This story is something really odd and it could be based on several movies like The 6th Sense and probably The Ring. Of course, I have to add my own personal twist to make it more interesting. First chapter of the story and I hope it doesn't suck for you guys.

Chapter 1: Innocence

The boy was just another innocent creature. He never harmed anyone or never became angry. All he loved was drawing. It was the best way to express his happiness. The images that appeared on the paper expressed his little cheerful mood. Pictures of flowers, trees and the sun were always drawn to perfection. Nothing else mattered to the boy because he would be left alone in his imaginary world. He was free to draw anything and everything that he wanted. The boy never let people in his pictures to be sad. Sadness was something that was wrong. It brought negative thoughts that could possibly leave a person in darkness.

But the boy was too young to understand what pain was. He was only 3 years old, living in a bright home with windows opened up to the sunlight. Everything around the house was silent. Cars hardly passed by the peaceful home and the neighbors were quite respectful of others. The small child didn’t know anything about the world outside his home. His knowledge was based on what he knew about his home and everything inside; nothing more.

Somehow, the small boy learned something new from his dreams. He quickly pulled off the covers from his bed and slowly hopped off. Making his way through the twists and turns in of the hallway, he walked into the living room. His eyes instantly were glued onto the set of crayons, waiting to be used to express his happiness. For an hour, the little boy worked furiously to make the picture perfect. He wanted to finish it before his mommy and daddy got up to give a morning greeting.

The little fingers wrapped around the red crayon and moved it all over the paper. Red showed up all over the bottom of the picture and made its way upward. It then enclosed the small orange circle as if it was suffocating a life inside. The small hand softy clutched the orange crayon and created a person, lying near the puddle of red towards the floor. Why was the person on the floor near the color of red? The boy didn’t know. He only drew what he could remember from his dream.

The boy closed his little eyes to imagine what was missing from the dream. He remembered a man, walking towards a woman while holding a sharp, shiny object. As the man got closer, the woman began yelling and screaming at him. She began to throw small items at the man, but it didn’t stop him from getting closer to her. He finally launched himself onto the shrieking woman and began to jab her with the sharp, shiny object. All of a sudden, a red substance began to magically appear out of nowhere. It dripped down the woman’s body and onto the floor. Slowly, the liquid began to gather up as if to create a mini flood. Second by second, the struggling woman began to lose energy and eventually fall to the floor. The man had been showered with the red substance. But where did the red stuff come from? Why wasn’t the woman moving anymore or screaming? The little boy wasn’t able to comprehend the action in front of him. All he could do was stand there, seeing a lifeless woman slowly go into a permanent sleep.

The little child opened his eyes and walked into the kitchen. His little pitter patter of his feet echoed through out the hallway, waking his parents up. Something about a sharp, shiny object, similar to the one in his dream, attracted the boy. Its lust was something unforgettable. Soon, obsessive thoughts came to the boy’s head as he thought about picking up the object and rubbing it against his skin. Would the red substance from his dream magically show up? The boy became so curious, he didn’t hear his parents’ footsteps coming down the stairs. His little hands carefully grasped the shiny thing. He pointed the tip at his arm and began to carefully bring the shiny thing down. For the first time in his life, the boy felt a sharp, stinging pain left over from the shiny object. But the boy didn’t cry, instead he felt pleasure. Something about this mysterious thing soothed him. It opened up his skin and let the fresh air flow inside of his small body. The boy wanted more. He lifted the shiny object closer to the skin on his wrist and slid it down. A dark, red liquid began oozing from the broken skin and slowly dripped down his arm. The crimson red liquid was the same liquid that came from the woman in his dream.

Slowly, the little boy began to piece together that maybe the lady in his dream was sleeping because she deeply enjoyed the pleasure from the sharp thing. The boy began to think about making one more mark on his arm before he went back to his unfinished picture. He grasped the knife into the same position as before and touched the skin on another part of his arm. Before he could make that one special mark, his mommy ripped the sharp thing out of hand. She began to yell and cry at the little boy. But the child didn’t know what was going on. Why was his mommy yelling and crying? Was she in pleasure just like the woman in his dream?

“Chester! No!! Oh my god... What have you done with yourself?!”

His mommy yanked the boy into the bathroom and began to rub away all of the red liquid from his arm. The little boy didn’t want to be cleaned up yet. He liked looking at the dark, crimson liquid. Something about it was mesmerizing and his mommy was taking away his curiosity. Why did she act like this? Didn’t she want him to be happy?

The little boy began to struggle against his mommy. “NOOO! LEAVE ME ALONE MOMMY! I LIKE THE RED STUFF! I WANT TO LOOK AT IT AGAIN!” He pulled his arm away from her.

