Megan Inky Now

She didn’t even mind the stain.

Megan set the paper down. She uncapped the ink. Her hand trembled, but not from fear—from focus. She began to draw. megan inky

Today, however, Megan’s secret was about to become the least of her problems. She didn’t even mind the stain

Megan’s blood turned to ice water. “I don’t know what you’re—” Her hand trembled, but not from fear—from focus

Megan looked from the creepy drawing to Lucas’s earnest, hungry face. “That’s insane. I’m not drawing some nightmare monster for your family’s creepy wish-granting fantasy.”

It was a Tuesday. A grey, drizzly Tuesday in October that smelled like wet leaves and regret. Megan was in the art room after school, alone—her favorite time. She’d just finished a detailed ink drawing of a raven on a thick sheet of watercolor paper. Its eye was a perfect, glossy bead of black. She leaned back, admiring her work, when the door creaked open.

Megan stared at the notebook. A cold dread pooled in her stomach. “Why do you care?”