روايات وقصص ضمن Bleach: Memories In The Rain

Rain complained that her head hurt and her eyes looked empty. It was the last memory Rain could reach. Suddenly, Rain jolted awake with sweat pouring down her body and tears streaming down her face. She could still feel the coldness of the marble on which she was lying. Her memories replayed even further back. Rain was standing in a building entrance with a courtyard filled with melted snow. Her fingers were numb from the cold. Her eyes looked straight at the entrance of an old building where roses were engraved on each other. The door was ancient, significant, and very black.

The sound she made when the blade found its mark something between that has haunted my dreams ever since, the flashes were so real and exact. The rain begins as it now often does in places touched by profound grief, softly at first. Then harder, as if the heavens have decided that this ground needs cleansing, that perhaps enough water can wash away the stains that have marked this place as cursed. I sink to my knees in the dirt without conscious thought, my legs simply refusing to carry me any further into this sanctuary of memory. The rain soaks through my dress immediately, the fabric clinging to my skin like a burial shroud, and I do not attempt to shield myself from it.

The rain on the western ridge did not merely fall; it drove sideways, a relentless sheet of freezing highland water that turned the peat and heather into a thick, clinging mire. Tala stood perfectly motionless at the absolute precipice of the ridge, her feet dug firmly into the ancient earth. The storm howled around her, ripping at her clothes, but her spun-copper hair seemed to dance with a life of its own, vibrant against the dark, bruising gray of the sky. Her icy blue eyes were fixed on the valley below, tracking the glowing halogen headlights of Malakai’s heavy excavation armor as the machinery slowly ground its way toward the first sacred threshold.

See you all in my next one <3 With all my gratitude, [Sapphire Phoenix]

I was hoping my training this summer would give me the edge I needed to end this bullying once and for all. I took a final look in the mirror. My long onyx black hair was down today, gentle waves cascaded along my face, neck, shoulders, arms, and back. My vibrantly blue eyes mirrored my determination. I nodded in approval at my outfit, a black and silver blouse and black skinny jeans. I was ready to seize the day and make it amazing. I hurried out the door and leapt into my tiny little sedan, driving off to my high school.

"And if I don't finish the memories, will it still be there?" "No, once activated, either you finish it or not, it will disappear." "Good," she gave a big sigh of relief. That is one memory, she needs a bleach to erase.

“Stop faking it. A little blood won’t kill you. I’m not Martin. I won’t be fooled by your act.” She had the guards lock me in the walk-in freezer. “The cold will reduce dizziness from the blood loss. Once Tricia doesn’t need more blood, you can come out. It’s for your own good.” “No, don’t! I’ll die if you leave me here.” Nausea and dizziness pushed me toward the freezer door. I tried to wedge the iron door open, but the mechanism pinched and crushed two of my fingers. The pain was white-hot, nearly making me faint.

When I was attacked by a rogue, I truly thought I was going to die. When I opened my eyes again, my vision was still blurry. Not far away, a healer was speaking softly to Raymond. "We tried everything we could, but the poison has been in her system for some time. No one knows what the side effects will be." I've always hated places that reek of disinfectant. I pushed myself up on the edge of the bed, wanting to walk out and tell them I was ready to leave. Just as I reached the doorway, I heard Raymond's voice. He sounded relieved.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to scrub the image of the denim jacket out of her mind. Get it together, she ordered herself, her breath coming in ragged, visible plumes. She isn't here. She’s never going to be here. "Hey! Wait up!" The voice was muffled by the downpour, but Thalia’s ears twitched. She turned her head slightly, her amber eyes tracking a figure rushing out of the diner. It was Chloe. She was holding a cheap, broken umbrella that flipped inside out the moment the wind hit it. Swearing softly, Chloe abandoned the umbrella, letting the rain drench her dark hair as she jogged across the slick sidewalk to close the distance between them.

But I’m done playing by anyone’s rules but my own. I uncork the vial. A scent like ozone and rain fills the white space. Without another thought, I throw my head back and drink. The effect is not gentle. It’s a thunderclap inside my skull. The white void shatters into a kaleidoscope of screaming color—crimson rage, the cold blue of calculated cruelty, the blinding white of a forgotten pain. A name echoes from the depths, not my own, a title spoken in whispers and screams by a thousand voices: