Bloody Crayons Novels & Stories

It swelled and its color morphed into crimson. The next second, the rat busted into red liquid. Ryan and Grey pushed back, almost startled. “What the hell?” Ryan exclaimed. “Did that rat just implode?” Ryan added, his eyes almost exploding from the socket. If he didn't see it, he wouldn't believe it. “Yes,” Grey answered softly. He sounded shocked. “What the hell is in her blood?” Grey lifted the glass cup which had a remnant of her thick crimson blood. He examined it again as if he would see something new.

“We were told to paint a flower with our crayons and mine was the prettiest.” “Oh really?” She bobbed her head excitedly. “Yes! I used the yellow, green, and red crayons and the other kids were sooo jealous.” She giggled happily. “My teacher wouldn’t let me bring the picture home thought so I told daddy to take a picture of it with his phone so he could show it to you.” She explained. My heart glanced at Dylan momentarily and my heart leaped in my chest. “Daddy come here.” She ushered him forward with her hand. “Come and show the picture to Hera.”

Please let my sister go she cried Don't you dare say that again cause he can't do me anything Crystal said to Karen No stop it Crystal let's beg him to free us, I can't allow anything happen to you Karen cried Crystal, what a beautiful name that fits the owner Lamia exclaimed Little girl stop crying, I won't hurt your sister I promise Lamia told Karen and she believed him and stand to her feet and smiled at Lamia Lamia loosen his hold on Crystal and she dragged her hand and gave Lamia a bad look You should not try that next time cause it's dangerous beauty, you smell human but always lie about being a vampire I smell human? Crystal asked and fear gripped her

Shades of red, brown and black diademed the canvas, yet not getting mixed together, as if they harboured misogyny. The form became more vivid as the lifeless colours brought life in the painting. And then, like a gentle stroke of a fine paintbrush on the canvas, an obnoxiously metallic smell of blood wafted in my nostrils. Blood! The colours swirled and turned into something more vivid. I could see the form clearly now. I scrunched up my nose as the smell of fresh blood became more intense, almost unbearable. I walked to the figure through the blur and hollow, my instinct telling me to stop.

Oh, you never fail to amaze me, Crimson. ⚘ little ⊹ lies ··································································································································

SHE said that she wanted more, so the young man gave her that. But at that moment, his gentle tongue that tenderly caresses her femininity is gone. Instead, Jason's tongue became like a burning coil. Just a glowing coil of a paintbrush that smears insane but earnest happiness into her femininity. And that gave her reason to let out a series of growls and suppressed screams.

Still standing she reached for the pocket of her grey skirt. Beaming with a sinister smile she'd aim for that using a dart pin. There was a long pause and a heaving sigh as it hit that small balloon . A red sticky liquid splattered and stained the immaculately white board. "No harm done it's just flour diluted in water with red dye to create a sticky consistency." She reassures them that gripped their hearts in fear instead of peace. "Don't worry it will be real blood next time. Try pulling that stunt again and I swear I'll make you write ' I'm sorry I'll never do it again... ' with your own blood. Fair enough, I would be thoughtful enough to cut your index finger then I will watch you wr

"I know darling I'm sorry she's not here anymore, but you are allowed to have another mummy if you want." Katie finished with the blue crayon sliding it back into the packet. "Auntie Andrea said she wouldn't come back," she perused the crayons and picked a yellow one for the next claw. Gabriel watched as she stuck her tongue between her lips as she concentrated on not going over the outline. "I don't want her to come back."

But there was something in the way she observed, it concerned me. “Can you tell me which crayon is red?” I asked, placing a small box on the low table during a color-identification exercise. Blue hesitated. Her fingers hovered uncertainly above two similar shades. She chose the darker one. “That’s brown,” another child blurted out. Blue’s shoulders tensed. I crouched beside her immediately. “There’s no rush,” I murmured. “Take your time.” She frowned at the crayons, tilting her head slightly. “They look the same,” she said softly.

I said gently, wrapping my finger. She giggled. “No, he is! He gave me this crayon box. Ask Jimmy if you don’t believe me.” She showed me her drawing: five figures. “That’s you in pink, Daddy in black, me in yellow, Jimmy in blue... and—” “And who’s this one in red?” I asked. “Why are there horns? Is that blood, Luna?” Before she could answer, Elane walked in. Luna quickly hid the sketchpad behind her back.