Two Pictures By Next Tuesday

name is David Gregory. You may have heard of me—the teenage prodigy who took the art world by storm with two small sketches.

That was 12 years ago. I'm no longer a child. But I am still a prodigy. At least that is what Vernon tells me. Only, Vernon is shy. He don't like to be seen much.

So you never heard of me? That must be because you were born under a rock. But this, my story, wouldn't make much sense without a little background.

It would be easier for me if you had heard of me. But seeing that you have not, then I guess it's up to me to bring you up to speed.

I'm warning you, story telling is not my strong suit. That was Pauline's specialty. But Pauline is gone now, and the duty lands in my lap.

Ok, I am rambling now, probably because I do not know where to begin. But as they say in the movies, the show must go on.

It was the summer of 1997. I was 14. Pauline was 15. She was my neighbor, and also the love of my life. Only, I am not sure if she felt the same way.

She had pigtails, wore green shirts with wavy lines and mushrooms, mostly?. She usually wore blue jeans, but on the occasion that she wore shorts I discovered what the term 'hard on' meant.

Summer vacation had just started. But Pauline, always on the hunt for knowledge, wanted to sign up for a summer class at the library. I did not. But I did want to spend as much time with Pauline as possible. So I joined.

The wind was different that day. Never been the same since, well, until Vernon arrived, but I'll get to that later ... I promise.

The wind was strong and heavy, warm and sporadic, coming and going. It made Pauline's pigtails flail from left to right. It was a sight to behold. Very surreal. She looked so old that day. Wise beyond her years. I looked like, well, what I always looked like—sloppy, unorganized with a queer grin that screamed 'I’m in love.’

That foolish grin I wore was nearly knocked off my face when a heavy wind came. It lifted a blue recycling bin (there were no green ones in those days) like a feather, wound up like a pitcher and whizzed it right by my face. It was only dumb luck that it missed me. I could feel the air around it, brushing the bridge of my nose, pushing my glasses off. They did not break, thank God, but they sure scratched something fierce.

"Far out, Dave. You almost got crushed by that bin," Pauline said. Then she laughed. That beautiful laugh, where she cocked her neck to the side and placed her hands on her developing hips.

She was wearing shorts. The way her blue painted fingernails clutched the outside of her hips made me forget all about my close encounter.

"Huh?" I said in a daze.

"Earth to Dave, you almost got wiped out by the recycling bin. That would have been most unfortunate but very ironic."

"What's so ironic about that?" I asked, bending over to pick up my glasses.

My blood turned to ice as I saw the blue bin ten feet in front of me, circling like the glass in a game of spin the bottle. It hovered and slowly moved, passing Pauline and landing on me. A black crow sat on its top and it screeched as the bin came to rest.

"You would have been crushed by a bin that delivers boxes to be crushed!" she said, laughing feverishly. I acted like I got the joke and laughed also. But the crow, it looked sinister, making me want to run, not laugh.

"Race you to the library," I said, running past Pauline. I turned my head as I whizzed past her. She was stomping her left foot.

"David Gregory, get back here this instant!” she demanded. "A race is only a race if all parties involved start at the same time."

I knew better than to stop. She began to run. She was much faster—much, much faster.

My slim lead only lasted one block. By the time I reached the library steps she was waiting, stretching her arms in a feigned yawn, which teased me because her shirt lifted revealing her slim tan tummy.

"I was expecting a tougher fight from a cheat."

"Oh, I let you win. I always let you win,” I said, panting. I sat on the bottom cement step to gather my thoughts and catch my breath. Pauline sat next to me, her blonde hair brushed oh so slightly against the skin of my cheek. A chill ran down my spine. We sat in silence and watched the crow—the same crow who had followed us there.



2.

Safely inside the library and away from the crow, we decided that we would go and read some books on magic. The time was 10:15 and the summer class was not due to start until 11:05.

"Who am I?” Pauline asked as we sat on a white foldout table. My attention was focused on a book called "Fifty easy rope tricks." I grudgingly put the book down and looked at Pauline.

Her shorts were hiked up past her navel. A brown paper bag was shaped like a bonnet, covering her hair. On her eyes she held two empty glass coca-cola bottles. Her teeth were showing with the top set purposely protruding. I laughed at the sight.

"I'm sorry Ms. Daranger, but I couldn't do my homework last night," I joked.

"And why not Mr. Gregory?" she said, rolling her tongue, imitating our eighth grade History teacher perfectly.

"My pen ran out of ink. My pencil was nowhere to be found. I thought about using crayons but I figured you wouldn't like that idea very much."

"Correct you are. Look at that, class. First time all year Mr. Gregory answered a question correctly."

The bottles bobbed up and down, she looked utterly foolish, totally ridiculous and absolutely beautiful.

There inside the cool library filled with books by authors we’d never heard of, without a care in the world, we laughed, enjoying each other’s company, delighting in the realization that there would be no more school, no more homework, and no more Ms. Daranger (at least for a few months).

We were free. Free from those chains that we felt from September till mid June. But as the Spanish librarian was quick to reminds us, we were not free to make noise inside of the library.

"You kids keep it down,” she said. Then her head disappeared behind the big book she was holding.

"Sorry Ms. Springdale,” Pauline said in between laughs. Her brown eyes suddenly grew with excitement. She turned to me. "Hey, I have an idea. Lets skip town. Lets walk down to Forrest, walk into the woods, cross the ravine and go. Anywhere but here."

I should have said yes. Every fiber in my body ached to leave this place, to go out into the next town with Pauline, to be alone with her, under the sky…to be free. But I also wanted to impress her. I wanted to show her that I could be responsible, that there was a different side to me. A side that was mature. A part of me that could hang with her creative mind, that always brought home A's, while in truth I passed eighth grade with three C -'s by the skin of my teeth.

"We can do that tomorrow, if you would like,” I told her. “Let’s see what this class has to offer. Besides, it’s windy outside. Wouldn't want you to lose that pretty bonnet."

Her eyes narrowed. Then a hint of intrigue swept through them, bringing a warm sensation to my body.

"David Gregory, my oh my how responsible you have become. Okay. Tomorrow it is." She looked at the clock that hung on top of a wall that said ‘Reading is FUN–damental.’ "There's just one more thing. Race you to the class."

I took off, certain that I could beat her there, running with all the strength that my soon–to–be–15–year–old legs could muster.

"No running in the library!" a voice shrieked.

"Sorry Ms. Springdale,” we said in unison, not slowing down at all. She beat me of course. She always did.



3.

"Writing and art go hand and hand. Some may even say that most good writing is eventually broken down into some sort of visual representation of the prose. Some great stories, such as the works of Shakespeare, became alive and acted upon the very stages that made New York City popular, while some works, such as those from Stephen King, became immortalized on the silver screen. Every movie, every play and every illustrated book, begins as just words."

I tried to listen as Mr. Ford talked. But I couldn't keep my gaze off of the back of Pauline's neck.

I imagined that I was a handsome vampire… alone with her at night.

I imagined slowly kissing it, then teasing it with my teeth, carefully, not trying to draw blood…unless she asked.

Then I would sink my teeth into the small of her neck. Right next to that tiny brown birthmark that drove me insane. Then she would be mine, mine for all eternity.

"Mr. Gregory. If you would please take your mind out of the gutter. Focus it here, the third rock from the sun, planet earth, where we are currently residing. Pay attention!"

I mumbled some half aware apology. Something that went along the lines of "Sorry, it won't happen again."

I was entranced, simply amazed by that simple little beauty mark. It hung there in solitude, imperfection that personified the simple beauty that she attained…perfect, perfect in every single way.

"Excuse me Mr. Gregory, did you say something?"

Mortal terror replaced the blood in my body. That was a different voice. The only thing that could take my attention away from Pauline's neck was the current situation.

"Well…we are waiting, um…David."

The teacher looked over notes, which undoubtedly had a seating chart.

Hell, he wouldn’t know my name if it were a play by Poe. But whatever just spoke to me did so with pure conviction, as if he had been saying my name for a long time.

"Yea Dave. Some of us are actually trying to listen. Clean the wax out of your ears."

That voice too, was different. This one came from behind me, a handsome boy with pale skin and black hair cropped over his ears, probably no older then me.

That's when the class broke out in giggles. They all did. But I didn't hear them. All I heard was one laugh. A familiar giggle, one that I heard oh so often. For it was the giggle of my muse, my crush, Pauline.

The new boy looked at her and smiled. She turned away with a grin.

What was happening? How could one go from such fixation to such humiliation in one second?

I wanted to sink my head down into my arms and cry. I wanted the very chair that I sat on to melt a hole through the ground and take me far away… any place but here.

I couldn't go anywhere, so instead I turned my head and looked out the open window, just in time to see the black crow flying away from the ledge.



4.

"What I want you all to do is channel that youthful imagination, one that states that mountains of rock can talk, just as long as there are plenty of rocks around for him to eat. The same imaginative spirit that hoped that an awkward teen boy, born with a peculiar scare, could somehow save the world from an evil wizard, more powerful then even he could imagine.

“Imagine, boys and girls. Let it guide you, and lead you to your muse. If you feel inspired to draw, then allow your partner to write. If your pen tickles your hand and your eyes widen, then beg your partner to draw. But what I want is two pages, typed, with two illustrations. And I want them by next Tuesday. So go ahead and partner up. But first, David Gregory, come hither."

"In English, teach. He might not understand you." The class again giggled.

"That's quite enough from you, Adam Fuller."

“So the beast does have a name,” I thought as I walked towards the front of the class. Ignoring every set of eyes that were grinning at me. All but one set, all but Pauline's.

"What's on your mind kiddo?” the teacher asked earnestly. He spoke with a quiet, compassionate voice—not a loud, condemning voice as I was expecting.

"Sorry Mr. Ford, you must have caught me daydreaming. It will not happen again"

But even I knew that was a lie. I watched the other kids break off into groups of two. I watched as Adam, full of confidence, approached Pauline and whispered something into her ear. I watched as that shy grin reappeared on Pauline's face. And then finally, I watched as she nodded her head yes, and Adam took a seat right next to her.

"Looks like everyone found a partner kiddo,” Mr. Ford said.

I barely heard him. The only sound that I could hear was the sound of my own heart beating.

One time when I just turned 13, I snuck into my uncle Ben’s room to watch a movie on his VCR. When I turned on the TV, I saw my first pair of tits. Then I discovered two things. One was that I discovered what a porno looked like. And two, I discovered that my erection was as big as the male performer.

I never thought that my heart would ever beat that fast again. But I was wrong. Here in the library it was beating faster and harder then I could ever imagine. Anger, confusion, disappointment—I felt it all.

Now my anger was directed towards Mr. Ford, who wished to speak with me. “Perhaps if I were already sitting beside Pauline, Adam would have passed,” I thought. Then I felt a big stab of disappointment pierce my heart, because I realized that Pauline would have picked Adam anyways.

The confusion I felt was directed at the window where the crow had returned. Why was it there? Why am I hearing the same voice that broke my concentration earlier? Oh why, oh why is that voice repeating three simple words, over and over again?

YOU WILL DRAW...



5.

"The way I see it David, you have two choices. You can either leave this class and go on home, doing whatever it is that a boy your age does during the glorious days of summer, or two, you can partner up with me. The choice is yours."

"I will draw."



6.

So that's what I did. And let me tell you I felt a rush, a surge of energy, that night, in my room, alone. Looking out the window, not focusing on anything. Detached from all sense of reality. I drew.

I started with a lake. Only, it was not a lake. In my eyes it was a door disguised as a lake. Underneath the lake I pictured a long black tar road with overgrown shrubs and thick bushes on either side. Crows nestled on each. This road was exposed to a vibrant and bright moon, only the moon was not yellow, but green.

Imagining that I was alone, walking the road. Staring up to the moon, which was halfway outside of the water. The crows were calling out to me. Beckoning me to draw.

"I am,” I said aloud to no one. Then I began to draw a large willow tree, sticking up from the water. The wood was dark and slimy. Only, in my mind it was not a tree at all, rather it was the moon, the same moon that could only be seen on that long hidden secret road, beneath the calm water, unseen by any but me.

