The Beginning and the End

Ink

My parents always used to tell me that when I was younger I constantly talked about my imaginary friends. They said that I would always draw them... but the thing was...

They weren't imaginary.

I'd always had a skill for art. It became as easy at breathing for me. As easy as living. My parents were enthusiastic, I was too. Drawing was my escape, in more ways than one.

As I grew, so did my art skills. I went from scribbles to actual figures. Soon enough, I was shading and making realistic looking pictures. My parents got me art supplies so that I could color well too. My favorite things to draw were monsters, creatures of the night.

By age ten I was carrying my sketchbook around with me everywhere. A pencil too. I was very anti-social, and had practically no friends. A perfect bullying target.

At age eleven I was being seriously bullied, but nobody believed me when I told them. My only friends were my sketches. Even if they didn't "come to life" anymore.

One day I was walking home from school. Age eleven, no friends, and bullied... but I was strangely happy. I found enough comfort in my sketches that I stayed in a good state of mind. As I walked past an alleyway I was suddenly yanked in.

"Be quiet and we might not kill you," Whispered a young sounding male's voice into my ear. It sounded strangely like... Luke! He had been my main bully for years.

I looked around, his crew was here too. They began ripping pages from my sketchbook. I remember squirming, screaming... a sharp kick as I was through in the brick wall of the alleyway.

"No! Please!" I screamed, but now they had moved onto me. I could feel the blood leaving my body was they kicked and punched me. All I felt was pain.

"I told you to shut up, you stupid ra-" Suddenly he was cut off. A low growling sound filled the air. I managed to peek open my swollen eyes. The alleyway had filled with many colors of ink. A rainbow, and from it? Creatures were rising from the ripped pages of my sketchbook, the pages mending together as well.

"W-What," I slurred, "is happening?" The horrifying creatures I had created were becoming real.

Creatures so nightmarish they could be labeled demons. Things even monsters were afraid of. One, a tall black creature with huge lidless eyes and gangly limbs, grabbed Luke and growled.

A row of sharp, bloodied teeth appeared as the thing, dripping with ink, yawned it's mouth wide open. I had never created a mouth on it... One minute, Luke was screaming and struggling. The next minute, he was down the monster's throat. For a moment, I wondered where he went. How it felt to be eaten.

More monsters, each worse than the last, appeared. In minutes, Luke's crew was gone. In seconds, the creatures were back on their pages. I began giggling, then laughing. A dark humor, evil, leaving my lips. I was finally free.

I remember before the first lidless creatures, something I would come to call Inky, disappeared, he smiled. In all his creepy glory, Inky bared his bloodied teeth in a smile. It felt strangely comforting. Even to this day, I wonder if that's why my sketchbook always gave off a shadowy aura of comfort.

Nobody ever saw Luke or his crew again, but I know one thing. When I checked my sketchbook again... perfectly drawn pictures of Luke and his friends had appeared.