I was with my boyfriend, Harold, when we were walking in the park. It was nine in the evening and the stores haven't closed yet, so we still continued our date. It was a lovely night, until Harold excused himself to the restroom. It has been thirty minutes and he hasn't come out yet, so I decided to leave our dinner table and went in front of the men's restroom. The restrooms here in the coffee shop only allowed one person per room, so we have to wait for the others to come out. But this isn't the Women's restroom, so obeying the rules in the shop, I kept on waiting. And waiting. Until I snapped and knocked on the door, "Babe, you there?" I asked, but the silence replied to me, which made me wonder why. I eyed my surroundings cautiously before I grabbed the doorknob and turn it, but it was locked. "Babe, Harold...?" I knocked few more times but there was still silence, and the suspense was killing me. I don't want to favor one of the waiters of the shop to open the door to the men's restroom, I mean, seriously? A female wanting to go to the men's restroom?
I knocked a little louder but was stopped when I heard a female, chuckling behind the door. Thinking that there was someone with my boyfriend, I knocked even louder and the chuckling stopped, which I stopped, too. "H-Harold...??" I stuttered and cold sweat was slowly making its way down at the right side of my face. I backed away from the door, gulping. I waited for something. Yes, something. I cannot explain what or why I am waiting for something....something to open the door. I was about to grab for the doorknob again when I felt a hand on my shoulder, making me yelp in surprise. But what surprised me more is that Harold was beside me, with a worried and confused expression on his face, "Layka, where have you been? You weren't by the tableand I was starting to be worried about you. Come on, let's leave the place. I'm done, by the way." he said, then gently held my hand which made me smile and look up to him, "Okay. U-uhm, I was wondering...what took you so long in the restroom, anyway?" I asked. He didn't turn his head to me, so he kept on walking, and then we finally left the coffee shop. "I was talking to my mom by phone." He replied, but I furrowed after I heard his answer, "Your mother? I thought she already died last five years ago?" he seemed to stiffen at my question because I felt his hand squeeze a bit to mine. "I was talking about my step-mother." He cleared, and I have no idea where he was taking me, but I still fired him the same subject, "You never told me you have one." this time, he did not answer me. Instead, he turned around to look at me and said, "Stay here, my phone's vibrating again." then he walked off, disappearing through the dark.
That's when it hit me.
I was left alone, under the bright moonlight illuminating, which made me notice the clear and glimmering waters of the river at the side of me. I turned to see the river fully, and it was indeed breathtakingly beautiful and peaceful. But the peacefulness made me shiver with no reason, and made me look around, eyeing every area, as if someone is going to tackle me or kill me. I turned back to the river and saw a gray-ish brown sketch pad with a mechanical pencil beside of it, lying on the grass before the river. I cocked an eyebrow. Those weren't there when I first saw it, heck, how did they even get there?
Being the curious person I am, I walked towards it.
When I was there, I picked up the pad and opened it. I widened my eyes in awe, admiring the beautiful sketches and drawings inside of it. I was almost at the end of the sketch pad, until something disturbing caught my eye. It was a sketch of a girl, drowning herself. Unlike the other person's artworks which were really lively and fun-looking, this has a feeling of...depression and loneliness. It somehow looked like a suicide.
Why would the artist draw that here?
I turned to another page and saw something, or even read something. It says 'Draw yourself.' which was written in pencil. I was really confused and scared at that moment, thinking that it was just a prank. I decided to leave the page but I had a feeling that I cannot escape it, so I picked up the pencil and drew myself. I haven't drawn chibi for years, so I tried to draw my chibi self. After a few erasures, I was satisfied of my result and thought out loud, "Now, what's next?" I heard a splash by the river, which made me look up from the pad and saw nothing but large ripples that were beginning to fade. Shrugging my impossible thoughts off, I looked back at the pad and saw a new sentence below my chibi self that read,
Turn to another page.
Before I turn the page, thoughts popped in my mind. Why was I obeying the instructions? Why can't I just leave this sketch pad? And where was Harold? I cannot believe I was doing this, but it seemed like I was enjoying the moment. Alone.
I turned to another page and saw another sentence that read, 'Now, go back.'
Confused, I gulped, knowing that it was talking to me. I didn't mind the time, I was too scared for no reason even though I knew that nothing would go wrong when I check it out. But, I just have this feeling. The feeling....of being tested and watched.
Slowly, I went back from the page where I drew and gasped, throwing the pad and pencil a few meters away beside of me.
My drawing of chibi me...has turned into a horrifying picture of being stabbed and realistic blood was coming out from the heart of my chibi me. Oh God, what is this!? I can't believe what I'm seeing!
"Layka." I heard a familiar voice and whipped my head to its source, sweat was dripping over me like crazy. I saw Harold, and behind him was a short school girl. The school girl has midnight hair, but I cannot see her face well because of her head lowering, making her look like a ghost; her skin was pale, she wore a white uniformed-blouse with dark green necktie, a dark green above-the-ankles skirt that matched her necktie, and has black doll shoes and white socks. All in all, she looked dead and soulless. "H-Harold, what's happening? D-did you know all of this??" I stuttered, tears were making their way out from my eyes and streamed down to my cheeks. He slowly pointed at something behind me, which made me turn back also to what he was pointing at. Then I widened my eyes.
It was Harold--the real Harold. I don't know why but I can tell that he's the real deal.
He was floating on the river as blood was still expanding, but they were forming like a picture....a dreadful one, almost engulfing the clear blue water. Was that even there?! I did not see that a while ago when I came here by the river! This made me sob louder, and whipped my head to them. "Th-then who ARE you?!" I yelled. I swear I heard the girl mutter something before 'Harold' was erased. I shook my head slowly, then it turned into a violent way, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BOYFRIEND!?!" I shouted, ready to punch her to the guts. But she seemed not afraid of my voice.
She lifted her yellow pencil up and began to draw something, but her head was tilted down. "Isn't it magnificent? My artwork..." She spoke, even when she's trying to sound like she was satisfied, her voice was monotone. I shook my head before I shot a death glare at her, "No, it's not! Do you EVEN call this ART?! HUH?! KILLING MY BOYFRIEND IS ART?!?!?" she did not answer me, and began to lift her head up, and saw her features on her face. She has grey hollows but has dark eyes that matches with her hair, and in front of her black eyes--seeming like they're her pupils--were crimson red. She frowned, as I knew that this was my end.
I heard beeping noises, echoing through the room. Knowing that I was in the hospital, I was relieved about it.
Relieved that I escaped that dreadful event.
But, who brought me here? I glanced around the room as I still laid down on the hospital bed. I furrowed as I tried to piece my last memories together, then closed my eyes. But they were shot open when I heard a familiar chuckling by the door, and this time, I did not dare to go near it.
I closed my eyes once more, but somehow felt a slight weight on my stomach. Opening my eyes again, I slowly picked the thing, and concluded that it was a piece of paper. How did it get here? I read the letter and it was written in pencil. Then it hit me like a brick fell on top of my head.
'Let's draw some other time.
Here is my advice to you, if you ever find a piece of paper or a sketch pad by the river, seeming that everything seems off or nobody's around the area,
please, please, please....don't come near it nor pick it up.
Or she will draw another death to humankind.