Scream Drawings Novels & Stories

They were all pretty convincing. A big spiral-bound notebook made of drawing paper lay on the chair. I flipped through a few pages. Some had charcoal drawings made with angry looking strokes. Dark and rough, but still recognizable as fields and hills you’d find around here. Other pages had diagrams in pen with clusters of spidery notes. Prop guillotines and coffins with spring-loaded lids. But most of the pages had monsters. Some drawn, some cut from movie magazines and pasted in. Some were more Polaroids of James in makeup; others were ordinary pictures of people from advertisements or news stories. On those he’d painted open-throat wounds or gouged out eyes with pen.

This time my body had a lot of purple and blue bruises to show for it. I was positive the Smith's were involved in a shady business. I had seen files with a weird logo of a monochrome skull in a bandana and two daggers placed in an opposite angle beneath the skull while cleaning Richard's room on countless occasions. At first I thought it was a research work project or something, until I noticed what a bloody creep he is.

No wonder Killian couldn’t look me in the eye this morning. I reach for the sketch pad Elara left by the nightstand. My fingers tremble, but I grip the pencil like it’s my lifeline. I don’t even think, I just draw. Symbols. Circles. Eyes with fire spilling from them. A wolf with a shattered spine. A crown that burns. A clock with no hands. My hand stops only when I notice the paper trembling beneath my touch. Not from me. From the floor. A low vibration hums through the wood. Like a warning. Something is coming.

I wonder what she would come up with next. After a few moments, she finally finished and eagerly called out to me, "Lycan Aaron, can you guess what this is?" Excitedly, she showed me the screen of my phone, revealing her latest creation. I studied the drawing intently, taking in the long oval shape with two balls below and hairs beneath them. At the top, there was a line. Wait. Isn’t that…? “Are you crazy?” I asked, frowning. “Why are you drawing a man’s d*ck?”

She gave her a look, and she quickly started rummaging around in her purse until she pulled out a makeup bag. “Why would you want to cover it?” Drake asked her as he reached out and brushed the back of a finger over the mark. “It’s beautiful. There are magazines and websites that would pay for photos of your neck like that.” And just like that, Drake Collins went from being Sue’s top celebrity crush to an everyday, creepy perv. Awesome, Sue thought. Never meet your heroes. Sue knew that such magazines and websites existed. It was a fetish thing for some werewolves to like the way a human looked all scratched up and bitten. Sue was a pretty open-minded, but she didn’t want anything to do with

From the drawing, it's lunch break and students are milling about around me but I'm standing there, looking stuck and feeling exhausted from the healing process. My eyes are a muddy brown but my lips are stretched out in a wide smile. My shoulders are slumped but my nostrils are flared like I'm angry and my fists are clenched so tightly, it's like I'm trying not to go wild. Like I'm trying to rein in my demons. And I don't even remember this. “These drawings are incredible, Jeremy.” “I should know, I made them and they're called outlines.” I slap his chest playfully, “Show a little gratitude.”

Grandpa Scott held the torn pieces of the drawing paper in his hand and threw them into the trash. "I'm going to take a nap. I'm exhausted." Bianca hugged her drawing supplies and walked back to her room. After hearing the door close, Francesco's Adam's apple moved slightly. When he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse. "What do they look like?" "See for yourself." Grandpa Scott opened his phone gallery. On the screen was a secretly photographed image of the drawing. Bianca was good at drawing, and her skills were impressive. The two babies she had drawn looked adorable.

He rushes in and stops at the edge of Adrian’s bed. Adrian’s eyes widen in surprise. “Hey, champ.” Liam pulls out a folded paper from his bag. “I made you a drawing.” Adrian tries to sit up straighter. “Let’s see.” Liam hands it over carefully. It’s a crayon sketch of the three of us—me, Liam, and Adrian—holding hands under a bright yellow sun. There’s even a dog beside us, though we don’t have one. Adrian stares at it, clearly touched. “This is amazing.”

Before Linda even finished speaking, North had already flipped open the sketchbook. Everyone’s expressions changed at that. Linda’s words became stuck in her throat. All of the designs had been obscured with ink. On the paper were various writings in red pen, saying things like, “B*TCH” and “VIXEN” that made the sight an unbearable one. The handwriting was angry and twisted, and it could be seen that the person who wrote it hated the owner of the sketchbook greatly.

I was a Saint to my mom and a slut to the men in my life. I grabbed my sketchbook and a charcoal stick. I didn't plan it. I just started scratching at the paper, the black dust staining my fingers. I drew myself not the pretty version. I drew a boy with his chest ripped open, screaming into a void. I drew giant, jagged hawks with Chadwick’s eyes and Miguel’s tattoos, literal pieces of my flesh hanging from their beaks. I pressed so hard the charcoal snapped, tearing the paper. It was the only way I could scream.