Vent Drawings 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

Violet I returned to my laptop, trying to push thoughts of Nate and his threats out of my mind. The design software was still open, my half-finished sketch waiting. I let my fingers move across the trackpad, adjusting lines, and refining curves. The patterns were intricate, almost hypnotic in their complexity. I blinked and I saw the swirls and symbols flash in front of my eyes. They felt familiar. Something that I had drawn in the sketches my dear mom had burned before.

At this moment, the demon eye in the drawing suddenly moved its pupil towards her. Edward's first drawing after making a deal with the devil was the demon eye he met in his dream. It was the scary realistic paintings. The blood veins in the eye were also carefully sketched. Its sudden movement frightened Mrs. Dieter. The lights in the room flashed one after another and the whole space fell into a terrifying darkness.

Dimitri turned around, brows lifting slightly. Zoe walked over, all four feet of her confidence on full display, and handed it up to him. He looked down at the drawing. Three stick figures stood in front of a black square labeled "HOME". One had long curls. One had a crown. The third had very sharp shoulders and icy blue eyes drawn in clumsy marker. Above them, Zoe had drawn a yellow sun with a big smile and the word "US" in careful, crooked letters. Dimitri held the paper like it might explode.

I realized that the vetting had already begun and waited for my submission to come up while my heart pounded. “And this one, from Evelyn Talbot.” The screen lit up with a drawing, beautiful orange and purples stood out from the screen, bathing the designers in the front row in light. A couple of oooh and ahh were heard while I stayed frozen in my seat, staring at a drawing that looked like it was straight out of my sketchbook.

Finally managing to step out into the light, V slowly walked over to the white crumpled objects that Siel dropped, almost sure that the reason for her grief was within those wads of paper. As he spread open the wrinkled angels, Vincent checked the drawings in red and green crayons. They were cute and colorful creations illustrating simple toddler toys and a puppy... Gifts that he would be quite happy to get for her. But what called his attention the most was one crayon sketch of a freckled-face brown-haired woman with that now-familiar smile. It was labeled, "Happy Mommy" and it was in feminine handwriting too. That drawing's smile was so contagious; he couldn't avoid grinning himself...

Her heartbeat quickened, not with fear, but with that strange kind of anticipation that only comes when something hidden is just within reach. She knelt down, slowly this time. Gently, deliberately, she pulled the drawer open fully. Inside: more drawings. Crayon sketches on yellowed paper — childish but full of detail. Two boys under a mango tree, one taller, one grinning with front teeth missing. Another of a house, clearly the Kareem mansion, drawn with careful precision and love. The name “Rami” was scribbled in the corner of one page. Zara’s fingers trembled as she lifted an old essay from a thin folder. It was worn at the edges, but the handwriting was neat, even, and emotional. At the

Now, she sat here in the mornings, drinking the coffee he made for her—the silent, pathetic peace offering he left on the counter every day, hoping she wouldn't throw it out. He looked at the refrigerator—at the blue circular magnet holding up the three drawings. He wanted his drawing up there so badly it made his chest ache, but he didn't know how to ask without sounding desperate. "What are we drawing, Eli?" "Animals," Eli said, his small hand moving with fierce concentration. "Mrs. Yusuf said to draw our favorites." "How many do we have?" "Three." Eli pointed a small finger. "That's a brachiosaurus. That's Patterson. That's Gerald."

As I bent down to pick it up, I realised it had fallen open to a specific page. The illustration staring back at me held me in place like a beast with its claws in my chest. It was a drawing of a monster with long, dried-up black hair, claw-like nails, and prominent fangs. Below the drawing was a single red drop of blood, as if it were dripping from the fangs. I narrowed my eyes, trying to decipher the ancient, jagged writing that surrounded the drawing: