Suspense Drawing Novels & Stories

I narrowed my eyes, studying the curves and signature patterns, and a deep, uneasy suspicion settled in my gut. This wasn’t her design. I quickly pulled out my phone and snapped a few pictures, making sure to capture every detail, the design, the markings, the barely visible signature at the bottom of the sketch. Without hesitation, I sent the images to Art with a short, firm message: “I want you to scan whose signature work this is.” It wasn’t just paranoia. Mirela had been plotting more than usual lately, and if my instincts were right, this pendant design was a piece of a much larger puzzle. That gut feeling - that it would lead to some mighty discovery - was too big to ignore.

It's a better scent than anxiety. Back at the counter, I opened my sketchbook. Lines formed. A swirl of cityscape, a smear of shadow that might or should have been a figure. I let the pencil move, trying to draw the noise out of my head. Minutes, maybe hours slipped past. The light shifted from grey to a clearer gold. Eventually, hunger nudged me. I made toast, slathered it with butter and honey, and ate standing at the counter. My phone buzzed once from the coffee table. I heard it, knew the vibration against wood by heart, but didn’t move. Not yet.

It's like a hobby, something I do when I get bored but I don't do it regularly. I turned to the back if my rough note and started drawing the first thing that entered my head, mountains, waterfalls,rivers. Soon detention was over for the day,we exited the detention room. " Let me drop you off" Amaya offered " Don't worry Amy I've got to go to the workshop to get my car,go on without me" I said. "Oh okay stay safe" she said and left. I went to my locker to put away my books when the book I did my drawing in fell out of my bag, I picked it up and looked at the drawing again. I was so into what I was doing that I didn't realize the person standing beside me until the book was snatched from my h

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” He kissed her on the forehead, the familiar warmth of her skin almost undoing him completely. Tessa grabbed his hand, tugging at it with excitement. “Come look! I made something.” Kris let her pull him across the room, each step feeling like a lead weight. She led him to the floor where a pencil drawing lay on a sheet of paper. Kris sat down beside her, feeling numb as he looked at the drawing. It was simple—just three stick people. A man, a woman, and a little girl in between them holding both of their hands.

I nodded, but inside, the knots in my stomach tightened. Later, I lay on the couch with my sketchbook again. The house was silent, except for the hum of the security system. I drew without looking—my fingers moved faster than I could stop them. When I looked down, I froze. I’d drawn a figure standing at the edge of the lemon grove. Just outside the window. Long black coat. No face. I didn’t remember drawing it. I slammed the book shut. Maybe it was just fear getting to me. Maybe it was nothing.

In the drawings it looks like something geological, like rock strata pressing down, like the accumulated mass of something that has been building for a long time and has reached the point where its own weight is the force that drives it. In the most recent drawing, the one I did at three this morning when the vision pulled me out of sleep, it covers him completely. There is a figure in the center of the page that is Chase, and around it and over it and through it is something so dense and settled that the figure is barely visible inside it. I look at the drawing in the morning light. Then I pick up my phone and I call him. He answers on the third ring, which is one ring later than usual, whi

I couldn't sleep. Desperate for an escape, I grabbed a sheet of heavy art paper and began drawing. My hands shook as I began to draw, letting my raw emotion guide the strokes. Within minutes, James's face began to emerge from the stark white paper. I stared intensely into his eyes through the charcoal lines, feeling a dangerous, intoxicating connection to a ghost.

He stopped the car and looked over at Suzanne, “What’s wrong? Suzanne?” Suzanne’s face had gone pale, she pressed the paper into Tom’s hand and started to cry. She broke down, all the anxiety, grief and fear that had been building up in her was too much to handle. “Shh….it’s alright Suzanne. It’s alright,” he hushed, gathering her into his arm. The brown faded paper fell onto Tom's lap. He kissed her mane and soothed a tearful Suzanne. But had he seen the paper, Tom would have noticed a tiny drawing at the bottom of the paper. The drawing eerily resembled the mark on Suzanne's palm. Under it, Hendricks had scribbled a single English word.

But Elena slowly walked towards Sarah to peep at what she drew. Sarah sat down, closed her eyes and clenched her fist while Elena peeped at what she drew. "What's this?" Elena muttered to herself as she stared at what Sarah drew. A little boy, lying on a rock on the pool of his blood with a gunshot at his forehead. She wrote the number 9 close to her drawing and circled it. "What the fuck is this? " Elena muttered to herself. "Elena! You've got to see this!" Laura called out to her but she was still staring at the weird drawing.

CHAPTER 3: SUYI WARNING! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS LIGHT (SEXUAL, SUICIDE, DANGER, EXPLICIT) SCENES AND WORDS NOT SUITABLE FOR PEOPLE BELOW 18 YEARS OLD. READ AT YOUR OWN RISKS! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! Baffled by the sudden sound of a powerful voice, her body flinched a little and only managed to calm down when she counted one to five. Every time that she feels scared or anxious, counting down always eases her heart.