My heart aches so much it feels like it’s about to burst. I open my mouth to cry, but nothing comes out. I shut it, and continue on with what I’ve been doing. Drawing. Drawing this same cursed picture over and over again.
    It’s a picture of space with large circles with inscriptions in them, at their center is the moon. On the lower left hand of the paper is a blue hourglass. The only thing that has been changing in the picture is that hour glass. Every tenth picture I add little grains of sand to the bottom of the hour glass.
    But they don't notice... Sadness engulfs me again. I swallow back the tears, and continue to draw. They have to notice it!
    There’s movement beside me. I look out of the corner of my eye. It’s mom.
    “Honey, she’s doing it again.” Her face is as pale as the moon in my picture.
    Dad sighs from the kitchen. “Don’t worry about it, dear. The news said it was some kind of internet fad. All the kids all over the world are doing it.” The sound of metal hitting the floor fill the room. “Darn it...” His voice ends in a worried whine.
    “But she hasn’t drawn anything else. For six months.”
    Dad comes out of the kitchen. “I know, honey, I know.” I see him hug her from out of the corner of my eye. “We’ll figure this out.” His voice is soft. “Let’s be brave. For her. She needs us. We'll try to find another psychiatrist.”
    They’ve taken me to every shrink in town, but no one has been able to help me. But that’s because this isn’t part of an illness they can cure, or an internet fad that will pass. This picture that I’m cursed to draw.
    I swallow back my tears again, and focus on my artwork. I work on the circles. They’re blue. Just like how I feel.
     It's a warning! I want to tell. But when this curse fell upon me, it took my voice and most of my movement. I can’t do much. I can't take the picture to them, I can't show them that the inscriptions are really directions to safety...
    I can’t. So I draw. I draw and pray that they notice.
    “Tell you what, why don’t we all go out to eat for dinner?” Dad walks over to me. “Does that -”
    “What is it honey?” Mom asks. She walks over and stays silent too.
    I take a break to check on them.
    I’m shocked. They’re looking at my drawings that are sprawled all over the floor. Dad picks two of them up.
    “Honey, did you notice...?”
    “Yes...The hour glass and the inscriptions..."
    Sighing with relief, I put down my crayon.