Vent Drawings Novels & Stories

Erwin Wilson did not know the accompaniment just now, he bowed his head and wrote it in front of Ian James: "Here is my entire design!" Ian James raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise. Now that most people draw on machines, he sees very few people willing to draw on traditional paper like this. Ian James opened the notebook, inside there were five or six sheets. Brain sheets are also pictures with every detail. Erwin Wilson is also afraid that viewers will not fully understand, but captions are on top. Ian James watched the whole thing, then put it down on the table. He purposely kept them away from the glass of water, afraid that dirt would wet them.

She sat down on the chair and began to look at them. She felt her skin crawl as she looked at the drawings. They were of the same man. Tall. Thin. Faceless. With tentacles. But now they were not alone, on the sides were written letters. On one alone they said many NO. NO. NO. And on another was a sentence written: Don't look out the window.

Priya unfolded it slowly, and laid it on the table. It was, exactly as she’d described, a child’s drawing. Rough lines, the kind only a very young child draws, a square house with a triangle roof, smoke coming from a chimney in careful zigzags, and outside it, standing in a row, six small stick figures, each one slightly different, each one clearly meant to be a specific person even though none of them had faces drawn in. Underneath, in careful, uneven child’s handwriting, the words Priya had quoted.

Wendy said. Adrian let out a low gasp beneath his shuddering breath and somehow he drew the pencil and the book to himself again. He was having the visions again. This time, his drawings were clearer and it looked like a continuation of the previous but they could not see the connection. The last thing he drew, was Gabriel in a room, lying flat like he was sick or dead but Wendy and West took it that he was sick. This picture he was drawing, was a giant animal that had the face of a fierce cat bowing before a woman who stood beside a bed with a lady lying on it.

Until I looked down at my desk. It was covered with dozens of pages, which were covered with black ink. symbols I did not remember that I drew. Circles and circles and circles without end, jagged teeth of the runes and spirals of blood which leaked at the corners of the paper. They looked eerily familiar. When Elias entered, I jumped. He never made much noise like a man of his bulk. His eyes wandered over his drawings before I could thrust them aside. “How did you come by those?” he said.

As Evan closed the door, he suddenly realized that the fridge was covered in pieces of drawings he hadn't noticed before. They were mostly Toby's childish sketches of the legends about the Moon Goddess, along with a few crooked young wolves. Evan suddenly let out a chuckle as he looked at the doodles he used to find childish and almost beneath the dignity of the werewolf packs. For a moment, it felt like he could imagine Toby sneaking into his study on tiptoe. The pup would carefully hold up a copy of Chronicles of the Werewolf Pack and come up to Evan, asking, "Can you read with me, Daddy?"