Novel & Cerita Suspense Drawing

One page had a crude mirror sketched on it, with the words: “There is no ‘either.’ There’s only when they’re looking at you together.” Noah’s breath hitched. He clutched the edge of the drawer and bent forward, trying to calm the burn in his chest. The room tilted — or maybe it was his balance slipping. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. He should put it back. He should walk away. He should— But his body wouldn’t move. There was something about the desperate edge of the drawings — the handwriting, the spirals in the margins, the fevered layering of pencil over pencil — that felt too familiar.

I didn’t remember drawing it at all. “Wow, that’s dark,” she said. “But the beauty in it is so overwhelming. What inspired you to draw that?” I shook my head. “I wish I knew,” I replied. “I just let my mind take the lead on it and I guess it’s darker than even I knew.” The drawing was of a faceless boy with shadows surrounding him as they pulled him in all directions while he covered his face. His body was covered in writing but I couldn’t make out what the writing was exactly.

“Do you think it means something?” I hugged my knees. “I don’t know. But I think she’s real.” Rhett rubbed his eyes. “Could you give me a sketch or something?” I got out of bed, tiptoed over to the desk, and grabbed some paper and crayons. I didn’t talk—I just drew. Big swirly black veil. Hollow eyes. Long fingers. Long black dress. Rhett stared at it like he was studying a treasure map. “That’s... not normal,” he said.

Very fair. The days passed quickly, and Havenmist entered the rainy season. Every afternoon, the downpour arrived on time, washing away the sticky heat. One humid evening, after working late, I returned to my apartment and had just started cooking instant noodles when my phone received a message from the secondhand marketplace. The buyer who had bought my wedding dress sent me several photos. The first showed the dress on a bright-smiling girl. She stood in front of a simple backdrop, her eyes shining, her face full of happiness.

Instead, Caspian took advantage of the excellent momentum and luck to continue drawing. Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh! The Time Warp Zone was instantly filled with the sound of the brush moving on the paper. Soon, three pieces of successfully drawn weight inscription appeared in front of Caspian. At this time, Caspian's sweat dripped from his hair. Drawing four pieces of weight inscriptions seemed to be more tiring than practicing The Strangulation of an Angered Dragon ten times. Nevertheless, Caspian was happy. "I'll keep one of the weight inscriptions and sell the rest." Caspian took a deep breath.

Without much thought, I pick one up and begin to sketch. At first, it’s just random lines, soft, swirling shapes, but soon it becomes more intentional. I let the pencil move on its own, trying to capture this tight feeling in my chest, the sense of being watched and questioned, of being stuck between two lives. Drawing helps, just a little. The tension in my shoulders eases as the page slowly fills up with images. I don’t know how much time passes until a sudden, firm knock echoes through the house. The sound jerks me from my thoughts. I blink down at the half finished drawing and set the pencil aside, standing slowly. My legs feel stiff from sitting so long.

But nothing on my forehead, I don’t need Jace walking in and murdering you on sight. "No promises." He’s already reaching for a pen from the nightstand. ”Stay still." I sit up straighter, arms crossed as he leans in, his breath warm against my skin as he drags the pen across my cheek. He takes his time, which makes me even more suspicious. "What the hell are you drawing?" I demand. He pulls back just slightly, grinning. ”You’ll find out." After another moment, he sits back with an exaggerated flourish. ”Masterpiece complete."

Damn. Another deep breath later I shook my head then moved his sketch aside and started drawing my latest victim instead. Willing my mind to think about my latest kill, I started sketching, fast. The lines, the shape of his slouched body, and the fear show his level of stress without showing off his face. The blood dripping from his stomach made them perfectly in line with the moment his life was slipping away. My wrist moves hurriedly, line after line, shading, shaping Rudy the tattletale. The coloring comes next, then I decided to stop when my back felt too tired to continue.

Beside the paper and pen lay a thin box with a set of graphic pencils. A drawing kit? I opened the pad immediately and began to draw, the dream pouring through me like water down a cliff. It was vivid and fast, my fingers moving on instinct and guided by the memory that wad etched into my mind. The dizzying swirl of numbers, the images in the holographic screens, the massive glowing codes. I drew it as perfectly as I could, adding the faces of my children. After several minutes, I felt no more inspiration coming, so I sat back and stared at the sketch. My fingers had gone sore, my breathing a bit shallow.

Hopefully, that was what Hayden drew today. Hayden paused and lowered his head while rubbing his nape. He looked resistant, but they all stared at him with a wronged expression as if saying, 'We've all shown you our drawings; you can't hide yours from us' which made him sigh and decide to show them his drawing; it wouldn't hurt anyway. 'Hayden drew a man.' Their boiling excitement and curiosity cooled down immediately. And they sat back in their chairs—in disappointment—upon seeing the drawing.