The Fourth Tower’s Pause

Crayon Red Castle hummed like a big red refrigerator. Four crayon towers pointed up, smooth and shiny.

Crayon Red Riding Hood zipped through the hallway in her red boots, cape flicking behind her.

“Squeeeek!” came from the fourth tower.

She pushed the door open. Her giant magic crayon stood on its metal stand, as tall as she was, bright red with a blunt tip.

“Hey, partner,” she said, pulling on red gloves. “We promised the forest kids a new mural.”

She lifted the crayon. It felt heavier than yesterday.

She pressed the tip to a blank wall and drew the start of a door.

The crayon jerked away.

“Not today,” it said in a small, scratchy voice.

Crayon Red Riding Hood blinked. “You… talk?”

A thin gray smudge clung to the tip.

Her phone buzzed, then flashed: NO SIGNAL.

Outside the window, Art Gallery Forest looked normal—until the far trees, where the colors seemed washed-out at the edges.

The Minute Hand Café

Crayon Red Riding Hood stepped onto the balcony and squinted at the pale-edged trees.

“Okay,” she said. “No mural. Just answers.”

The giant magic crayon—bright red, heavy in her hands—made a tiny squeak.

Her phone still flashed NO SIGNAL.

She held the crayon like a broom and lifted off, cape snapping as she flew over Art Gallery Forest. Below, a deer-person in a paint-splattered vest pointed at a bush that had turned the color of sidewalk.

Crayon Red Riding Hood landed by a small café shaped like a clock, with a door like a round watch face.

A wise-looking man with a white beard and an ink-stained apron waved a spoon. “Minute Hand Café. Sit, kid. You look like you’re about to yell at a pencil.”

“I don’t yell,” she said, then immediately did. “Crayon! Draw!”

It jerked.

The tip skated across the café’s bright sign, smearing gray like wet ash. The red letters sagged into dull brown.

The man’s smile vanished. “Mr. Grayout’s been near. And your crayon is scared.”

Crayon Red Riding Hood gripped it tighter. “What are you hiding?”

The crayon went stiff.

Gray crept from the smear, crawling along the ground toward her boots