Time flew. But mostly that was just a guess. I was not sure if time flew at all. I seemed to be in suspended animation, hovering in between then and there. Only my pencils moved.

I don’t even remember looking at which color I chose, but somehow it was always the right one. After the tree, I added a moon. After the moon, I added a small little rowboat, placed directly in front of the moon. It looked like it was floating above the water. But there also was a sharp wave on the underside of the rowboat, which proved that it indeed was on the surface.

But below the surface the boat did not look like a boat at all. Rather it looked like a nest.

A perfect nest made with strong twigs and bonded together, sturdy and secure. I wanted to reach for it, hoping to grab on and float away from the road. But that was impossible because three huge crows hovered directly beneath it. Their eyes were red and full of vigor.

"Draw me," a crow hissed, then dove straight towards me, missing me by an inch.

"No, draw me," the second said. It too swan dove. This one flew towards me with open claws, scratching my nose, lacerating my skin, drawing blood.

"No, he will draw me,” the last and mightiest of the crows squawked.

He was coming. His claws were sharp, very sharp. He was coming for me and I just knew he was aiming for my eyes. I was doomed. There was no place to run, no spot to hide. And just before he could reach me, I awoke from the trance.

Blood dripping on my desk, a big black-eyed crow stared at me, his neck crooked, his beak moving up and down. I yelped and almost fell out of my chair.

"Relax David,” the crow spoke. Only, he didn't move his mouth. No, he had another way of speaking.

"This is great, almost perfect,” the bird said as he eyed my picture. The picture looked complete. How much time had passed? I wondered. I also wondered how I drew this.

This was not just good. This drawing was immaculate, stunning even. Every detail was pristine. Every edge was acute. The water looked alive. The boat looked like it was rocking. The glare from the moon seemed as if it could light up my room. The willow was ancient, tall and gloomy. And situated at the top was a nest…a large nest.

I don't remember drawing that. But I did. It was there. It added an element to the picture, a dreary element, one that made the picture beautiful to look at, but also sent a cold chill of terror down my spine.

"Who are you and what do you want from me?” I asked the crow.

"The name's Phillip,” he replied, “and I want you to draw me."



7.

"You're the voice that spoke to me today in class?" I said. My head still felt cloudy. My arms were heavy. I felt weak, but that did little to quench the anger that was building in my gut.

"Correct, it was I. Forgive me for startling you. But it was of utmost importance that you were paying attention. I noticed you were staring at that girl and your mind was a million miles away. I had to get your attention."

"That girl? That girl?" I said with a bout of rage. "That girl's name is Pauline. She is not just any girl. She is a perfect girl, beautiful, adventurous, wild and smart. And thanks to you she now has a new partner. It’s your fault. You're the reason my partner is Mr. Ford, not Pauline."

I threw the black colored pencil at the bird. It sailed by its head and landed against my wall with a sharp ping. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled and the black sky opened up.

"I know you’re angry sir. But please refrain in your attempts to inflict harm upon me. Right now I do not see you as a threat. But if I perceive that you are becoming one, I will have no choice but to protect myself. And believe me David, you do not wish that to happen."

It was just a bird, but its words struck my heart. I recalled my daydream, how the big crow with sharp talons was oh so close to scratching out my eyes. I did not want that to happen.

"Sorry, but if you never showed up I would still be partnered with Pauline. And all would be right in the world."

The crow nodded.

"I understand David. But there is still a chance that your young love will grow. Wait until she sees what you drew." He pecked at the paper, and once again I was in awe of its beauty. It was good … too good.

"Now finish it,” the bird demanded.

The thought of drawing again made me shudder. What if I again went to that road? What if only this time I did not wake up? What if that crow caught me? Tearing out my eyes, like a frustrated writer tearing out a page from his notebook.

"I am tired," I said.

"I am Phillip, and you will draw!"

The body of the bird, it began as a crooked half circle. Then I drew the legs. Two short matchsticks. Three sharp indentures at the foot. Only, the feet did not look like crows feet at all. No, they looked like the tree. Obviously I meant to do that.

The eyes were red, not because of the way I colored them, but because they were transparent and the moon hitting the water gave off a fluorescent glow. Faint auburn that became redder with each glance.

It was weird seeing those damned stringy toes from beneath the surface. The bottom of each foot had two small black circles in the middle. I could see them easily, because the feet became a distraction from the eyes of the crow.

"That's right, that's right. Bear witness, for the human draws me."

Two crows kept circling me, but from a safe distance. I could tell they were mad, pissed off as Phillip boasted.

One of the crows came. It squawked into the air. Spread his wings. The sound was like Velcro coming undone. The wind of his wings rustled my hair. It was impressive. But Phillip was bigger.

“Draw me," he said. He aimed and missed.

Phillip laughed. "He is drawing me first."

I stared into the water. The moon was at a perfect position. The glow was strong enough that I could see my reflection. Only, I did not see my reflection at all. Instead I saw the reflection of Adam Fuller.

Then it was over. I sat in the safety of my own room. The picture in front of me was complete. I knew this because Phillip was no longer in my room.

The crow on the paper was also great. Only, it had no beautiful features. It was only terrifying. Its black head seemed to jump out of the picture. His mouth was open. Its head was pointed to the left. His chest swelled from breathing. The eyes were red, oh so red.

And then I went to sleep.



8.

The morning came, the night followed. Wednesday was boring, Thursday the same. Friday was intense but Friday night was insane.

By Friday morning the town was in an uproar. Adam Fuller disappeared on Wednesday morning the day after I drew the first picture.

Normalcy returned to my life as Pauline once again talked to me. In fact she became my partner. She kept asking me if I’d started to draw anything yet. I told her I had. She wanted to see. I said no.

I'm not sure why I said no. Maybe a part of me believed that if she saw the picture then she would know that it was my fault that Adam had disappeared.

I also thought that if she saw it she might become very impressed.

So after two days of her reassuring me that she would not laugh at it, I decided that I would let her see. To let her look at the picture I simply named "Phillip."

"You did not draw this!" was all she could say after staring at the picture for the better part of five minutes. Sometimes she would use her finger and touch the page. A simple gesture to make sure what she was looking at was real. I don't blame her. Hell, I couldn't even believe that it was, myself.

