Morning Colors

Ms. Scribble Caribou stretched her silver-gloved hands toward the morning sun streaming through the crystal windows of her fortress. The walls around her sparkled with every color imaginable—giant crayons formed the supporting beams, while marker towers reached toward the ceiling like rainbow pillars.

"Another beautiful day in Canvas Tundra Metropolis," she said, adjusting her silver mask and checking her reflection in a pencil-polished mirror.

Her phone buzzed on the desk made entirely of colored pencils. The screen showed seventeen missed calls from Mayor Brushstroke's office.

"That's unusual," she muttered, pressing the callback button.

"Ms. Scribble! Thank goodness!" Mayor Brushstroke's voice cracked through the speaker. "We have a situation downtown. The art supply stores are reporting something very strange."

"Strange how?"

"Their shelves are emptying, but nobody's buying anything. The owners swear they locked up with full inventory last night."

Ms. Scribble's antlers perked up. "I'll be right there."

She stepped onto her balcony, silver cape fluttering in the crisp tundra breeze.

The Empty Canvas

Ms. Scribble soared over Canvas Tundra Metropolis, her silver cape streaming behind her. Below, the city's colorful buildings looked smaller than usual—and strangely dull.

She landed outside Paintbrush & Pencil Paradise, the largest art store downtown. Through the windows, she could see bare shelves where mountains of supplies should be.

"Ms. Scribble!" A short otter in a green apron rushed out, wringing his paws. "Thank goodness you're here. I'm Otto, the store manager."

"Tell me exactly what happened," she said, adjusting her mask.

"Last night at closing, we had everything—crayons, markers, paints, brushes. This morning..." Otto gestured helplessly at the empty store. "Nothing. But here's the weird part—the security cameras show absolutely nothing unusual."

Ms. Scribble's antlers twitched. She used her x-ray vision to scan the building. "Your storage room is completely empty too."

"Impossible! We keep backup inventory there."

A jogger in bright yellow stopped beside them, breathing heavily. "Same thing happened at Art Attack across the street," she panted. "And Creative Corner on Fifth Avenue."

Ms. Scribble's eyes widened. This wasn't just one store—it was happening everywhere.