Bloody Crayons Novels & Stories

Arjun said standing up again making her eyes shine in happiness. (Translation: Wait, I have better crayons than that. I'll give them to you.) "Colour?" She asked him excitedly forgetting all the gloominess away. (Translation: Crayons?) "Haan colour." He said confirming her words and went back to his study table. (Translation: Yes crayons.) Rummaging through the study table's lowest drawer he fished out a new packet of crayons and walked back to the bed handing her the packet. She looked at him innocently wanting to know if she could colour with them.

At least I couldn’t feel it squelching between my fingers anymore. When my wrinkled fingers were raw and the floor was clean, I gathered up the dripping crayons and promptly dumped them inside the crib that I turned into a tip. Everything that had belonged to them was thrown onto the pile before being tied off with the sheet and heaved onto the dump outside.

Another student added, "But who would want to frame her then?" Just then, the classroom door creaked open. Mr. Clark, the art teacher, poked his head in. "Sorry for the interruption," he greeted Mr. Haggerty, who had been silent this whole time. "I came to ask if anyone has seen my rare calligraphy marker. I can't seem to find it anywhere." Damien turned to face the teacher. "What did this marker look like exactly, sir?" Mr. Clark furrowed his brow as he described it. "Well, it has an extra-fine tip for precise strokes and is a deep crimson red color."

I feel dirty after not having had a bath in a few days because my hairs were becoming rough. " Want to Bath " He said " Perhaps I'd bath later because we are going now " He brings the paint bowl over to me. "Let me paint you," he murmurs, holding out the bowl. I look at the liquid inside of the bowl and cringe. It's red and thick looking. "Is it berry juice?" I ask. Cesar snorts. "Deer's blood." I hold back the vomit threatening to come up the back of My throat. "I'm not putting Deer's blood on me," I say Definitely.

Ella says taking the blue crayon and making everyone laugh. "Miss Bee! You have a white crayon," Raphael says making us all laugh. "Daddy, white cwayons don't draw," Wissa corrects him. "But it's a snow theme, it should be white," Raphael says with a shrug. "I'll get you a white one," Miss Bee says playing along with him, getting him a white crayon and handing it to him.

"Dignity, girl don't play with me. I know the guy you're talking about. It's that hunk who's always coming to the cafe these days. Fuck dignity, friend, if I could get him, I'll do him anytime any day" "He's a vampire" "Wow, kinky" Gracie purred and drank her shot. "This never gets old". "I think I am done. This is disgusting" she said setting her glass down, feeling out of it when a burning tingling sensation broke out over her arm and traveled all over her skin causing her to moan out before she could stop herself.

The ground began to shake, the sky was covered with dark crimson shades, spreading rapidly. The top cracked, displaying abysmal darkness. It was a large crack in the sky showing the sky will crack to take the sinners to their worst nightmares. Thick, maroon coloured blood began to drip from it, it was rotten by one’s own sins, dripping continuously. Frightening everyone by the thick consistency of it.

S e r a p h i n a The reception venue is a converted warehouse in Tribeca that my mother transformed into something that looks like it costs twice what it does, which has always been Elena Conti's specific genius. Candles everywhere. Dark florals — deep red roses and black calla lilies, my mother compromised on the traditional and the gothic and somehow landed on something that looks intentional and stunning. Circular tables draped in black linen. An open bar that Fergus Callahan located within approximately forty-five seconds of arrival,

I felt the purple fire in my blood rush into the pen. "You can't use that!" the boy hissed. "Only the Author can use the Master Pen!" "I am the Author of my own pain!" I yelled. I stabbed the pen into the white paper floor. I didn't write a word. I just poured all my hate, all my love, and all my revenge into the ink. I imagined a world where there were no wires. I imagined a world where shadows had no teeth. A giant crack appeared in the paper. It wasn't black ink that came out it was a blinding, sapphire light. The light hit the gold wires holding Bryan, melting them instantly. He fell forward, the black tape on his mouth dissolving into smoke.

Flesh curled back and blood gushed out in a torrent, quickly creating a dark red stain on the ground. “Zoey Stone, you little troublemaker!”