Ominous Drawing Novels & Stories

Which brings me to my master plan. Lucas raised an eyebrow, leaning over my shoulder as I began to draw furiously. "Your master plan?" "Yes," I said proudly, tapping the paper. "Look." I drew a small, stick-figure crown sitting on top of a giant head with angry eyebrows. "This is me… playing you." Then, I drew a row of tiny little monsters at the bottom of the page with jagged teeth, horns, and tiny pitchforks. "These are your court ministers and Lord Brandon. They're basically demons."

All of the limbs were stokes of circles and blocks and in the painting its teeth were overly dramatized, its ears pulled back, and its limbs far too long and painted pitch black, but beyond all of this the essence of the picture was of a Ghoul. Big black eyes, dripping fluids, long talons dripping in blood and a pile of silently moaning bodies laid beneath it. Bodies it was devouring. It was obviously an old panting and the dullness of color and the yellow of the canvas it was on, spoke to many years of wear, but none the less it gave Brandon a chill. There it was. The monsters that had plagued him endlessly. The monsters that his enemies controlled. Without trying to be too obvious about it

Her belly button was tucked inside the muscle and that's where the drawing stopped. May scrunched her nose. This drawing reminds her of someone. Someone she doesn't want to be reminded of, Bella. Her eyes shifted to the next drawing which she found to be the worst. A woman and man having sex. No, it looked like she was being raped cause her hands were tied. May's stomach churned. She felt uncomfortable. Why does he have such obscenities drawn in his room? The third and fourth drawings she loved, however. She thought the artist had done a wonderful job drawing a rose that looked like it was dying with its leaves dropping to the floor.

she bowed and try to run away but master Damien dragged her back. You said you were bored and decided to stay on the sun, scribbling down this?" He asked why staring down at the drawing of a man with two horns and an ugly face which she drew. His eyes fixed on the drawing darting all over it confused about why she had to come out to the sun to draw this meaningless thing when his eyes darted to the letter inscribed under the drawing. "Master Damien? This thing here is me?" He asked his eyes threatening to bulge out of his sockets.

He stretched forth his left hand, he had a ring on his index finger, and we were asked to kiss it. When I thought it was all over, a painting was brought in by some men, it was covered so they took off the cloth and that’s when i saw the image clearly, Ursa Mortis..the bear of death, it was a masterpiece drawing. The Don bowed in respect and we followed too, even when we didn’t know what we were doing. We followed our Master.

Hunter had utilized three A3 papers to complete the drawing. Grayson laid the drawing on the table and studied it carefully. After a while, Hunter asked, "Mr. Grayson, are you asking me to draw these for Ms. Belle?" Grayson had given Hunter a vague answer the last time he asked the same question. However, this time, he gave a definite answer, nodding his head. "That's right." "That's what I've suspected. Anyway, the only things I can associate with Ms. Belle within this tomb are these two murals, as the woman depicted on them bears a striking resemblance to her," said Hunter.

AVA Something is up. I feel it in my bones, in the way the air stills when I walk by. The mansion feels like it’s holding its breath, like something is lurking just beyond what my eyes can see. The drawing. That damned drawing. It’s been haunting me since yesterday. A crude sketch, yes…but there was something wrong about it. The boy with the crown. The girl with wings. A shadow reaching between them. A river. A shadow behind them. Sebastian and I both saw it, and something in him changed.

Or maybe he is struggling with the loss of someone close to him, or maybe he has terrible nightmares each night and is looking for an outlet…I’m truly reaching at this point. Perhaps some of these explanations would make perfect sense, if it weren’t for the uneasy feeling in my stomach. The drawings are just so...unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Is Noah really like this? I can’t imagine he would be, from the times I’ve met him, but how could I gauge from those small moments what he is truly like? He’s drawn demon like creatures emerging from a smudge of darkness. Each have eyes void of all feeling, of all mortal like tendencies. Dark hooked claws reach out, almost completely off the page, lik

My breath hitched. One drawing, closer to my knee, caught my full attention. It depicted a stark, angular room. No furniture, just cold, hard lines for walls. In the corner, a small, stick-figure child, rendered with heartbreaking simplicity, was curled into a tight ball. Above the figure, dominating the top half of the page, loomed a monstrous shape, a crude, dark scribble with glaring, empty eyes and a gaping maw filled with jagged teeth. It wasn't a literal monster; it was pure, distilled menace, radiating from the crude lines. The sheer terror implicit in the small figure’s posture, the overwhelming scale of the threat… It felt like a punch to the chest.

But now, he was here, standing in front of me, holding out a drawing like a peace offering. With a smile, I took it gently, carefully unfolding the paper. But my smile faded as I stared down at the image in my hands. It was just like his other drawings—dark, stark lines, the same unsettling red and blacks—but this one was different. It wasn’t just a vague scene. It was a face. A man’s face, drawn in heavy black strokes. Dark eyes, a cruel mouth. And beneath it, in the wobbly handwriting of a child, was a name. “Mr. B.”