Hi! Here’s a story I’m going to tell, I’m going to be in the middle with parenthesis (Yes, like this, don’t think too much). Crayons, always associated with childhood drawings, right? Well this story started with that. Supposedly if you have read any book or story, there’s always a twist (right?).
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The children in Sakura Kindergarten were drawing, as I said and you should know, with crayons. Shiro picked up crayons in turns. Blue, green, then light pink, she was painting a landscape. There was an odd one that stood out, a crayon, I meant.
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A dark, eerie purple colored one. It wasn’t going to match Shiro’s drawing, but it was as if whispering to her. “Come—” it silently said in her mind, to the very bottom of her soul. She picked it up unconsciously. Then, Shiro started drawing furiously over the entire piece of paper, not knowing what would be shown. Her friend, Nana, shaked her slightly, “What are you doing?!” Shiro came back to her senses, finding a drawing of Nana tripping over a rock. It was scary (at least for them) she had no sense of control over the drawing. Shiro threw it away anyway. It was created by her, but not her.
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“I’m gonna go get some more paper……” said Nana. “Ahh!” she tripped over a tiny pebble! It didn’t make any sense at all, a pebble in the middle of a classroom out of nowhere. She thought it was just purely accidental (I mean it should be, at least). Nobody pushed her, so……that’s reasonable, right? Shiro was still in her seat, she couldn’t have come to push Nana and go back. Was it her fault? “Whatever……”she murmured.
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Then it happened again.
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The crayon quietly rolled by Shiro’s hand, convincing her with a voice in the head, a silent whisper, “Pick me up, draw another…..” The crayon had a slight hissing sound, Shiro did as it wanted, another dark art was created. This time, it was different (of course it was) . A red swollen finger was smashed by the door. Bloodish-red, puffed up, painful. Then it was recess for the children. They had such a fun time, playing tag, throw and catch, and just talking with friends. “Time to come back in!” The teacher spoke loudly so everyone could hear her announcement. Just as Shiro and Nana walked in, they thought they were last so they closed the door quickly and got back to their seat, but they didn’t hear the slam of the door. It was a clear crack instead. Tanaka was racing in as fast as possible, knowing he was almost late, he tried to extend his hand so far to keep the door open, his hand and the slide-door became sort of a human-meat sandwich. He yelled in pain, crying.
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Shiro and Nana were terrified. “The drawing…” Shiro said silently. “It’s real” Nana finished the sentence quickly with a fearful expression. (This is just how it happened, and it led to more) They were having Japanese class. Perfect posture, hands placed on desk flatly. “A ka, a o, midori” the student recited the words they just learned. In a flash, there it was again. Shiro tried to ignore it. There were as though a thousand strings pulling her hands towards the crayon, scratching out blood if she didn’t do so. The sound of crayon was loud on the wooden desk.
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The teacher was extremely shocked and said, “Shiro, what and why did you draw?” Shiro suddenly awoke, she didn’t know. How? Where? The crayon is gone again? So many questions filled her head.
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The drawing (quite peculiar, I have to say) was of glimmering black ravens soaring in the air, beaks covered in blood. A person on the side, eyes densed in with blood flowing out. They couldn’t quite see it clearly, who was the person? Would this happen too, by any chance?
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I don’t know what will happen…
Would the crayon be used up one day?
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