Bloodstained Apples Novels & Stories

It was a major problem. "Oh, now you're just being stupid! Have you tried making apple-apricot pie before?! It's the best!" "That combination is so ridiculous! And green apples are better!!!" "Just because you don't like it doesn't make it ridiculous! And red apples are better!!!" Apple screamed, pulling at her hair. I rolled my eyes and averted them to my targets. Apple's adorable daughter and Eros, who she stole from my future daughter. She was a replica of Earnest but with her mother's pink hair and eyes, and her parents' chirpy personalities. Well, I couldn't change what had happened. I already lost Eros to her.

My voice came out dry and hoarse, rasping against my throat like sandpaper, the sound barely above a whisper. Vladimir was sitting in a simple plastic chair by the bed, too large for the space, too commanding to belong in a place that reeked of quiet suffering. He stared down at the red apple in his pale hand, turning it over slowly, as if he were dissecting a corpse instead of a piece of fruit. The blade of a small knife flashed faintly in the sunlight that filtered through the plastic curtain, slicing through the crimson skin. The peel curled like thin, wet ribbon, clinging to the white flesh beneath. The apple was mangled, uneven, hacked into submission. I guess he’s not very good at peel

She went directly to the meat store, at the sight of the freshly cut meat and their blood made her gulp. Dawn turned over to calm herself down. She knows that this is not the right place to starve like a werewolf. Once she finally calms herself, she quickly buys meat and she was ready to get out of the market when she saw the apple tall store where their first encounter happened. Unconsciously, she found herself walking towards it, her eyes never leaving the red apples. Putting the plastic bags of the goods she earlier brought on the side, she picks apples. She even smells it before putting it in the bag that the vendor gave to her, and she made sure that all of the apples she’ll buy are all

"Am surprised you're still here. Seemed like you don't value your life anymore?" Mr Eddard licked his dry lips and shut the newspaper before placing it down neatly on the table. He put his legs down and stood on his two feet and spined around to the person standing behind him. He smirked again. "I'm done running Appa Alice Martinez" he replied with hardened eyes, daring and challenging. Madam Appa put on a fake sweet smile as she crossed her hands around her chest, a red hand bag hanged between her fingers, matching her short mini red dress with black heels, showing off her long thin legs, showing off a vide that was below her age.

"Someone took the time to cut off dead branches and rotten berries. If they planted these, there might be other things around here." "Apples," I say, looking over her shoulder. "There are trees and trees of apples." A few yards from the blackberry bushes are over a dozen apple trees. Each one is stall, beautiful, and full of fresh fruit that looks ready to harvest. "We really lucked out with this place."

“W—what is it? What the—?” Several apples hung lifeless from the branches, black-red, some of them oozing their once-sweet juices in putrid syrupy drips. Blessing gaped, unable to take his eyes off them. Two of his hired hands, Gus and Ernesto, stood nearby, pointing up. A ladder lay tipped over at the base of one of the trees. Zeke edged forward, squinting overhead. He started and dropped his pop bottle.

I could have asked my parents to run with me too. I wince as I make one of my cuticles bleed. The longing in my chest thumps along with the pain in my finger and I stare at it. Dark red blood slides down the side of my finger and a wave of tears begins to fall silently down my cheeks. Slowly my finger blurs from my vision and I am lost in my thoughts. Awful memories of Kincaid's pack circle my mind along with snapshots of Atticus's serious face. Terror and grief swirl together inside of me like a tornado.

Although the rain had stopped a few hours ago, the sky had begun to darken and that was clear evidence that the rain was going to pour down again. A little girl could be seen picking small apples that had fallen down the tree that stood tall in the center of a huge Mansion. "Beatrice darling, how many times does mummy have to tell you that picking the fallen apples is bad..do you want to be struck by lightning?" An older woman asked as she walked out of the house to see the little girl down on her knees as she picked them carefully. "But mummy, the apples are fresh." "Sweetie, this is food for the dead not for the living." Her mother said, and the little girl's eyes widened.

And the dining hall erupted in laughter. "Oh my god. Callum. What do I do with youuu". Stephen was laughing and Callum facepalmed. He called for trouble himself. ************* They were in their office. Free from today's schedule. Saint had prepared different glasses of blood. Callum sniffed all. They all had a faint whiff of Stephen blood. They all were enjoying their drinks, looking for the reaction. Callum took each glass. One by one. He would sniff and then take a sip.. He would cut down the taste with water. Then another. Finally he picked one. He took one sip and another and another. His eyes shone crimson as he licked his blood strained lips.

As she passed her phone to her colleague, I snatched the phone from her and watched the livestream. It was Arya. She was in an orchard, basking under the heat of the sun, and standing on her tiptoes to reach the apples on the branches. She, without any makeup on, wore a simple cotton dress and had her hair tied back in a ponytail. Her skin had been tanned into a rich, wheat-gold color. She smiled at the camera and began her narration, “These Honeycrisp apples are perfect for making pies. My grandfather has grown them for thirty years…”