“Childish,” said Ty’s artist father, crumpling up another of his son’s drawings of the creature with horns before tossing it in the trash.
Ty drew until everyone at school agreed his creatures were disturbingly lifelike, then showed his father again.
“Art must be felt. You don’t have what it takes.”
He locked himself in his son’s room and tore the art off the walls, disregarding his son’s pleas to stop.
Big mistake.
You see, Ty knew the power of his art, and from the sounds of his father’s screams, it made sure his father felt every last bite.
