Chapter 01 - The Artist

A blank sheet of paper has the potential to become anything one's mind imagines.

A house. A tree. A face.

Or... absolutely nothing at all.

But that all depended on whose hands that paper fell into.

And right now, it was in the hands of an Artist.

At first, the Artist did nothing but tap the graphite tip of his tool of creativity against the blank paper.

He tapped once.

He tapped twice.

But on the third tap, the tip didn't lift. It moved, leaving a thin trace of graphite across the page. Followed by another. Then another.

Stroke after stroke, the scattered lines began to take shape. Whatever the Artist was crafting was still unrecognizable, but the marks no longer resembled mindless scribbling. They were beginning to form something.

The Artist was completely absorbed in his craft. Nothing but silence surrounded him, as if he were floating somewhere in space.

Although that silence didn't last too long.

"—eon!"

He barely heard it. The words seemed so distant, almost as if they didn't exist.

He continued working on his craft.

"L—e-on!"

This time, the voice was much clearer, more audible. But the Artist didn't take his eyes off the paper. The graphite tip of his pencil kept sliding across the page, bringing the drawing closer to completion.

"LEON!!"

The voice finally hit him square in the face like a truck.

The Artist snapped right back to reality, jerking his head upward.

The entire class was staring right at him. One pair of eyes in particular seemed to pierce straight through his soul, sending chills down his spine.

His teacher's.

"Oh, right... Science class," I whispered to myself.

It was as though gravity was pulling my eyes back toward the drawing, but if I didn't look up, I'd be crushed by that bone-chilling stare of my science teacher.

"I was about to snipe you with this duster if you ignored me one more time," she scolded.

Everyone in my class burst out laughing.

"I-I-I'm sorry, miss! I got distracted," I stuttered, letting out an awkward chuckle.

She rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, before turning around to erase the rest of the writing on the whiteboard.

"Anyway, class dismissed! And make sure you complete your homework!!"

The bell rang right after she'd said that.

The students flooded out of the classroom as if the door were a dam waiting to be broken.

I quickly gathered my things and carefully slipped the unfinished drawing between the pages of my notebook.

I couldn't wait to get home.

* * *

I cycled through the familiar streets of Leipzig, Germany, making my way home.

The gentle breeze brought peace to my mind and heart, as I breathed that same breeze in, combined with the afternoon sunlight, providing just the right temperature, that was neither scalding hot, nor chilling cold, I spread out my arms and imagined I was soaring through the skies, it almost felt like heaven for a split second.

It wasn't until my bicycle started wobbling that I remembered something rather important.

Flying is for the birds.

I'd better focus on riding my bike before something unfortunate happened.

My bicycle's tires crunched over the fallen autumn leaves as I rode my bike along the pavement of the road.

"I can't wait to get back home and finish my drawing!" I said to myself, overflowing with excitement.

I'd practically grown up with a pencil and paper in my hands. Being an only child, I'd always get bored pretty quickly. I was also a really shy kid back then.

To be fair, I still am.

I'd always tried to find ways to keep myself entertained, but nothing ever came close to art.

Of course.

I was obsessed with anything and everything related to it.

Sometimes, I'd spend hours watching cartoons and other sorts of TV shows, fascinated by the characters and the worlds they lived in. Other times, I'd grab a pencil and try recreating whatever had caught my attention.

At first, my drawings were nothing special. A few crooked lines here, a few there, some uneven circles to fill things out. But the more I drew, the more those meaningless scribbles started taking shape.

And before I knew it, people started noticing.

Teachers, the few friends I'd managed to make, and relatives. They'd look at my drawings with surprised expressions and tell me how talented I was.

I never really knew what to say when that happened.

Usually, I'd just smile.

A really big smile, at that.

If I saw that smile now, I'd probably laugh or cringe at myself.

But at least I was full of joy.

After all, who wouldn't be happy to hear that they were talented?

Before I knew it, I'd reached home.

I clumsily parked my bicycle, nearly knocking it over, before hurrying toward the front door.

Click.

The door swung open and almost instantly swung shut behind me.

"I'm back, Mom!" I shouted, already hurrying up the stairs.

"Welcome back, Leon! How was—"

"Good!" I'd already answered before she could finish her sentence.

I slipped on one of the stairs but quickly caught myself and got back up, determined not to lose my momentum.

"Leon, don't forget to—"

But I'd already disappeared into my room.

I threw my bag onto the bed, pulled out my notebook, and carefully retrieved the drawing from between its pages. I placed it on my desk and reached for my pencil.

"Finally..." I whispered to myself.

The unfinished lines were right where I'd left them.

I leaned over the paper, examining the scenery I'd been creating during science class. There was a hill, a crooked house, and the beginning of a path that seemed to lead somewhere beyond the edge of the page.

I hadn't decided what was waiting at the end of that path yet.

Maybe a forest.

Or a river.

Actually, why not both?

I smiled at the thought and began drawing again.

A few more strokes found their way onto the paper.

Then—

"Leon..."

My pencil slowed.

I'd heard a voice.

It was too distorted for me to recognize, yet something about it felt so damn familiar. Like I'd heard it somewhere before.

But there was something terribly unsettling about it.

"LEON!"

This time, it sounded far more distorted.

Almost demonic.

And yet, that strange feeling of familiarity wouldn't go away.

The hairs on my arms stood up, almost as if they were trying to tear themselves away from my skin.

My breathing grew uneven. My heartbeat quickened, pounding so loudly that I could almost hear it.

The air suddenly felt colder.

Much colder.

"LEON!!"

This time, I felt something.

A breath.

An icy breath, right beside my ear, as though someone had leaned in close enough to whisper directly into it.

My entire body went stiff.

Something was behind me.

I couldn't see it.

I didn't even dare to look.

But I could feel something approaching my shoulder.

Was that... a hand?

The room felt as though it had dropped below freezing. I was shivering uncontrollably.

And then...

Something touched my shoulder.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I wanted to cry, but no tears came.

I wanted to scream, but my throat felt as though it were being crushed by gravity.

I wanted to turn around.

To see what was behind me.

But my body wouldn't move.

No matter how desperately I tried.

For a moment, I genuinely believed I was about to die.

Or...

Was I already dead?