Bloodstained Apples Novels & Stories

he says, utterly casually; as though it were perfectly normal for him to be undoing one of Stella's shackles. Stella can only gape. She doesn't understand. "You're too injured to use your Gift too effectively anyway," Lincoln says, tossing something in Stella's direction. She catches it on instinct. She looks down and finds an apple in her hand; bright, shiny red, gleaming under the torchlights. She looks back up at Lincoln, who's munching cheerfully on his own apple, back to the wall once more in his usual position. Stella slowly looks back down at the apple, uncomprehending.

HANNAH Alex’s car screeches to a halt, and we tumble out onto the bloodstained grounds of the Sky pack territory. I gasp in horror, my eyes widening as I take in the carnage surrounding us. Broken bodies litter the earth - men, women, even children, their limbs contorted at grotesque angles. Pools of crimson spread outward, staining the grass a deep, violent red.

An uncertain feeling rose within me, and each time my eyes raked the scenery, the feeling ignited. “I'm in the kitchen,” I said with clenched jaws. Moving past them and into the kitchen, Zero sat on a stool, a knife and an apple stayed in his hands. I watched him peel. The knife carved through the apple, the peel falling in thin strips into the tray. Without warning, the knife sliced into his fingers. Blood splattered on the apple. His hands shook, veins stretched through it. Zero didn't care. He kept peeling as the blood stained the whitish part of the apple.

Aria's breath caught in her throat. The woman's mouth opened and a low sound gurgled out — not words. Not a scream. Something wet and slow, like she was drowning on dry land. Then came the blood. Thick and dark. It poured from her lips like it had been waiting, sliding down her chin in a slow, steady stream. Someone gasped behind Aria. "Oh my god," a man said softly. A vendor dropped a box of apples. They hit the pavement with soft, wet thuds.

Xavier's lips quivered as if he was trying to get his voice out but it failed him. I stretched my fingers and gripped his shoulders. “Have a seat,” I urged and he followed my words. After he took a seat, I inched towards the refrigerator and as I gripped it's knob, it made a low chime. The door to the refrigerator pulled open and the first thing that caugh my eyes were non other than apples. Those. Red. apples. Their bright red color shimmered under the blue lighting in the room. Its glow was in sharp contrast with the outer color which gave it a power over one's attention.

She turned to her, but Scarlett just tilted her head toward the nearby table—where apples were piled high like a mountain. All of them had hearts on them.

With a comical gasp, she exclaimed, "Oh, is that crimson stew? I've heard so much about it!" Her eyes lit up with excitement as she leaned in, eager to share her knowledge. "Crimson stew is more than a dish; it's a culinary masterpiece born from vampire heritage. The key ingredient is crimson venison—meat from magical deer with a reddish hue, echoing the night's mystique. Marinated in rare herbs and spices, slow-cooked in centuries-old wine, and infused with drops of vampire essence, it's a taste of history and tradition, a connection to a world beyond our own." She describes the dish perfectly just like an expert connoisseur.

"You're feeling better, I see," "Not exactly," he said, switching to a very disturbing flirty innocent smile. "I woke up and suddenly had this strong craving for apples, but no matter how many apples I ate, I couldn't help but feel like it wasn't the apple I craved for. Then I remembered, there's only one apple scent that drives me crazy, the only female who is a living version of Eve's apple. So, here I am, to get a taste of that apple to confirm if it's the same."

Genevieve poured the basket of apples to the floor, searching frantically for where the sender might have hidden the secret message she wanted to send with the gift. Successful, she picked the tiny folded paper that fell off with the apples. With shaky hands, she opened it. "KARMA WILL COME AT YOU REAL FAST" That was all written in, with blood, and in capital letters, as if the person was sending a hex to her. She shredded it and put in the basket, picking up the apples into the basket as well. Next, she carried the basket full of the apples and threw it to the trash can near her as his walked down the passage way.

But not just any knife. It gleamed like darkness itself. The blade was matte silver, but its edges were rough and ghostly, coated in something... darker. Grayish ash shimmered like ancient dust baked into the metal. A black leather handle with inscriptions no one could read. I felt it. That knife had taken lives. “This,” the auctioneer began, voice low now, “is known as ‘The Veinpiercer’. It was used to kill the last Alpha—thrice stabbed into his heart under the Blood Moon War. The blade is believed to be cursed... or blessed, depending on who holds it.”