Nightmare Freddy Drawings Novels & Stories

Safe. I stood up, dripping, walked naked to the trash bin, and dropped the drawing inside. It landed face-up, those trusting crayon eyes staring at the ceiling. I closed the lid. Not my pack. Not my problem. I crawled into bed, pulled the covers over my head, and waited for sleep that didn’t come.

Nothing pulls me out of a weird mood faster than doodling. As we go through the scene for the umpteenth time, I find myself doing rough sketches of the men in front of me. None of my drawings ever look particularly realistic - my doodles have more of a cartoony, comic book style - but I'm pretty proud of how they turn out. Once I've done Omar and Mr. Grand, I move on to the person I really want to doodle - Orlando. I don't get him right the first time. Or the second. Or the third. At first I can't seem to get his hair right, but by the end it's his eyes that are giving me the most trouble. Nothing I draw can capture how startling and direct they are.

Freddie giggled, eyes filled with contempt. Second unsheathed his army dagger and made a fighting stance. He was ready for any possibilities. At the same time, the swirled sand around him slowly revealed what he didn’t expect. Second’s eyes widened. In an instant, the bear created by the sand appeared. Not one, not two but more than a dozen. “Malicious sand,” Freddie called it. Freddie was fond of bears. Furthermore, the majority of the bears were working for him. Therefore, he created these to show his favoritism to the bear. Although the body wasn’t as sturdy as the original, it was enough to fight this person… probably.

After he finished organizing his papers, he plopped down on a couch in the corner and I followed suit, keeping a decent distance from him. "I think it's amazing," I replied. "Although I haven't seen much of your work, I can already tell it's impressive." Jared then stood up and walked towards a chair, covered in dust, with a pile of albums on top of it. He grabbed one and brought it back to me. "I made that when I was 18," he said, dropping the album onto my lap. A few specks of dust stuck to my jeans, but I chose to ignore them and began flipping through the pages. The drawings were all created using pencils, and one of them depicted a naked woman.

"So you've had some dreams lately?" Everyone knows most of my drawings come from my subconscious while I sleep. "I'd call them weird nightmares." He pats the couch beside him, and I read a very understanding expression on his face. He has woken me up from many nightmares before, and isn't shocked by the horrors I try and describe to him after. Talking with my dad is maybe just what I need to make sense of what's been going on with my Alpha mate and his mystifying pack. So without hesitation, I crawl up beside him, curl my legs under my thighs, and give him my art book. The one with all the darkness, death... And demons.

So that means getting going now. Having a blank page for a commission, and getting started on it, that’s two different things. After wasting most of my free period staring at a large white rectangle, I give up and start doodling in a sketchpad instead. Sketches of faces, mostly. The Pack. Imogen. Mom. The college staff. My tutor, Mrs Bird, as a Sergeant Major in a feathery rainbow uniform, strutting around bellowing orders. Jade as a crow, teaching crow martial arts to a bunch of baby crows. Mary in a Cinderella ball gown. Reese as a tiger. Tom as a warrior fairy, with dragonfly wings and a silver rapier.

I bet when his cheekbones and jaw sharpened into the hard, chiselled man he is today girls couldn't help taking notice. Two of them as well. If his brother looked the same then…and it was at that point I had to think of anything else before Livi rendered me depraved. I stared at the empty paper and charcoals. Usually I could while away an afternoon doodling but when I did sketch, I found myself outlining those distinctive eyebrows. A perfectly straight, handsome nose. It was when I started drawing long tousled hair and shaping his eyes that I muttered, “get a grip Freya,” and pushed the pad to the side.

She was somewhere around seven or eight, completely absorbed in whatever she was drawing, her tongue pressed to the corner of her mouth in concentration. I lowered myself carefully into a chair near her, mindful of my ribs, and looked at the paper. The drawing was full. Not in a crowded way, in a deliberate way, like she had a clear picture in her head and was working her way across the page with intention. There was a dragon in the top left, red and blocky with impressive teeth. Below it, a woman in a red cape with a pointed hat on a flying broom, carefully coloured with a orange crayon. To the right of that, something with fangs and a dark cape that I was fairly certain was meant to be a v

It swirled in lazy patterns with every step I took, making it obvious no one had been in here for years. The stillness in the air felt heavy and untouched, as if the room itself had been holding its breath, waiting for someone to return and disturb it. Drawings covered the walls, some pinned haphazardly while others were curled at the edges where the adhesive had failed. They depicted all kinds of things, but the majority were creatures twisted, nightmarish things with too many limbs, hollow eyes and gaping mouths lined with jagged teeth. Among the creatures were strange Landscapes places that looked warped and wrong, as if reality had stretched too thin. There were also people, some drawn i

Val said. She was more possessive over Freddy than I was and i was pretty possessive myself. “Goodnight, champ,” Darius whispered, pressing a kiss to Freddy’s head. I watched them both, and though my heart felt full, I couldn’t shake the unease creeping up my spine. Freddy’s nightmare had felt… too real for him. Too vivid. I was sick with fear trying to figure out whether out whether it was just trauma or maybe he was being attacked… he could not be.