The Boy Who Stole Colours (Part 2)

Even though his food had turned into outline drawings, Tommy still didn’t stop.

The very next day at school, he stole even more crayons, paints, and coloured pencils.

The walls, the windows, the sofa — all of it — had turned into black-and-white, colouring-book outlines.

His mum and dad were outlines too.

Even Grandma and Grandpa.

But they didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, dinner looks lovely!” Mum said, admiring a plate of outline steak.

Still, Tommy went back to school and kept stealing.

The sky.

The sun.

The garden.

Everything… outline.

The mirror showed his reflection, and it, too, was an outline.

He looked down at his arms, legs, body.

Just a sketch.

“Grandma!” he shouted. “What’s happening?”

Outline Grandma stepped out of her room.

“You did this, Tommy,” she said. “Remember what I told you. Only you can undo it.”

Tommy nodded through tears.

He rushed to his room, grabbed every crayon, paint pot, and coloured pencil he had ever stolen, and hopped on his bicycle.

His friends forgave him.

And slowly — like magic — the colours returned to the world… and to Tommy.

From that day on, Tommy never stole anything again.

And he never took colours — or people — for granted.

Till we twist again. 🫖✨

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