The Littlest Necromancer Draws Your Doom

27 08 2014

The saga continues as the tiniest wielder of magic both dark and terrible continues to make her powers known to the world.

Mondays are usually days of great bonding and adventure in our household. The kids and I watch movies, run around outside, and all manner of other fun stuff. I’ve been putting quite a few hours into a sketchbook recently so the girl child at least has decided that perhaps she should do the same. She already loves to draw so it is no surprise really.

I was sitting on the floor at the end of my bed listening to music on the record player, phone nearby waiting for my wife to call and tell me how work was going. I had my bag of pencils, erasers and tiny metal sharpener on the floor beside me and was scrawling away at a page in my sketchbook.

Enter the necromancer.

“Hi Daddy.”

“Hi weirdo.”

“What are you drawing?”

“A face.”

“Is it a real one?”

I had to stop for a moment here. Not because I didn’t know how to answer but because I was afraid of how this conversation was going to expand.

“Well no. It isn’t of a real person; it’s more of a cartoon you could say.”

“Oh.” Ponderous head scratching follows for a few silent moments.

“Are you going to draw the skin?” she asks.

“Well I’m drawing it with skin on, yes. It would be a skull instead of a face if I didn’t draw the skin.”

“Oh.”

I couldn’t help myself. “Why do you ask about the skin?”

“Last time I drew a person he didn’t have any skin. He had a helmet and a horse and a big shield but no skin.”

“Why was there no skin?” I asked.

“I’m going to go finish this picture; you’re really going to like it.”

Dodging the question. Slippery little speaker of the dead. I tried my best not to think anything of it and went about my own sketchy business (tee hee). The peace lasted about six minutes before she returned again with a large piece of paper in tow that looked like it may have been used to clean up blood splatter at a murder scene.

“Daddy, look at this, look at what I drew!”

I look. I can’t make out what I’m looking at, but I look.

“That’s very elaborate kiddo, what all did you draw here?”

“It’s you and your doom.”

“Oh. Wait, what?”

“It’s you daddy. See? There’s your beard.”

“Okay, sure I could see that. What’s all the red stuff though? Is that a spear in my chest?” I really start squinting at this thing because…damn.

“No that’s you and you have all the stuff you were drinking that’s red like blood and that thing (indicating what looks to be a spear) is your wheel and this (pointing to what looks to be a horrifically jagged metal cube) is your doom. You’re going to go fast too because that’s what it does.”

I stare and stare at this picture hoping that something that makes an ounce of sense is going to pop out at me but it’s just not coming.

“Doom?” I ask.

Sadly the conversation didn’t go any further. She ran off back to her room screaming “Doom doom, dooooooom.” So you know, that’s over with I guess. Up until the time I’m typing this nothing has happened to me yet. There has been no indication that any sort of doom is coming my way. I’ve stayed away from elevators and spears, batons, javelins, and any other pointy thing I can think of. Hell I even tucked the letter opener at work into a drawer in case she was drawing that and just screwed up the perspective in the picture so it seemed huge.

Thanks for the comforting thoughts little friend of dead things.

I’ve got my eye on you.

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2 responses

27 08 2014
Purji

Proud Aunt…right here! Aw, such a cute little storm crow!!!

27 08 2014
Kyllan Brindle

Weird stuff is happening.

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