Blood On Canvas の小説・ストーリー

I'm sure my religious Russian mother would've had a heart attack if she knew what I was doing right now, but I couldn't be bothered enough to care. A blank canvas has unlimited possibilities. While we start out painting the perfect picture, things don't always go as planned. Our canvas got smudged along the way. We accidentally mixed the wrong colors, and some of the lines turned out jagged. At the end of it though, it's ours, and that's what makes it priceless.

And then we used the rope to climb down to our parents’ room and entered the room unaware of the fact that, it was actually a theatre of real life R-rated film. Madarashi entered there first followed by me. When I entered I saw, because of some reason Madarashi froze there. And soon, I found out a horrible scene! I saw my father was standing there with two daggers in his hand and our mother was lying on the ground covered in blood, cuts and bruises. This scene had two different reactions in me and Madarashi . He started to scream out loud like he had gone berserk and for me, I couldn’t even move, my senses went numb. Because of his scream, father knew that we were there. He, with a daring fa

The previous night, after being shockingly stabbed by a machete, Ben was left gasping for air and bleeding heavily. How could he have underestimated that b****** Mapulanga? He cussed himself. He had never being this stupid. If only he could be given a chance to kill that fool, he would but looking at how things stood, he would be dead in a few minutes if the blood flow wouldn’t be contained. Damn, life flashed on his face. The k3 million wasn’t going to be spent. If Devi could play the game right, he would get it all. Screw Devi, he gasped for air even more. He was his bestfriend though. One only friend in crime. One chance, just a chance, he begged looking at the heavens.

"You are bleeding." "I am?" "I can smell your blood strongly." She frowned. She bathed and made sure she washed all the blood off. "But I washed it off." "You are probably bleeding again. Your malnutrition would not let your blood clot well, and now I'm the one suffering." "I am sorry your highness. I should leave." Luciana stood up, but when she walked past Raziel, he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Where do you think you are going little girl?"

Dominic looked at Gage in disbelief. “I only took the heads and two bags of blood. That Haverley snores like a fucking broken tractor. I walked right into his room, lifted the covers and placed the pig’s head between his legs and soaked the area with the pig’s blood. Halden was still awake so I left the pig’s head in his bed and sprayed the blood everywhere over his bed while he was in the shower,” Gage said. The coffee machine beeped and Dominic shook his head. “That sends a message all right.”

he sighed, a sound of genuine, disappointed resignation. He pressed down. The blade tore into the flesh of my left forearm. A gasp of pure, unadulterated agony tore from my throat, my body violently jerking against the heavy metal chair. The thick leather straps bit mercilessly into my wrists and chest, holding me pinned, offering no escape from the searing heat of the blade. Hot, crimson blood began to well up from the deep, clean line he had drawn, spilling over my skin and dripping slowly, rhythmically, onto the pristine white tile floor. In the blinding brightness of the room, the blood looked unnaturally dark, almost black.

He was covered in paint—black smears on his hands, grey splatters on his shirt. "Cale?" Elion asked. Cale didn't answer. He was in a trance. Slash. Scrape. Smear. Elion walked around to see the canvas. He froze. It wasn't a painting. It was a blueprint of chaos. The canvas was covered in a web of black lines. Thick, oily ropes that twisted and coiled around each other. They looked like snakes. They looked like veins. They looked like cracks in reality. And in the center of the web, trapped in the mesh of black and grey, was a single, tiny dot of gold.

Investigations: The patient’s initial work-up included a full blood count, type and cross-match for transfusion, and X-ray imaging of her head and lateral cervical spine. The X-rays were both performed at the primary medical facility. Head X-ray was of poor quality but did not reveal any obvious injuries. Cervical spine X-ray imaging was lost on transfer, and repeating the cervical spine X-ray at the tertiary hospital would have delayed operative treatment. Cross-sectional imaging was not performed, as CT scanning is not available at the tertiary hospital. Her full blood count was notable for a hemoglobin of 11.3 g/dl and platelet count of 202 (x106 u/ml).

On the battered basin before him, nine bloody spikes lay in a haphazard pile, stained crimson, an unsettling testament to what had transpired. “Done,” I muttered, voice strained but steady. I reached for the crumpled piece of paper, now soaked in blood and sweat, tangled in the mess. The note had once been pristine—perhaps just a scribbled warning or plea—yet now it looked like a fragment of a nightmare.