"Whatcha think?"

"It is brilliant David,” she said in an ominous tone. "The colors, wow look at the colors! They are so bright, yet dark and gloomy. The moon. The tree. The nest! The bird!"

"So you think it's good enough to turn in on Tuesday?" I asked, watching her as she stared at the picture. So entranced. She looked so alive and for the first time since Adam went missing, she looked excited.

"Good enough to turn in?" She stared at me. "It’s beautiful David. I have never seen anything like this before. How did you do this?"

I wanted to tell her about the crow. I should have but I was afraid. I should have gave her a warning. Instead I said a half-truth. "I wanted to impress you Pauline."

"David Gregory you have succeeded." She stared at me, her brown eyes alive with passion. The fan in my room made her hair sweep oh so gently across my arm. I shuddered and my skin broke out with goosebumps. "This is not meant for a stupid summer class David. This is meant for a museum, for a gallery."

"Yea it's ok, I guess,” I said, feeling flushed, happy yet also somewhat guilty. I tried to downplay the drawing and what I seen that night. Tried to convince myself that I had nothing to do with the disappearance of Adam. But every time I looked at that picture, I was reminded that while I drew, I was Adam.

"Something a matter?" Her voice was full of curiosity and her eyes alive with intrigue.

"No everything is alright. It’s just that … it's just that, I never seen you look so beautiful before." I took a deep breath, surprised by my sudden burst of bravery.

Pauline giggled, and that nervous smile appeared on her face.

"I'm sorry,” I said. “I shouldn't have—"

She interrupted me mid-sentence. "Well are you going to stand there with that dumb look on your face? Or are you going to kiss me?"

Now that was a question that I knew the answer to. I brushed my lips against her cheek. Her skin smelled like a cool mint. I reached and found the small of her back. My fingers lingered there like the smell of rain on an April morning.

She nudged her head and whispered into my ear. "Not like that."

The hairs on my neck stood at attention. My blood raced throughout my body. My head felt hot. My hands felt cool. Her body pressed oh so gently against mine. Our lips touched. Slowly. Her mouth was moist. I pressed mine a little harder. She answered with equal vigor. Our tongues slowly touched. Dancing with rhythm. Her mouth tasted like vanilla, her tongue was smooth and delicate. My insides were on fire. My penis throbbed. She let out a small gasp when she felt it. But she did not turn away.

Perhaps if I kissed her neck, maybe this would go even further. But right on cue, as if she could read my mind she stopped kissing me and said, "That's enough—For now. Draw another picture as good as this and maybe next time I won't stop you."

The wind was knocked outside of my stomach. Dreadful fear pulsated throughout my body. I did not want to draw ever again in my life, afraid of what may happen next. But that was not all that scared me. Behind Pauline, outside of my window, was another crow. The one who tried to scratch out my eyes!



9.

It was 7 pm when Pauline left. We did not kiss again. Instead she talked about what she would be writing. I tried to pay attention, but it was hard. I could feel the razor sharp eyes piercing my soul from the window. I haven't heard him speak to me…at least not yet.

I knew that would change. I told myself I wouldn't draw again. If he wanted to rip out my eyes then let him. I could not chance it. I did not want to be responsible for whatever happened when I grabbed my pencils.

Deep down I knew it was not true. I needed to draw, because I needed Pauline. I needed her touch. I needed her lips. I needed her approval. The kiss had been like a drug. Making me forget about the guilt. Taking me to a place sort of like the daydream. Only, this place was pleasant, pure and calming. I wanted that again. I needed that again. Therefore I needed to draw. Only, this time I wouldn't allow myself to be swept up in daydreams. This time I will stay aware and sharp. I could do this, and I would, simply because I needed to.



10.

Friday night is a night I will always remember. It will forever be engrained in my psyche. After Pauline went home, I decided I would walk down to the lake. I brought my pad and pencils, with no plans to draw. But I wanted to get out of the house. It was a hot night. I remember that. I can still feel the way that the air stuck to my skin. Damp and heavy, like a freshly washed blanket that was not yet dry.

The moon was bright and full. Probably looked like the moon did the first time someone ever said that a man lived there. Swarms of gnats danced on top of the shimmering water. June bugs and beetles flew throughout the air. There was not a cloud in the sky and somewhere in the distance an owl hooted. It was a perfect night.

I sat on the bank, skipping stones and heaving rocks onto the waters surface. I was alive. Thoughts of Pauline's tongue haunted me. Her smell lingered in my nose. Her touch still teased my skin.

A sudden burst of inspiration hit me with the force of a boulder. I started to draw. This time I did not hear a bird beckoning me to move my pencil. I was not transported to some scary dreadful place in my mind. No, it was just me, and the pad and pencils.

I started with her hair—that perfect bounce. Then I added the eyes. They smiled at me. Her nose inhaled my scent. Her lips puckered as if she were blowing me a kiss. Her neck was exposed, only her pigtails offered cover. Her shoulders shimmered. The rosy pink color of her skin came with peach and white colored pencils.

The arms were bent at the elbow, her hands teasing her hips. Her fingers spread open. Her thighs were curvy yet slim, and her legs were long and perfect. Her developing breasts were full at the top then slimmed down at the bottom. Her pink nipples were hard, her navel flawless, and her collarbones, her perfect collarbones dared me to kiss them. She wore no clothes. Except for a single green leaf that covered her most private of areas.

As I drew, my penis grew, as did my lust and desire for her. My fingers acted without any prompt from my brain. They moved with a mind of their own. Every curve was acute. Every indentation was accurate, every inch alive and lifelike. It was beautiful, serene and realistic.

There was no doubt in my mind that indeed this was what Pauline looked like in the nude. That if I was lucky enough to be with her at her most intimate of moments, this is what I would see. This is what I would feel. This is what I would taste.

No one was around. I placed the drawing directly in front of my face. My hand gripped my penis. I tugged slowly as I imagined her warm skin against mine. Her body seemed to dance. Her lips softly said my name. My hand moved faster. Beads of sweat dripped down my forehead. I focused on her neck, then my eyes slowly made their way down to her breast. I was hard, harder then I have ever been in my whole life.