His mommy was confused. Did he just tell her that he wanted to look at the blood everywhere on his arm? In her mind, there wasn’t any way that he enjoyed cutting himself. He was only a small boy. Little boys aren’t able to grasp onto the concept of self harm and pain. He was supposed to be as innocent as an angel.

The thing that shocked his mommy even more was the horrific picture he left unfinished on the coffee table. It left his mommy into tears and his daddy into anger. The boy was confused. He couldn't understand why they didn't like it. All of that work into the picture and the child received looks of disgust and shock. His parents began to tell him that what he drew was wrong. They had to make him promise to never draw anything like this again. He still couldn't comprehend what his parents were talking about. The little boy thought it was a pretty picture. It was of a woman, lying on the floor with the red stuff all over her. He saw nothing inappropriate with it.

Feeling ashamed in something he didn't do wrong, the boy shuffled his way back into his room. In his own sanctuary, he could do anything he wished, including drawing another picture, a better and prettier picture than the other one that would make his mommy and daddy even prouder.

The little fingers took hold of a marker and drew a circle. Instead of using red, like last time, he wanted to use black for the eyes. Maybe his mommy's favorite color wasn't red. Was that why she didn't like the picture?

So many questions appeared in the boy's head about his last picture as he began to draw a dark circle for the eyes. The little child had the urge to draw liquid again. He knew he couldn't use red because it would make his mommy sad. The boy took the black marker and began to make the eyes completely black with a dripping sensation from the eye socket. As he finished the rest of the face, he tried to remember where he saw it. Was it from another dream or did he see this person in real life? All he knew was that this was a little girl. Her skin was pale and her long black hair flowed down her face. She didn't smile because she was sad. Her tears fell down her face. Except her tears weren't like the little boy's. They were black and thick, just like the ink from the marker.

The boy finally finished the picture of the girl. He didn’t need to get up from his spot. His mommy had come into the room to say something about the boy’s strange behavior. Something had stopped her. The picture that the little child drew started to scare her. The boy saw his mommy break down and cry. Why was she sad? Didn’t his picture make her feel better?

“Don’t you like it, mommy? I made it just for you!” A small happy smile appeared on the boy’s face, hoping his mommy would love the picture.

A sharp, burning sensation filled up his face. His mommy had slapped him. She began to yell unfamiliar words at him.

“I told you before, Chester. DO NOT DRAW THINGS LIKE THESE! They are wrong and you shouldn’t be thinking of this kind of stuff. I’m bringing you to a doctor right now...”

His mommy quickly dressed the little boy in his cute outfit, making him look like a sweet angel. His daddy was shuffling around the house, trying to figure out who to call about the little boy’s problem. He could hear his parents discussing a mental institution where the boy could get help. The child didn’t understand what was going on. What did he need help for? His mommy and daddy always told him that he was such a smart little boy, but he didn’t feel so smart now. The little child didn’t know what a ‘mental institution’ was. He figured it was a place where all kids go to, to play games and have fun. His mommy used to talk to him about a place where all children go to when they turn 5 years old and learn new things about the world.

After gathering up some of the little boy’s belongings, his parents buckled him in his seat. The family took a long drive through the country side, eventually getting closer to a really big white building. To the little boy, his parents seemed very anxious about something. Either that or they were in a rush to get to that white building. His daddy quickly parked the car and his mommy unbuckled him. Holding onto the little child’s hand, his mommy lead the way to the front entrance of the mysterious white building.

The inside of the white place was rather ugly. It wasn’t as pretty as the outside. As the boy took a quick glance around, he saw a lot of scary looking people. They weren’t functioning right. Something about them scared the boy.

His mommy looked at a gumball machine further down the room. She knelt down to the boy.

“Sweetie, why don’t you go and use this quarter to get a gumball from the machine?” His mommy gave him a quarter and pointed towards the machine. The boy was a little hesitant. Maybe the machine wasn’t working right, just like the people in the building.

His mommy gave the little boy a small push towards the machine. It was like his mommy touch gave him the courage to make the small trip to the machine. He dropped the quarter into the slot. As he began to turn the knob, he heard the quarter clang inside the machine. Just like a factory, the machine began to work and eventually spit out a pretty red gumball.

As the little boy turned around to face his parents, he saw them leave him. Why didn’t they say goodbye to him or why did they want to leave him here? Was it because his parents didn’t love him and they decided to leave him?

The boy’s little feet began to move towards the door. An employee of the building stopped the boy and picked him up. The child didn’t like the unwanted stranger, who was preventing him to see his parents again. He began to kick and scream.

“MOMMY, DADDY!! COME BACK!! I’M SORRY, PLEASE COME BACK!!”

The boy began to break down and sob. For a second he saw his mommy turn around slightly and turned away.