Blood Pooling In Fingers Novels & Stories

Too tight. I followed the shaking outline of her fingers to her wrist. And there was blood. It wasn’t gushing. But it was steady. Thin, clean lines down the inside of her forearm. The kind of injury that came from quiet, determined pain. Not a cry for help. But release.

We walked in, with each step in my back tensed, and my fingers curled. Something was terribly wrong. The moment we were in fully, I saw it. My heart banged loudly, sweat formed on my forehead and brows. Goosebumps covered my arms solely. It was on the floor. All over the floor. It was fresh. FRESH! Blood. It had pooled in a shallow basin that was sitting comfortably in the middle of this portal, the basin seemed to have a joke underneath it, where the blood spilled into working its way around. Dark magic. No, blood magic.

” I swing the door open. Looking down, a thin trail of blood is by my feet. My eyes follow the trails drop by drop. The blood's not dark, so it hadn't been there for long…someone might be hurt. I walk into the room, my eyes still steadily follows the trails until I trace it to… A bloody pale hand hangs from the black couch. The fingers edges are black and the hands cold. My eyes come up until I find a wrinkled pair of brown eyes staring at me. They are bloody with a stiff, dead stare.

They formed small, dark red halos at the tips of her fingers. She stared at the blood droplet. The droplet trembled at the tip of her finger, swayed with the slight vibrations of her breath, then hardened, forming a thin layer of dark film on its surface. She stood up. There was a “click” as her kneecaps left the stone surface. Her knee joints suddenly straightened after being in a bent position for so long, causing bones to collide inside the joints. Her legs went numb, and the muscles on the outside of her thighs trembled slightly. She swayed slightly before gaining stability.