Faster I tugged, letting out silent moans into the night sky. The paper clutched tightly. I moved my hips as I imagined kissing her stomach, sliding my tongue across the edges of her hips. Reaching my fingers beneath the leaf. Feeling the warm, moist juices inside of her. I felt it. It was coming. I tugged faster and faster. My head was spinning. I breathed deeply and exhaled a loud groan. My penis throbbed as I exploded all over the ground.

I let out a whimper and almost fell back when suddenly a strong tug gripped at the paper.

The force was too strong for me to fight. In an instant the drawing was no longer in my hands. No, it was nestled into the strong beak of the demented crow.

"Draw me,” it shouted, reverberating throughout the warm summer air. A flock of crows passed overhead and just like that, the crow joined them. I was alone. In terror I watched as the bird took off.

I followed. I wanted that drawing. I needed it. I gave chase as the bird led me up a short hill. I almost tripped on an exposed root. It flew over a bush, and sailed to the left into a thick path of shrubs. I ran after it screaming, "I'll draw you. Just give me back the picture."

The bird squawked and slowed down. It hovered now on top of a single bush.

"Draw me,” it said again with force. This time it knocked me to my knees. I put my hands over my ears. But still I could hear its demands. Then the crow dropped the drawing and disappeared into the night sky.

I watched to see where the paper dropped. And when I was sure the bird was gone, I got to my feet and dusted the dirt off my jeans. I approached where the drawing had fallen and quickly fell back to the cold ground. There was the paper, lying on the cold lifeless chest of Adam Fuller. His eyes were gone and the words "draw me" were etched on his forehead.



11.

I was awoken at 10:00 the following morning. A small rap came on my window. For a second I expected to see the crow. Instead I saw Pauline.

"Wake up sleepy head,” she said as I opened the window. I could smell bacon coming from the kitchen. My mother was cooking breakfast.

"I am awake,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. I could not shake the image of Adam's dead body from my psyche. Although seeing Pauline first thing in the morning helped.

"Get dressed,” she said. “I wanna show you something."

"Do I have time for breakfast?" I asked.

Pauline smiled and showed a brown picnic basket. "I already have that covered. Now come on hurry. Oh and wash your face. What is that, dirt?"

She licked her finger and gently rubbed it across my cheek. Her finger lingered. Neither of us moved. It felt warm and soothing. After a moment I smiled and said, "Give me four minutes."

She nodded and disappeared to the front of the house. I watched as she walked. Her hips moved perfectly. When she was gone. I raced to the bathroom.

My face was smudged with dirt. And my arms had fresh cuts, undoubtedly from falling in the thistles.

"At least I have the drawing,” I said into the mirror. I washed my face and hands, brushed my teeth, threw on Old Spice deodorant, and headed out into the day with Pauline by my side, hoping that she would be able to take my mind off of what I discovered last night.

We sat by the old firehouse on Washington Road. Pauline had also brought a beige blanket. She had made peanut butter and fluff sandwiches.

As I ate, she began to explain to me what she had begun to write. "I have to make sure the writing’s good, Dave. Actually, it has to be better than good. It has to be perfect. I want it to at least be on par with what you drew."

"I'm sure it will be perfect,” I said as I shoved the last bit of sandwich into my mouth.

Pauline giggled and pointed to my nose. "Looks like your nose was hungry too."

I smiled and wiped off the bit of peanut butter from the bridge of my nose. "I am starving. I feel like I haven't ate in weeks."

"Here have mine.” She handed me her sandwich. She had only taken two bites. "Momma wouldn't let me leave the house without eating breakfast. So I’m not hungry."

I smiled and grabbed her sandwich.

"Any idea what you're going to draw for the second page?" she said.

I wanted to say yeah, I’m going to draw nothing. But I saw the excitement in her eyes. She was thrilled with our project. "I'm not sure yet. I won't know until I start drawing."

"Oh so you're a real artist then huh? Ok that's fine. Just do me a favor, add that bird into it. I have an idea for a story. And the crow is my inspiration."

The word crow made me shudder. But on the outside I smiled and nodded my head. Taking bites out of the delicious sandwich.

"The first picture you drew is beautiful,” she said, “but it's also kind of scary."

More than you could ever know, I thought.

"So I wanted to write something scary. I had this idea. I know it is pretty random. But you know me. I love to think outside the box. So I wrote something scary. Do you want me to read it to you?"

She looked so nervous, and also excited. I could only smile and say, "Read on, gorgeous."

She giggled and produced a piece of paper. "Now, this is only the first draft. So if it sucks tell me and I will rewrite it. But I like it a lot. I hope you will too.”

The sun was high and birds flew overhead. I looked. There were no crows, just normal blue jays and robins, the kind that made me feel at peace. There was a slight breeze that made the morning feel more comfortable than hot. I could see the lake across the street. I knew Adam was there, but there was nothing I could do now. I couldn't tell anyone. I wanted to tell Pauline, but I couldn't. What if someone found out that it was my drawing that had killed the boy? Of course it was my drawing. There could be no denying that now, not after last night. The bird purposely dropped my drawing of Pauline on Adam. He wanted me to see it.

Pauline began to read. "I found a door, it was under the lake. I found it by accident. When I opened the door I discovered a long road. The road was dark and mysterious. There were bushes on both sides. The moon sort of shimmered through the water, and I could see around me but not far ahead or behind. I thought about closing the door, but curiosity pushed me through. It was as if the road was calling to me. Each step that I took, I become more and more aware that something or someone was watching me. I turned to look behind me, but I could no longer see the door. It was dark, too dark."

I felt dizzy. Surely this was not what Pauline had written. This is just some cruel joke. But this was not a joke,ot merely some daydream that I had slipped into. Pauline's voice proved that it was not. And if that were not enough, the crows circling overhead, three of them. Two looked familiar, the other did not. They too proved that this was real.

I did not need to hear what Pauline was saying. I simply knew. I could mouth the words along with her if I wanted to. But I did not.

