Suspense Drawing Novels & Stories

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

“asked Camila. Bea showed her the sheet of paper, Camila took it, but first she placed a kiss on her temple. She grabbed the sheet of paper and looked at it. The smile she had faded little by little as she saw what her sister had drawn. He didn't know if it was a coincidence or if someone had simply told him about it. Bea had drawn a man. But not just any man. He was a tall man, dressed in black, he had no face and his hands, they weren't his hands, they were like.... They were like tentacles. It can't be, thought Camila, feeling her breath hitching. What was all that? Bea couldn't do that drawing, she couldn't. Next to her, Jesse was bent over looking at the drawing. “Oh, no, that's not goo

The age she'd stopped trusting happiness. The age she'd learned that people could disappear. That homes could vanish. That monsters sometimes smiled before they hurt you. Slowly she approached the canvas. And began to draw. Not Paris. Not university. Not Jonathan. Not hospitals. The oak tree. The lines appeared naturally. Almost without thought. A branch. Another. The swing. The field. The distant farmhouse. Jessica stepped back. Her chest tightened. Because suddenly she wasn't drawing a picture. She was remembering. The smell of fresh bread in the kitchen.

His soul almost departed from his body when he nearly failed to clasp the drawing paper. With an enormous conundrum in his mind, Celeb slowly unfolded the paper before becoming frozen in his place. His jaws dropped along with dilating his eyes in disbelieve. He blinked a couple of moment before scanning the artwork deeply. It was the face of a woman lying down under a tree shutting off her elegant eyes in sleep. Even from his miserable sketch, Celeb could infer that the woman was incredibly gorgeous. But the most disquieting part was that it was nearly impossible to decipher her exact facial appearance because of his hopeless drawing skill.

but his tension hung heavy, a fault line Elena felt from the hall. She unpacked Lina’s bag in the kitchen, her turtleneck itching, and pulled out the drawing—two shadows, knives glinting, a child’s scrawl that froze her blood. Her breath hitched, Father Bernard’s trance echoing—shadows with blades—and she shivered, the crash whispering sabotage, a riddle she couldn’t crack. “Elena,” JJ called, tugging her jeans, “cookie?” She blinked, sliding the drawing under a plate, forcing a smile. “Soon, bud,” she said, soft, but her mind churned—chance, or truth?

His employees had gone home. His secretary had left nearly two hours ago. The cleaning staff had already passed through. Yet he remained where he always remained. Behind his desk. Working. Or at least pretending to. His attention drifted toward the drawing again. A crude picture made with colored pencils. Stick figures. A smiling sun. A flower that looked suspiciously like a potato. And in the middle of everything... A man in a suit. The drawing had clearly been made by a child. A very young child. A very energetic child.

It was just like the writings of a computer, neatly and clearly obvious. Her perfect handwriting flows gracefully across the page, with elegant curves and consistent spacing. Each letter was meticulously formed, exuding a sense of sophistication and precision that captures attention and invites admiration. I picked up the drawings, and observed the nude pictures perfectly sketched out on blank sheets. This young Miss drawing is a mesmerizing dance of colors and lines, weaving together to create a vivid tapestry of emotions. With each stroke, she breathes life into her creation, capturing fleeting moments of beauty and depth.

She touched one drawing. "This is the river. This is the buildings. This is the chamber." She moved her hand along the progression. "This is the arrivals. All of it, drawn, in order." She stopped. "And then this." Aria crouched down. The drawing at the end of the sequence was different from the others. Not architectural. Not geographical. Not the specific practical diagrams Elena had used for the physical preparations. A circle. Inside it, two figures. One large. One very small.

I touched my head and murmured in pain. "Are you okay".he asked when she noticed what was going on. I ignored him question and stared at the picture again. I look properly at the drawing and realized it wasn't drawn by one person .this picture was drawned by two people. "Who drew this picture with you ". I asked, he stood up from her seat and walked towards me. "Which picture". he asked "This". The Moment he saw the drawing, I saw him froze in fear, and he nervously bites his lips.

It was a good thing Jasmine knew Serenity well because Drake would not be able to figure her out. Serenity put a lot of thought into drawing the silhouette of a person. Jasmine did not need to get close to guess Serenity was drawing Zachary. Drawn by curiosity, Drake watched as Serenity doodled on the paper. Serenity portrayed the upper half of Zachary’s body on the paper. Once she was done, she took a look and added a heart to his chest. Nevertheless, she penciled the heart rather tiny. Putting down the pen, she grabbed her untouched wine and admired her artwork while sipping it.