“That’s pretty, honey.” The mother walked by her daughter sat at the kitchen table, drawing her third picture.

The mother grabbed some orange juice from the fridge. Providing her daughter a glass, she moved to view the picture better. “Honey, what is that, you’re drawing?” She couldn’t help the fear in her voice, from leaking out.

“It’s you mommy.” The girl answered. She continued to draw her mother.

The drawing showed her mother on the kitchen floor, while the daughter stood over her. What was scary is the same clothes in the drawing, matched the mother. There is no way the daughter could have known what she would wear. In fact, she changed at the last minute upstairs, due to spilling coffee on her shirt.

With trembling hands, the mother reached for the drawing and picked it up. Why would she draw this? “Honey.” She hesitated, then went on. “Why did you draw this?”

“I don’t know.” The five year old looked up innocently. “I am not finished, mommy!” The girl reached for the drawing.

The mother moved away, not allowing her daughter to take it from her.

“I need to finish it!” The daughter raised her voice, and got up from the table.

The mother, confused, moved backward, unknowingly slipped on the wet floor. Banging her head against the cabinet, she hit the floor. A pool of blood leaked onto the linoleum.

The girl took the drawing from the floor, going back to the table finished her drawing by adding a red color.

The cops viewing the lying body of the woman shook their head. Looking again at the girls drawing, one finally spoke. “Why are these kids drawing their parents, after they die?”

“Beats me.” Replied Jim. “Seven cases in the last three days. Every one of them been questioned and we get the same answer, they don’t know.”

“I did read on the net.” The questioning cop continued. “These drawings are being made before the accidents. Seems other Countries are reporting the same thing. Parents die, kids drawings are found, showing the accident. It’s being reported, some parents are taking away all their kids drawing material.”

“That’s crazy.” Jim laughed. “That would mean every kid became psychic and would be drawing their parent’s death. No way.”

“Glad your home.” His wife greeted Jim with a kiss. She looked relieved.

“What’s wrong honey?” Jim looked around, not seeing his boy, Tommy.

“Nothing now honey.” Martha smiled. “It’s just Tommy was really upset after he drew a crazy picture. I had to calm him down. You was late, and I got worried.”

 “Can I see that drawing?” The edge of his voice cracked a bit.

“I threw it away.” Martha was now confused with Jim’s change of mood.

Moving quickly over to the trashcan, Jim dug the drawing out. It showed him beside his cop car laying in a pool of blood. It looked like a shootout had occurred.

“Honey, I am taking tomorrow off work.”