Around the world, there are many stories. Stories about heroes, legends, and the extraordinary. However, this story didn't require any of those to become what it is today. Although, no one even knows of the events that happened in that dark gallery. No one, except for two. They were the only ones who survived and escaped to the real world. In the months that passed the horrors of the gallery seemed to become farther away, and soon their lives went back to what they used to be.
But, they never could have guessed what they had left behind.
Soft cries could be heard echoing out from the small house to the north of the sketchbook. Deep inside, in a small room, a pile of burnt paper and ashes sat on the floor with a little palette knife resting on top. In front of the ashes came the source of the cries. A little boy, with short, clean, blonde hair. He was dressed in a long sleeved, button up, green shirt with a black vest over it, along with tan pants and slightly darker dress shoes.
The boy continued crying over the ashes and his body shook as the sadness slowly turned into an emotion of anger.
"Mary," he spoke aloud, "I promise, I will make those who did this to you pay."
As the boy stood up he took ahold of the palette knife at his feet. With a firm grip on the knife, he walked over to one of the drawing pads lying near the far wall where Mary's portrait once hung. On the opened page was a child's drawing in crayon of three people smiling and holding hands. It was Mary with the two survivors that had escaped the gallery.
A scowl formed on the boys face as he stabbed the tall one in the picture.
"Garry….I will make you pay for killing my sister."