She continued, “The crow with red demon eyes, and claws as long as hell is hot, dove towards me. ‘Draw me,’ it shouted. Why did I find this door? Why was I foolish enough to walk through it? I wanted to turn back, but I knew that was impossible. I had to walk, forward and straight. The bird missed me, but I could tell he missed on purpose. It was circling again, screeching in his demented voice, preparing itself to come at me again. This time it was coming for my eyes. This time he wouldn't miss. I am sure of it. Here it comes. I can feel the wind beating against my face. I can feel it's hot breath, its eyes burning a hole through my soul. It was coming and there was nothing that I could do to stop it."

She then carefully folded the paper and placed it into her pants pocket. She just stood there with an inquisitive look on her face, and then she said, "So what do you think?"

I wanted to tell her what happened when I was drawing. Tell her everything. I wanted to grab her by her hand and drag her to the spot near the lake where Adam now lay, silent and sullen. But she wanted reassurance that what she had written was good.

"Look out!" I said madly. I hurried to my feet and pushed her aside. The crow just missed her beautiful face.

"Draw me.” I heard it and for a second and I was sure that she heard it too.

But instead she just laughed. "Wow, what a coincidence. That bird must have heard my story. Come on David. Tell me. The suspense is killing me. Is it good? Should I start over?"

Her big brown eyes searched my face. I wonder if she noticed how wide my eyes were, I wondered if she could hear my heart as it raced inside of my chest.

"Its perfect,” I finally said, after a minute or two.

"David Gregory. Do not lie to me,” she demanded with her arms crossed in front of her stomach.

"I am not lying! It's great Pauline."

"Well is it scary?" She smiled.

"It scared the piss out of me."

Her face lit up with excitement. I could tell that she believed me. She must have seen how spooked I was.

"Want to go to the arcade?” I asked. “I have a couple dollars worth of quarters. I'll give you some."

She giggled as she pulled out what seemed like 100 quarters from a small plastic bag inside of the basket.

"Whoa, where did you get that kind of dough?" I asked excited. Staring at that sea of change made me forget everything. Truth was, I needed a distraction. I needed something to get my mind off of everything. So we went to the arcade, we had fun, we even hugged and kissed each other’s cheeks a few times. It was grand, it was splendid, it was completely awesome. Except for one thing. One thought haunted me, even as I played. Why had Pauline written my thoughts? Was she involved? Were the birds talking to her too? And one thought, more powerful and ominous then the rest, kept coming to mind. Was Pauline in danger?



12.

The body of Adam Fuller was discovered on Sunday. The police found him. There was no mention of the words 'draw me' scratched into his forehead, but word quickly spread that his eyes were gouged out. No one suspected a thing. No one knew that it was my drawing that caused him to die. Word around town was that he got into a fight with his parents the night that he disappeared. So folks were saying that he killed himself. They blamed a bird of some sort for his missing eyes. At least they got that part right. Tomorrow is Monday. Tomorrow I must draw. Oh God please help me, oh God please protect Pauline.




....

When night fell on Monday I tried to hide. I made sure that my window was closed and locked. I kept the lights out in my room, except for a small flashlight that I hid with me under the blanket.

I felt sort of foolish as I covered my head beneath my blue Dallas Cowboys blanket, but only for a moment. It was better to hide than feel like a child.

At around 9:00 pm, the voice of the bird—not Phillip—began to haunt me. It squawked the usual "draw me," and I ignored it the best that I could. I stuck my nose into a Batman comic book, and that worked for a while.

Soon the chanting became more frequent, and more intense. Threats were now being spoken. "Draw me, or the cops will find out that it was your fault Adam died."

"Leave me alone,” I said. This brought a chorus of laughter.

"Draw me or everyone will know that you killed Adam,” the bird repeated itself.

"I didn't kill him."

"But you did, you did. And they will all die, if you don't draw me—your mother, your father, all of your classmates…Pauline."

"Don't you lay a fucking finger on her,” I screamed.

Again the bird cackled, "Draw me." This was followed by a sharp knock on my window.

I gasped. "Leave me alone, I’m not drawing you! I'm never drawing again."

"Dave, are you ok?"

I could hear the faint, lovely voice of Pauline outside of my window.

I did not want to leave the protection of my blanket. I knew that as soon as I poked my head out, Pauline would not be there. No, instead I would see the crow, maybe all three of them, there, staring at me with red eyes, their mouths wide open, tongues wagging like an excited dog’s tail.

"What are you doing under your blanket?" the voice of Pauline asked, which was followed by her charming giggle. Slowly I pulled my head out from the blanket. I couldn’t see nothing in the dark. I pointed the flashlight ahead towards the window, my heart pounding, my palms sweating. My head was hot. My stomach hurt. The room felt cramped, I felt exposed. I squinted as the window came into view, ready to scream, ready to hide again, ready to cry. But there she was, my Pauline, smiling and waving at me.

I kicked the remainder of the blankets off of me, turned on the lamp on my desk and waltzed to the window. I unlocked the latch and lifted it.

"What are you doing here? It’s late. Shouldn't you be home writing?" I asked as she reached through and hugged me. I hugged back, holding her tight.

"Your heart’s beating fast, Dave. Is everything ok."

"Yes,” I lied. "I was just really into this comic and your knock kind of spooked me is all."

"Well put the comic down. You have to draw tonight. I just finished my second page. See." She held up a piece of white loose-leaf paper and giggled. "This is the scariest thing I've ever written, ever."

She was so excited. I was feeling dizzy.

"What is it about?"

"Oh you will find out tomorrow. Look I can't stay long. Momma will have a cow if she knew I was out at this time. I just wanted to tell you that no matter what you draw, I will love it. And I really like you Dave."

Just when I thought that I would never smile again in my life, my queer grin resurfaced.

"I really like you too Pauline."

"No I mean I really like you." She grabbed my hand and slowly dragged the tips of my fingers on her neck. Her skin felt like velvet. She guided my fingers lower, down her collarbones into the skin of her chest. "I really like you a lot, a lot.” She let out a soft moan as my fingers felt the fullness of her breast. My palms slipped across the front of her chest. Her nipple was hard, and so was my cock. "Now draw David, no pressure. Just remember, if this drawing is as good as the first one, then tomorrow ... well, tomorrow we will celebrate our accomplishment…in a special way."

"We will?” I asked in a daze.

"Yes, we will David, because I like you. Don't you want me, David? I want you, I want you bad."

