La Llorona Drawing Novels & Stories

Thought maybe he’d take my hand and say, Let’s run away. I wiped my face, forcing the sobs back down. I reached for my phone in my coat pocket but as I pulled it out, a folded piece of paper fluttered to the ground. I frowned, picked it up, and slowly unfolded it. A drawing. Crude lines. Oversized eyes. Wild curls drawn in loops. Me. Sort of. At the bottom, in clumsy crayon letters, it read: Mummy. I could tell it belonged to the little boy, Nolan.

The way their own breathing sounded. Eli started drawing. Not stories. Just lines. Circles. Swirls. He drew the moons. Over and over. Not to remember them. Just because they were pretty. One day he drew Luna’s Heart. Low. Pink. And without meaning to, he drew a small bed of clouds under it. Ori saw it. “What’s that?” “A place for it to rest,” Eli said. “If it’s been watching us for 3000 years... maybe it’s tired of standing.”

"Just don't let it make decisions for either of us." He pulled her gently into his arms, careful and warm. "I'll work on that." "That's all I'm asking." --- That evening, Sorren found them in the garden, carrying a small, carefully wrapped bundle she offered to Lira with visible nervousness. "What's this?" "Open it." Inside, Lira found a small, soft blanket, hand stitched with careful, deliberate patience, a howling wolf silhouette worked delicately into one corner. "I started it the day you told me," Sorren admitted. "I'm not entirely skilled with needlework, admittedly, but I wanted to make something. Something that connects them to where they came from."

Chloe walked back to the nursery to fetch the boy. "Liam, dinner's ready. Did you finish your draw—" Her voice died in her throat. Chloe’s hands balled into trembling fists as she stared at the canvas. It wasn't a happy family portrait. It was a depiction of hell. In the center of the paper, Liam had drawn three figures, but they weren't people. Two of them were towering "monsters," and the third was a small, broken boy cowering in a dark corner. The first monster was a man with eyes the size of saucers, wearing a tattered T-shirt. In one hand, he brandished a heavy belt; in the other, a glowing cigarette butt that he was pressing toward the crying boy on the ground.

Not fully awake, Luna heard the voice calling in singsong. "Hmmmm..." Luna hummed, stirring from her bed. Her comforter sliding off the bed. Rubbing her eyes awake, Luna sat up and tried to shake off her sleepy head. She instantly noticed the light coming from her window. She stood up and went to look outside. The wind is loud and strong. The trees are swaying. Its falling leaves whirled away by the wind forming waves and circles in the open air. The light coming from the moon shone bright, illuminating everything.

The October evening was warm inside and cold outside and the particular quality of a gathering at the turn of the season when the warmth of people together was the right answer to the cold world beyond the walls. The next day Calla’s drawing arrived. A birthday drawing. Elena had written on the back that Calla had spent three days on it and had told her it was the most important drawing she had ever done. It showed the web. More detailed than the previous drawings. Each node is a specific figure now, not abstract shapes but people, each one different from the others in small ways that suggested Calla was feeling individual presences in the web clearly enough to render them distinct. In the c

There was another with two shadowy figures as if you were looking at them in first person. “Lilly when did you draw these?” Luka asked. “The night before I knew who Kenny and Axel were to me. Why?” replied. Luka's brow furrowed as he examined the drawings more closely. "You drew these before you knew about the mate bond? Before the Moon Rose appeared?" Lilly nodded, moving to stand beside him. "I couldn't sleep that night. I kept having these images flash through my mind, so I drew them to try and make sense of it all." She pointed to the wolf drawing. "I didn't understand what the colors meant then."

"You fought every mafia family in Europe. You stared down assassins without blinking. But saying three words terrified you." Lorenzo took a sip of coffee. "It still does." Lorrie sat with Ava and the other rescued children. They had finally begun to smile again. One little boy carefully handed her a folded paper. "I made this." She unfolded it. It was a drawing of a man and a woman standing together—the man in a black suit, the woman in a green dress. Between them stood several children holding hands. At the top, written in uneven handwriting, were the words: > **Our Heroes**>

Then she froze. “What?” Selina didn’t answer. Instead, she slowly rotated the page. The entire page contained a portrait, a detailed drawing of Lyra. The resemblance was unmistakable, the same eyes, the same features, the same face. Even the small scar near her eyebrow had been included. Ronan was the first to break the silence. “This can’t be real.” Lyra couldn’t disagree. The drawing looked recent, accurate and impossible. Her mother had created it years before her disappearance. Years before Lyra became the woman she was now, and somehow she had drawn her exactly.

She touched one drawing. "This is the river. This is the buildings. This is the chamber." She moved her hand along the progression. "This is the arrivals. All of it, drawn, in order." She stopped. "And then this." Aria crouched down. The drawing at the end of the sequence was different from the others. Not architectural. Not geographical. Not the specific practical diagrams Elena had used for the physical preparations. A circle. Inside it, two figures. One large. One very small.