A Diary Of Blood Novels & Stories

Carmen never used to like diary books and thought that they were stupid, reminding you of the reality you want to escape from. Tears fell down her cheeks as she was reading it. 'As you are reading this, you perhaps already know that I left or I am on my way to the airport now. My plane flies at 10 pm. I don't honestly know where I am going and why. But always remember that I'll forever support you. We'll talk daily, please don't cry. I miss you already. Happy birthday again.' As she finished, a sound of a car was heard. Carmen rushed to her bedroom's window and stared outside. It was Liam!

So I grabbed my teddy bear and walked down the stairs. When I came into the kitchen, I didn't saw my daddy and my mommy standing there, arguing and fighting. I just saw my mommy laying on the floor in a puddle of blood. The red liquid was coming out of her belly and flooded around her. Her eyes were wide open and her brown hair had become red of her blood. I whispered her name and grabbed her hand as I knelt next to her. The tears were falling down my cheeks like a waterfall. Her blood was now on my white pajamas. My hands were painted with her blood as I tried to shake her awake.

On the other hand, my curiosity and the need to take my mind off of Sariel, Draven, and all the other issues overcame the potential threat. I grabbed a tissue and used it to open the book as if expecting the pages to be poisoned. I turned the first page and it turned out to be some old diary. I ran through a few entries. The handwriting I found on those pages was sophisticated and beautiful, while the entries themselves looked like historical notes. As I took a closer look, I saw the dates marked in the corners: they were all dated in the nineteenth century. As I read a couple more entries, I started to realize that the one who had written it was a noble… a vampire noble, a woman at that.

The sun is shining. "Isn't she your girl?" Huh? Who? Me? My mind asked that because of confusion. “Yes. He is the one our schoolmates are talking about. They said they couldn't smell her blood so they didn't know if she is vampire blood or not," "Really?!" “Yes. And even if you smell the air, you won't smell anything from her except her perfume," "That's weird," "Bro, I didn't smell anything on her except her perfume," "Me too, I didn't smell her blood,"

Not mine. A woman in a white dress soaked with blood. A crown broken on black stone. A golden-eyed wolf on its knees. A man with silver eyes screaming her name. A mountain opening like a mouth. Then I was back in the entry hall. Breathing hard. Silver fading from my arms. The rogues stayed bowed. Damien did not move. Kael’s expression was unreadable now. The journal lay open on the floor between us. One sentence glowed across the page. THE BLOOD REMEMBERS BEFORE THE GIRL DOES.

**David’s POV** Here in my New York apartment, as the relentless city rain echoes my mood, I find myself repeatedly drawn to the old, worn pages of Scarlet’s diary. This morning, the echoes of last night's indulgence weigh heavy, a migraine pulsing in the background as I numb it with the usual analgesic. But the diary demands attention once again. I flip to the last entry, a letter penned for me, her "Bumblebee," written in a moment of profound solitude and clarity.

“Yes, mater. I will serve ye until my last breath.” I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I pulled my thoughts away from Jones’ past. I only knew this because I’d gone through the history books kept in the cellar, stumbling upon a journal from the time of Grace Bloodsworth. Her tone had sounded regretful as I brushed my hand over the dark red-ink, my eyes eating up the sorrowful words. I knew without a doubt that she had use her own blood to write it.

I wonder he has his ass fucked or not. There were even a few diaries. I picked up one and hear I found something extremely useful. It had the details of all the murders he had done with the name and accomodation of the victim. Damon should have never stored it but here he did it and now I can torture him with this. I left the place taking the diary too running down the pipe and jumping off the boundary wall....

I can only conclude because this is not written in the diary either. "Does Duna actually know what a diary is?" I complained. After storing the ID Card and mercenary ID in the drawer, I took some packets of cookies from the cupboard and read the diary again. If I look again, the first few pages have been torn. Maybe Duna used to write a diary, but suddenly made this book into a notebook. Starting from the Xenobeast category, mercenary system, base system, to how to use guns and laser swords. January 27, 3043

I know those eyes, where do I know them from? An ache wraps around my skull, and I watch them lift me up. My neck turns on its own, I gape, the panic I had tried to stop rushing back with fevor. The severed head of my elder sister, her shining blonde hair soaked in deep red with a pool of blood surrounding her. There are other limbs next to her, her eyes are wide and empty. Something pushes up against my mouth, and I tremble. A wave of dizziness hits me, I don’t stop staring at the horror show until my lashes flutter down and darkness swallows me.