"Yes” was all I could say.

"Good, so what are you going to do now?” she asked.

"I will draw."

"That's a good boy."

And with that she turned and headed towards her house, disappearing into the darkness. I watched her, faintly making out her vague outline.

"I will draw,” I said again out into the cool night air.

"You're damned right you will,” the crow said, as it flew through my window and landed on my bed, staring at me. "Draw me."



14.

At the end of the long dark road was a house. The house was huge, with five floors. There was a steel fence in front of the building and the gate was propped open. I am drawing the same house. That's how I started this picture.

I walked through the gate, and it closed behind me. The front door was open. I could not see into the house, it was dark. Everything was oh so dark here.

"Good, good,” the demented bird shrieked with near climax. The house was complete. The roof protruded out from the water. Nestled on the point, of course, was a nest.

I walked into the house. It was cool and dry. Something familiar lingered in the air. I knew that smell but I could not readily identify it.

After the house was complete, my fingers, with a mind of their own began to draw orange flames. They were shooting out from a window, the smoke rising up towards the water’s surface.

Inside the house I saw a mirror and was greatly relieved to find that I was indeed myself. But what if I died? What if whatever happened to Adam happens to me?

That's when I realized what the familiar smell was. It was smoke. Boom, a loud crash broke my concentration. A burning piece of lumber fell two feet behind me. It looked orange as the embers entwined inside made it illuminate. Smoke was rapidly filling the room. Another loud crash! A piece of the roof fell. I had to jump to get out of the way. Tumbling on the floor, I realized I had to get out. I had to escape this burning house or meet my fate.

Next to the house, I drew an old swing set. Two rusty swings were in mid-stride. One seat was empty, and an invisible force caused the swing to move. The second swing was not.

"Draw me there.” The bird pecked at the empty swing set. My fingers obeyed. The bird was shrieking in joy as it began to see its form on the empty swing, the swing that was next to the seat filled by a slim girl with blonde pigtails.

I jumped to my feet. The smoke was thick now, burning my nose. My throat felt tight. Coughing I turned to go out the way I came. I passed a set of stairs.

"Help me,” a voice cried out. My heart stopped. I would know that voice anywhere, Pauline's voice!



15.

"Leave her alone.” I threw the pad, snapping the pencil in half with my fingers and thumb.

"Draw me Now!!!" the bird bellowed, its eyes full of Hell’s fury. Without warning, it soared through the air, like a perfectly thrown ball. Its claws dug into the nape of my neck.

"Let me go,” I yelled. It responded by digging his talons in deeper. Blood began to drip all over my white shirt.

"You will draw me or I will kill you."

Reaching with all the strength my hands could muster (which was pretty impressive I may add), I placed my hands on the bird’s belly and back and lifted. It would not budge.

He responded by throwing his claws in deeper.

"Draw me or I'll fucking kill you, I'll destroy you, I'll rip your neck out and piss in your blood stream."

It was getting pretty serious. I could not lift him. And my neck was beginning to feel like a fire.

The room was filled with flames. Everywhere was totally covered. Except for the stairs. Except for the landing. Pauline was calling, "Help me David."

I heard her from within the picture. I heard her inside my room.

"Let go, let go. I'll draw.”

I wanted to return to that dream. I needed to get to Pauline before the flames did.

"You will draw what, you punk?" it demanded. Its claws added more pressure to emphasize the question.

"I will draw you,” I said as I ran up the stairs.

The crow released its hold, its claws dyed with my blood, circled my bed where the pad lay, and finally took rest on my desk. Lowering his head, yet keeping his eyes on me, he began to lick his talons clean.

My hand grabbed the pencil.

The second floor was a maze of fire, empty desks and rats. They were crawling by my feet—swarms of them.

"I'm coming Pauline," I yelled.

"Hurry David, it's dark. It's hot."

I found the second landing’s staircase.

The bird sat on the swing. Its eyes and head looked at the girl beside him. You could still see his eyes, even though his head was turned.

My leg crashed through the floor. The third floor was filled with smoke. I couldn't see any fire but I knew it was coming. Quick.

"You want to help her? Draw faster, draw faster."

A single black rose stood at the corner of the rusted fence. It was holding an umbrella.

I reached the fifth floor. The room was dark…really dark.

I screamed for her. "Pauline!"

There was no immediate response. What if I was too late? What if the fire got her? I imagined her beautiful skin engulfed with flames, her neck getting burnt, her joyous eyes being burnt out of her beautiful face.

Next to the swing set was a blue slide, a nest sitting on the top.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, her lovely voice broke the darkness. "I'm in here David.”

A small brown door, a yellow handle. I found the door. "Pauline are you in here?"

"Yes I am,” the bird said from within the room.

I opened the door. There was the large glass window that I had added to the house to finish the drawing.

"Oh, you saved me David!" the crow laughed as he sat in front of the window.

I walked up, feeling dizzy. I looked out of the window and my heart sank. Sitting on the swing was Pauline, staring up at me, her brown eyes wide and full of terror.

"What have you done?"

There I was in my room. The bird was gone. The picture sat on my bed. I studied it.

If the first picture was beautiful, then this picture was immaculate. The swing, the house, the flower, the slide, the huge glass window, it all meshed and formed perfectly.

At the top, written by the smoke clouds was the word "Benjamin."

"I'll kill you Benjamin, if you touch her. If you lay one finger on her I will kill you."

I kicked the wall in anger, feeling totally dejected and utterly hopeless.

"Oh God what have I done?"



16.

Walking into the small classroom in the library, I felt dizzy. Pauline did not meet me by the large tree on Potters Pike like she always had. She was not in the class. There were two empty chairs. Two empty seats. Pauline was absent, as was Adam.

I took my seat and took out the two pieces of paper. Nervously handling them, I made up my mind. As soon as Mr. Ford was seated I would simply walk up, hand him the pages and go to the bathroom. I had no idea what I would use, although I was sure that if I swallowed enough hand soap I would die. Either way I was done, sick of life. I knew Pauline was dead. I just knew it.

"David Gregory."

I solemnly walked up to the desk, handed him the papers and turned to leave.

"Pauline told me that I would be very impressed by these,” he said as he began to unfold the paper.

