Novel & Cerita A Diary Of Blood

She didn’t even bother to get a cup as she chugged the blood down straight from the gallon. The blood tasted stale. She didn’t know what it felt like to drink blood straight from the source until Damon showed her how to. She wanted fresh blood, not the stale thing her dad kept feeding her. As she pulled the gallon away from her lips, her eyes caught sight of Taylor. Oh, no. She forgot to lock the door. He was standing there, looking terrified, still trying to process what he just saw. After he had registered it in his head, he let out a screeching scream.

The windows to her room bang open and cool breeze is rushing in, making the papers in her room fly haphazardly. "Layla, you have to calm down." She motions toward me. "So the coven killed him. They killed my father and you didn't do anything about it???!?" I scream at the top of my lungs, the lights still flickering, tears pooling in my eyes and wind blowing in through the windows.

It also had nymphs drawn on the cover and side of the leaves. "There will also be a red book like aged blood, next to it will be a light blue diary, drawing clouds." The young woman went after the other books while remembering which books to pick up on which shelves to pick up. The red book had a pungent smell, as if it had been painted with blood and pain. Artemisia felt totally uncomfortable picking up that book, it was as if everything that had happened badly to her and that she had forgotten would come back with force and brutality because of that book.

I picked it before she could do any harm to it. I traced my hands around the binds as Serena walked around me. It had accumulated a lot of dust. Its grey cover and size really let it blend in with the rest of the library books it’s just that… this wasn’t a library book. It was a diary and there was a boldly handwritten X on the cover in red. I looked suspiciously at Serena but she dashed away, leaving the library. I dropped the heavy-looking but light book on a table and turned to the first page, the effect making me sneeze loudly.

My first memoir in a new diary. My old diary was filled with stories and stories of girls I've fucked and turned but after this incident that happened on 23/4/2027 I had to start a new diary. So... I was angry that mum was remarrying. I really hate the thought that she couldn't keep her pussy at check after dad's death and jumped into another man's arms. However, she kept reassuring me that it's going to be fine but I hate it as hell.

It sloshed around until it filled to the top. Veronica removed the needle and the smell of her blood wafted up to me. I was still in my demon form! Shit! My bloodlust started to come out as my eyes instantly went to the spot where a drop of blood seeped out over her fair skin. My throat started to burn and itch as it began to crave for blood. I gulped and forced my eyes to look away. After the second vial was full, it felt like pure torture. Veronica bandaged up Arisa, stopping the bleeding but it was too late. The smell of blood filled the room.

He crumpled onto the concrete like a puppet with its strings cut. His whole body convulsed as he fumbled inside his coat and pulled something out. A weathered notebook. The yellowed diary had been painstakingly taped back together piece by piece. The creases on the cover had been smoothed flat. Missing corners had been repaired with scraps of paper. He pressed the diary into my hand. "My life... is yours..." Blood kept pouring from his mouth. Every word sounded like it cost him what little life he had left. "Please... stop hating me... alright...?"

A phoenix, charred in the center, her mother’s sigil. Yoo Min hadn’t just been a chaebol wife. She had been something far more dangerous. Chaewon pressed her hand against the phoenix, and the door creaked open with the reluctant groan of ghosts. The room inside was small. Dust-choked. Lit only by the sliver of moonlight from a cracked ceiling tile. And there it was, a velvet-wrapped book resting on an altar of stone. The diary, she moved toward it, her hands were trembling and stopped. There was blood on the floor, old and dried.

My fingertips brushed over the rough, weathered leather pages as I turned to the final section of the diary. The texture changed there—stiffer, drier, the corners slightly curled. The moment my eyes landed on the page, my breath just… froze. A huge dark stain swallowed half the sheet. Old blood, dried into a deep, rusty black. Even after all these years, it carried that metallic, chill‑inducing smell that cut straight into my senses. Instantly, something buried deep in my genes shuddered awake.

My hand reaches out to pick one of them up, when from the corner of my eye, I sight a black book in the sligltly ajar drawer. With pursed lips, I pull it open, my curiosity from earlier rising again. His initials are neatly engraved on the front page, te caligraphy attractive. I open the book, eager to know what it is that is hidden away in his diary. The words on the first page stun me. 'SHE MAKES ME BLEED!. I remember her, she smells like lavender, strawberry and blood. Everytime she comes to me in my dreams, she makes me feel, she makes me bleed, she makes me hunger.