Scary Things To Draw 소설 & 이야기

Lane yelled, but Gendry was already dead. After taking a deep breath, everyone looked at the drawing. It was a humongous figure, capable of standing up like a human, but had an extremely menacing and hideous face. It was as though its face had been burned. "What is that? An alien?" "I don't know…” "What could it be?" Nobody could identify the horrifying monster Gendry had drawn. It looked like a being of pure evil. Rozi's expression changed when she saw the drawing. Adrian noticed and asked, "What's the matter, Rozi? Do you know what this is?"

Her eyes alight upon scattered sketches strewn across the surface, drawing her in with an irresistible pull. Picking up one of the sketches, she is met with the striking image of a wolf, its form captured in intricate detail. As her gaze flits to another sketch, a closer view of the wolf reveals its menacing features—fangs bared and saliva dripping, an embodiment of primal ferocity. A series of similar sketches follow, each portraying the majestic yet fearsome creatures in different poses. A furrow creases Rose's brow in puzzlement as she contemplates the artist's apparent fixation on these lupine subjects.

Carefully I took out the sketchbook to see the content of it. I went towards the balcony and flipped the pages. The first few pages had nothing specific in it. They looked like her futile attempts to draw something as she had tried to draw something but had covered half of the page with black paint as if she was having trouble painting whatever she wanted to. After around 10-12 pages I saw a sketch that had left me horrified. The sketch was beautiful, yet scary at the same time. It was a sketch of a girl trapped in a cage. She had depicted it so beautifully but the question was why did she draw something like that?

he inquired casually. She seemed startled from her reading, "O-oh. No. Just...looking at some illustrations." "Ah." He could smell a nervous scent wafting off of her. She was lying. But he didn't press the matter. He was too busy presently. Twillow stared at the illustrations and the fancily scrawled heading that read: Giants. The illustration looked like a horrible, drooling, sharp-toothed, yellow-eyed demon, with gray skin, a thick matted beard, and towered over the scribbled trees.

I always lock it before leaving the premises. “But I… Did I…” Brushing it off, I pull the mini door open, and yelp when a heap of papers rains on me as if waiting for me to open it all along. I stay still for a moment, just blinking at the drawings. They’re ugly exaggerated images of me; big head, messy hair, thin legs… I’m as tiny as a doll, while a big guy towers over me, his pants down, and I’m choking on his… What?! My heart drops.

Then suddenly— Her hands began shaking. 💔 Every page contained the same drawing. Again. And again. And again. 👁️ A silver eye. Hundreds of times. Drawn in different sizes. Different styles. Different angles. But always the same eye. 🌙 Aaira turned another page. Then another. Then another. And her fear grew. Because beside the eye, there was always a number. 3:13 😱 Every drawing. Every page. Every symbol. 3:13. 💀 ⸻

"Damn you, Annabelle." As I continued my solitary journey, the shadows cast by the towering trees became more menacing. Each twist and turn in the road seemed to reveal hidden horrors, imaginary figures lurking just beyond my peripheral vision. My overactive imagination conjured images of malevolent entities hiding behind the gnarled trunks, their eyes glinting with malicious intent. A shiver ran down my spine as I quickened my pace, desperate to escape the oppressive darkness that enveloped me.

Opposite and sides of the room sat tall shelves carrying textbooks, all medical. He was always studying. I stopped at the table, looking over the papers. Then I took interest on a particular white sheet of paper sticking out of a large red covered book. On the paper's protruded side was a drawing of some creature. I hate to admit that it actually looks like a werewolf but it did. Picking it out from the book and up to my face, I could clearly see the picture now. It's an image of a werewolf, it's body parts fully labelled.

Brighthall is the antithesis of the dark, gloomy castles the other vampire royals are known to live in. “Has she had unusual dreams before all this started?” Ivy asks. “Or is this a recent development?” “The nightmares are recent. Before that, she had been making strane drawings. They’re unusual for a child of her age to be imagining. Dark and disturbing.” Ivy looks at me in concern. “Do you have them with you?” I pull them out of my leather satchel, handing them to my niece who looks over each drawing with rapt attention. The bloody one make me feel queasy. No matter how many times I see them, they always look ominous. The moon inside a black sun still confuses me.

"That's not how you hold a brush!" protested Axe, seeing that my hand position was far from correct. "Don't press it," he babbled naggingly. He didn't know. I deliberately looked wrong in his eyes, and-jackpot! I was right. Axe seemed to be well-versed in the basic techniques of drawing or painting. I could tell that the old drawing was indeed his. I also remembered that Axe was very afraid of birds. The drawing I saw and Axe's fear of birds were clearly connected. There was no mistaking it, Axe was a little boy who expressed his sadness into a work of art. But why? Was he unhappy while living with uncle Danial?