"You spoke to Pauline?"

Mr. Ford did not answer right away. I could see it on his face. He was simply engulfed by the pictures.

"Yes, she came in about an hour ago, she handed me her writing. She didn't feel well and left. Her story was amazing. But these pictures, these are something else."

I did not care. He could keep those pictures. I ran out towards the door. Happy. Excited. Pauline was alive. Sure, she was sick but she was fine. She would be ok.

I ran through the lobby, ignoring the librarian’s loud calls to stop running. I wouldn't stop. I would never stop, not until I got to Pauline's house, touched her face and knew she was alive. Then I would stop running, only then.

I ran past a barking dog, I ran past an open fire hydrant. Kids were gathered splashing each other. The water felt great. My legs kept pumping full speed as fast as I could. I ran past a long white fence, took a right at sunshine market, a left at summer street, straight for .5 miles then finally a left onto Macy Ave.

My legs were heavy, my chest was heaving. I felt tired, I felt dizzy. I felt hot. But I had made it. I paused a second and waited until I could breathe normal again. Then I opened her brown wood fence and hurried up her three cement steps.

Her door was blue, with a gold knocker. I grabbed it and knocked three times. Knock, knock, knock.

After what seemed like a lifetime the door finally opened.

Pauline's mother, Angeline opened the door with a towel on her head. She wore a red robe. "I'm sorry David, but Pauline does not feel well.”

"I have to see her,” I said franticly in between big breaths.

"Come back tomorrow." She went to close the door when I heard Pauline's voice coming from within the living room.

"Who’s at the door, Mom?"

"Pauline!" I shouted.

"David is that you?"

"Its me, its me!”

She walked towards me. She looked great, as always. Her hair was not in her usual pigtails. It hung lazily over her shoulders and it looked excellent.

"I finished the drawings,” I said, fighting back tears.

"I'm sure it's wonderful. I’m sorry that we can't celebrate. Maybe tomorrow if I feel better." She winked.

"Come on hunny, back to the couch with you,” Angeline said, eying me with contempt.

"Its ok. Go, I'll see you tomorrow. I'm so glad that you're okay." This time I didn't bother fighting back the tears. My voice cracked when I said ‘tomorrow.’ Inside I was so joyous, there would be a tomorrow.

"Of course I am okay, silly. Why wouldn't I be?" She bent forward to catch my tear. But she must have reached to far. She stumbled over. I caught her in my arms. Laughing.

"Watch it young lady, don't go falling on me.” I stared at her brown eyes. They did not stare back. They looked somewhere else, somewhere far away, somewhere in the clouds. A small stream of blood trickled down her lips onto the ground. They met my tears.

Pauline died. There in my arms, she took her last breath. She was gone.

Her mother screamed like a wolf into the air. I held her tightly refusing to let go. A crow flew overhead.



17.

No I did not kill myself. I did cry for a long time.

I always remember her. Even today at age 25, I can tell you what she smelled like—a mix of limes, vanilla and a small hint of mint. I can even picture how she walked, with her head held high, without a care in the world. Sometimes when I sleep, I hear her giggle. It makes me happy. It keeps me going.

Mr. Ford sold my pictures to one Albert Author Crow, a wealthy oil salesman who purchased the two sketches for 125,000 big ones.

I never saw a penny of that. Three days after I turned in the sketches, I received a call from Mr. Ford. He asked me to set up a meeting with the local news. They wanted to interview me. I declined. Instead I went to Pauline's funeral.

It was there that I first met Vernon. He said that he would return. That he would make this right.

He too was a crow. In fact he was always there, the third unseen crow who merely flew with Phillip and Benjamin.

He left me that day with promises to return and make my life whole again. I listened.

After the funeral I received another call from Mr. Ford.

There, he informed me that another news team wished to speak with me. It was urgent, and about my two "works of exquisite art."

I again said no. This time he said that he felt that it was in my best interest. I hung up.

I did not want to go to the news, because as Vernon warned, I could never draw again. The news would try to make me draw. I never wanted to draw again.

Mr. Ford tried again and again, but I always refused. Finally one day he called me and said that he would sell the pictures.

"Who are you selling them to?” I asked.

"Albert Author Crow,” he said.

"Where does he live?"

"Florida."

"Good. Get them far away from me.” I hung up on Mr. Ford for the last time. He never again tried to contact me.

My family and I moved to Minnesota in ‘98. I returned here in 2009 as a young 26-year-old.

Why did I choose to come back here, a place full of so much hurt and darkness?

Well, that's simple really. I felt the wind again, that special wind, the kind that I only felt once, that June day 12 years ago when the first crow, Phillip arrived.



18.

This time the recycle bin hit me…right on my ass.

"Far out Dave, the bin crushed you," Pauline's voice called to me as I dropped off my black bag in the garbage bin.

I laughed. Vernon landed on the lid of the garbage bin.

"You look good, and from what I can gather you have not aged a bit." He laughed as he curiously eyed me.

"Well you got fat,” I retorted.

He nodded his head and laughed. "You have followed my one rule, right Dave?”

"The only drawing I've done was with my gun. I can draw that and shoot fast."

"Good. Then we can proceed. Are you ready to go?"

I smiled. "Where are we going?"

I laughed as I asked. I knew what he would say. Pauline told me. She tells me every night. She giggles, and teases me to the point of madness when she says, "Time for us to celebrate. Proper this time."

Then Vernon said what I have heard him say in my dreams ever since I was 15 years old.

"We are going to set things right, my good friend. Of course."

That sentence soaked in. It was like Billy Joel to my ears, such a sweet, sweet lyric.

"Now that's a reason to draw,” I said calmly.



If you looked out your window on Sunny Drive that night, this is what your silent, wide eyes would see: A 26-year-old man who was in a bit of a laughing fit, carrying on and talking to himself like a fifteen-year-old boy.

Then you would see him running with each hand full. In his left arm, he would be holding a black pad, with a box of colored pencils.

In his right hand you would see a shovel dragging on the ground.

Then you would see nothing, as he disappeared over the dark hill that leads to the cemetery, three crows circling—one right by his side.

The other two slipped in…under the cover of night.



The end.