the table. She doesn’t say anything and just bobs her head in acknowledgement.

Lily was coloring at the counter, her tongue sticking out in concentration. “Good morning,” Kira said. Elena turned and smiled. “Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?” “I did.” “Coffee?” “Please.” Her mother poured her a cup and handed it to her. Kira took a sip and sat down next to Lily. “What are you drawing, baby?” Lily held up her paper. It was a picture of a house with stick figures in front. “That’s us. You, me, Grandma, Grandpa, and Uncle Marcus.”