Novel & Cerita La Llorona Drawing

The smell of spices filled the air gradually, grounding the house in routine that felt necessary after the chaos of the last day. Routine was survival now. Not comfort. Survival. “Come here,” Selena called suddenly. Her voice startled me slightly. I walked toward the table slowly, crouching beside her. “What is it?” I asked. She turned the paper toward me. It was a drawing. Crude. Simple. Childlike. But clear. Two small figures stood side by side. One slightly taller. One slightly smaller. Beside them was a large black shape. A wolf. My wolf.

I opened it carefully and found several damaged pages wrapped in faded cloth. I spread them across the stone floor. Most were almost impossible to read, but one page immediately caught my attention. There was a drawing. A woman stood beneath a full moon, and around her body was a strange mark, having the same shape and the same pattern as the mark on Lyra. My hands became cold. “No,” I whispered. I lifted the page closer to the candle, but the words around the drawing had been scratched away so deeply that only a few letters remained. Someone had not simply allowed the record to fade with age. Someone had destroyed it.

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.

"As I was saying, the only way to break a curse is to..." Lorenzo slowly turned the page to reveal a blank page on the other side. "What the hell?" He muttered and I squeezed my eyes shut briefly. "Look! There's a drawing of a sword on the page" Lorenzo said and I opened my eyes. The drawing was faint, but anyone could tell what it was. When it started to fade, I fished out my phone from my pocket. But, just before I could actually take a photo, the drawing faded, leaving no trace behind.

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.”

“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.

The following morning, Leo sat alone in the sanctuary garden. A piece of charcoal in his hand. A blank sheet of parchment before him. He wasn't thinking. Wasn't planning. Wasn't trying. His hand simply moved. Stroke after stroke. Line after line. Until a face appeared. Dark hair. Strong jaw. Golden eyes. A scar across one cheek. Perfectly detailed. Perfectly accurate. Leo stared at the drawing in confusion. Then looked up as footsteps approached. Mira stopped beside him. Saw the portrait. And dropped the prophecy book.

Aurora looked at the page. "About your father?" Aurora asked quietly. Lily pulled the notebook back across the table. She shook her dark head firmly. The child pressed the pencil to the paper again. About all of it, Lily wrote. She turned the notebook around again. "I think I know most of it," Aurora whispered. Lily did not smile. The child reached out and flipped backward through the filled pages. She stopped at the specific drawing from several weeks ago. It was the detailed picture of the three figures standing together in the farmhouse kitchen. Daddy. Rora. Lily. Aurora stared at it.

As I bent down to pick it up, I realised it had fallen open to a specific page. The illustration staring back at me held me in place like a beast with its claws in my chest. It was a drawing of a monster with long, dried-up black hair, claw-like nails, and prominent fangs. Below the drawing was a single red drop of blood, as if it were dripping from the fangs. I narrowed my eyes, trying to decipher the ancient, jagged writing that surrounded the drawing:

Like for a second, the ground stopped shaking under her feet. After breakfast, I stayed behind to rinse the dishes. A little domestic rebellion against the mountain of sticky plates, while the kids ran off, yelling something about building a fort and whether or not it needed “guard dragons.” I was elbow-deep in bubbles when I felt a soft tug on my shirt. “Uncle Arsen?” I turned, hands dripping, to find Lorelai holding out a crayon drawing with all the seriousness of someone delivering state secrets. The paper was a riot of colors. A house, crooked but proud, with smoke curling out of the chimney. A big red sun. Stick figures all holding hands—some had little scribbles above their heads. Hear