Issue 22, Page 8
Transcript
1: The deer exits the bedroom and enters the hallway. The morning sun glares through the window down the hall and peeks through the door to the daughter’s bedroom.
2: The father stands in the doorway of the daughter and looks at the drawings on her wall, which are dark and scratchy now.
3: He takes one of the girl’s drawings off the wall. It’s a scribbly mass of thorned tentacles rendered in crayon.
4: The drawing seems to come alive, whipping about, a thin rope-like limb extending off the page to wrap around the stag’s wrist.
5: The dad jumps back, clutching at his arm as dark tentacles climb up and penetrate skin. On the wall behind him, other drawings stir to life.
6: He wakes up. It is still nighttime, and the dad has sat up with a start in bed, alone, clutching his arm in phantom pain.
OH! The scribbles over his face just got… differently ominous.
Oh… OH HELL. That implications hadn’t even occurred to me when I read your comment; it hit me like a ton of bricks.
Is it just me or dose the one on top of his hand look like a face
That looks an awful like a name scribbled out. Anyone else think that?
Agreed.
The shadows on the blanket give me the felling of it retreating off him, like he woke before it could get to him fully.