Blood Splatter On Wall Novels & Stories

He quickly dodged the plant, jumping to the side as it smashed against the wall behind him. As the potted plants hit the wall and the floor, the impact caused the pots to shatter into pieces, spilling soil all over Ragnar's chambers. The soil scattered everywhere, some sticking to the walls and some clinging to the carpet, creating a dirty mess. The soil was damp and heavy, and it spread across the floor in a lumpy, disorganized pattern. Small rocks and chunks of dirt from the soil were also scattered throughout the chamber, making it a hazardous place to walk.

Miqella wasted no time; his hands burst open the door. And I choked back the tears that sprung in my eyes as the overwhelming smell of blood shot from the open passageway. Crimson covered the walls, seeping down in fresh splatters. So fresh that it hadn’t coagulated at all, plopping in wet puddles from the ceiling as if it was a leak instead of blood. In the center of the room, I could make out half of a body. Mangled and twisted, their chest cavity had been ripped clean open.

“That’s not wind.” Noah swallowed hard. “Maybe it’s just debris—” The next sound cut him off. A low, gurgling growl — unmistakable. “Positions,” I whispered. We moved quickly. I took the front, Kira flanking me with silent, practiced steps. The others stayed back. Lightning flashed through the high windows, illuminating the far end of the warehouse. That’s when I saw it. A smear of blood on the wall — fresh, bright red, and moving.

On what was spotless, marble tile was now having drips of blood splattering onto its floor. I moved out from Victor's protective embrace to see that it was him that was bleeding. The crimson red fluid streamed down his face from his forehead where the glass had hit him. "Victor…?" My voice was barely above a whisper as I fixated on the injury he'd sustained. He looked up at me with questioning eyes, as if I'd gone crazy. After a few beats, it seemed like his body was finally catching up to what had happened, as he suddenly collapsed to the floor.

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.

I tried to look through the dust but all I could do was cough and my eyes were blinded from all the debris lingering in the air. Breathless, Lorenzo answered, "No! Not yet, but pearl all I can see is blood, Lots of it” I froze as I turned a corner, blood, does that mean? My body quivered in fear as I stepped into a pool of red thick blood. It soaked into the white tile in a pool, still warm. The wall was marred with smudged handprints that looked like someone trying to crawl. Iron, smoke, and something worse clung to the air.

Dark, gruesome blotches that hadn't been there before my departure painted a messy mural across the weathered stone walls and floor; the source of the overwhelming smell. Her cell door hung wide open, unlocked. As I stepped inside, my eyes took in every detail of the scene, desperately searching for any clues on what could have possibly happened. There was clear evidence of a violent scuffle from how the dried blood had smudged and streaked across the floor. Someone, the hunter most likely, had been dragged roughly over the stone, through her own blood.

Behind me, one of the guards gagged softly. My wolf snarled violently inside my head. For one brief second, even I stopped breathing. Then I stepped inside. And froze. The room looked like madness itself had crawled across the walls. Blood covered everything. The white walls. The floor. The ceiling. Not random splashes. Arranged. Placed carefully. Like artwork. Pieces of flesh hung from nails hammered into the walls. Torn muscle stretched across wooden frames. Entrails dripped slowly from ceiling hooks while dark blood gathered beneath them in thick puddles.

Searching the room for answers, I find two chairs flipped over and a lamp on the floor in pieces. What the fuck happened now? I rub my face and with a sigh, before I walk towards the 'living room' knowing everyone will be there since it's the only room with a television. On my way, I see a mess everywhere and on one of the walls, there's a weird red liquid dripping down-Shit. Fuck, what did they do? Fuck. I follow the messy trail of blood to the end. Before I make the last turn I pause at the sound of voices yelling.

I reached the doorway first and I stopped. The air rushed out of my lungs. No. No, no, no. The crib was empty. The blankets were tossed onto the floor, stained and crumpled like someone had ripped them away in a hurry. The mattress, soaked in blood. And the walls…. My breath caught. The walls were covered in claw marks, deep and jagged, like something had torn through them in a frenzy. Dark streaks of blood smeared across the surface, handprints dragging downward as if someone had fought—fought and lost.