Morning at the Tower

Super Scribble Doe stretched her arms wide as golden sunlight streamed through the towering windows of her fortress. The massive structure rose around her, walls made entirely of giant crayons stacked like logs, with marker towers spiraling toward the sky. Pencil beams supported the ceiling, and pen pillars lined the great hall.

"Good morning, Artwood Metropolis!" she called out, her voice echoing through the colorful chambers.

She walked to her supply room, cape flowing behind her. Rows of art supplies filled the shelves—every color imaginable, from forest green markers to sunshine yellow crayons. This was her treasure room, where she kept the magical art supplies that helped children across the city create their masterpieces.

Her brown eyes sparkled as she picked up a bright red crayon. Today felt perfect for flying over the city and checking on all the young artists.

But something felt different. The room seemed... quieter somehow.

The Fading Colors

Super Scribble Doe frowned as she counted the shelves again. Three rows of purple crayons had vanished overnight. The spaces where they belonged gaped like missing teeth.

"That's impossible," she muttered, checking behind other supplies. "Art supplies don't just walk away."

Her phone buzzed with an urgent message. Then another. And another. Soon her screen filled with panicked texts from children across Artwood Metropolis.

"My markers dried up while I was drawing!"

"All my colored pencils turned gray!"

"Help! My crayons won't make any marks!"

Super Scribble Doe's brown eyes widened. This wasn't just her fortress—something was stealing art supplies from the entire city. She grabbed her red cape and flew out the window, soaring over the busy streets below.

At Central Park, she spotted a young sparrow perched on a bench where a deer child sat crying. His coloring book lay open, but his crayons made only faint scratches on the paper.

"Don't worry," Super Scribble Doe called as she landed. "I'll figure this out."

But even as she spoke, she watched her own red crayon fade to pale pink in her hand.