Novelas y relatos de Nightmare Freddy Drawings

“Thank you so much—“ I pause as I notice the Beta Assistant’s attention wasn’t on me but was on the ground. I raised an eyebrow in confusion, then followed his gaze and— “Ahhhh!!” I cried out in shock, my eyes wide opened and my heart skipped a beat as I looked at the drawing on the ground. It was a drawing of a naked man! Of course, who else would it be but the man I’m obsessed with…the SS+ Alpha, Marcus!

I set it on the table, opened the clasp, and flipped back the cover. There was no marked floor plan. No security notes. Nothing except one sheet of white paper that immediately slid out, slipped past my fingers, and landed directly on the table. In front of Rafael. Face-up. THANK YOU RAFA LEMON The drawing of Rafael stood tall across most of the page, with a long black rectangle for a body, arms that reached too far down, hair like an angry cloud, and a pink crown sized appropriately for a hamster. Beside him were lemon trees that looked like diseased broccoli.

"Mr. Warner, these are the drawings Felix made during the psychological therapy sessions I conducted. Can you discern what they represent?" Bradley opened the folder and noted the dates on each drawing. With just one glance, he sensed the overwhelming weight in the drawings. Although Felix used vibrant colors, there was no hint of brightness or joy. Instead, a suffocating sense of oppression permeated the artwork.

There was no way to explain it all clearly. Jefferson said that Freddy might not have done anything wrong to Freya, but it was still a fact that Freddy had woken up to a naked woman beside him. A naked man and woman waking up in the same bed. The situation was clear-cut. Even a fool would not believe it if Freddy were to say that nothing had happened between them the night before.

--- That Night — Blake’s Bedroom Tyree had texted twice. He didn’t answer. Instead, he sat on his bed staring at his old robotics trophies, their shine dulled under dust and growing expectations. He grabbed his sketchpad, turned to a clean page, and started drawing. Not a blueprint. Not a wireframe. A face. Her face. Soft lines, sharp angles, fire in the eyes. When he finished, he wrote at the bottom: > “She was never a crush. She was a reckoning.”

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.

We all looked like we had been through hell and Lord knows I felt like it too. “I had the weirdest dream last night,” Freya visibly shivered at the thought of her dream before continuing her narration. “There was this weird woman …kind of pretty but pure evil if you ask me. She had fangs and everything all topped off with a tail. Not even a small fail no she was like half woman and half serpent looking,” Both Damien and I simultaneously spit out our coffee with my cup hitting the floor with a loud bang before breaking into small pieces as my brain processed Freya’s words .

Well, I guess it is better that I had no idea whatever dilemma they are discussing. My nightmares were becoming a daily occurrence but no one seems to notice. I calm myself by listening to music and sketching. I draw the faces of the men that murdered my parents. I've been seeing their faces clearly in my dreams but the man who saved me was never visible. I can’t see him clearly. It was like my mind won't let me remember his face. I even draw sketches of Stanley and the castle where I saw him being murdered. They were constantly in my dreams so I decided to just draw them. I also draw a picture of everyone around me. I was sleeping when I woke up with the loud thud of thunder and a flash of

"I've been having these dreams since Mom's accident. Since the night she went into a coma." She turned the screen toward me. Drawings. Dozens of them. Digital sketches done on her phone, rough and desperate and achingly detailed. They showed a woman—Claire—trapped in darkness. Screaming silently behind what looked like glass or water or some invisible barrier. In some drawings, her body was separate from a glowing, translucent version of herself—like her soul had been ripped away. In others, she was reaching toward something just out of frame. The style was raw. These weren't careful art projects. These were frantic attempts to capture something seen in the depths of a nightmare. Each one wa

There was a text message notification from Freddie, my friend and Special adviser. I glanced toward the opposite side of the table where he sat. He gestured at me to look at my phone. Making sure July’s attention was still on her unbearable presentation, I glanced down at my phone. Freddie sent me a meme that he’d cleverly created by swapping July's head with that of an evil looking Maleficent. I swallowed a snigger. Glancing at him, I shook my head and grinned. “Do you mind?” July's frigid tone broke me out of my thoughts.