Morning Rituals

Turbo Scribble Doe stretched her arms as morning sunlight streamed through the crystal windows of her tower. The entire structure hummed softly around her—walls made of giant crayons, floors of polished pencils, and staircases carved from oversized markers.

"Good morning, Art Supply Tower," she said, patting a nearby green crayon beam.

The tower's control panel beeped cheerfully from the center room. Turbo walked over and pressed her gloved hand against the smooth surface. Holographic displays showed the city below—Art Gallery Metropolis was already bustling with humanoid deer heading to work, their antlers catching the light.

"Systems check," she announced.

The panel flickered. Strange. It had never done that before.

"Tower, run diagnostics," she commanded.

Another flicker, then a series of rapid beeps. The smell of burning electronics drifted up from somewhere deep in the tower's core.

"That's not normal," Turbo muttered, her teal eyes narrowing. She pressed another button, and this time sparks shot out.

The Baker's Warning

Turbo Scribble Doe stepped back from the sparking control panel, her teal eyes wide behind her mask. The tower shuddered around her.

"Emergency protocols activated," a mechanical voice announced from nowhere.

She pressed her hand against the nearest crayon wall and felt something wrong. The entire structure was heating up. Through her crystal windows, she could see humanoid deer on the streets below pointing at her tower.

"I need to get down there," she muttered, then teleported directly to the street level.

A deer baker in a flour-dusted apron rushed over to her. "Miss Turbo! Your tower's been making weird noises all morning. And look!" He pointed behind her.

Turbo spun around. A painting of a thunderstorm was floating down from her tower's upper levels, rain actually dripping from its frame onto the sidewalk below.

"That's impossible," she whispered.

More paintings drifted out through the crystal windows—a flock of painted birds that chirped real songs, a portrait of a garden with flowers that swayed in a painted breeze.

The baker stepped closer. "Miss, I think your art supplies are making the paintings come alive."