Bloody Mary Scary Novels & Stories

She had never seen someone die in such a brutal way. Mary had told her everything that was wrong with her and she was hoping Eleanor could do something to save her but Eleanor didn't. Eleanor cried out on the ground, soaked with Mary's blood. Her hands, her face…everything was full of blood and she had no idea what to do. She has never seen so much blood before and she felt so irritated and scared. She looked around like she was looking for clues on what to do, that was until she heard a bang on the restroom door and looked back.

Mary said sarcastically with her hands to her mouth. "Ahhh, blood," Stella's eyes rolled upwards as she fainted from shock.

Lucy ran to her room panting heavily this is strange she has never seen Darina react like that and that red-eye is the devil's eyes the eyes that crave vengeance and blood. She ran towards her room with great speed when she got to the entrance of the door she fall flat on the floor her body trembling in fear. "Mara...Mara" she screamed in a loud voice her eyes holding an expression of fear. "Just then a young lady that was blind walked out of the room with a stick in her hands"

And this is all his doing. I turn on my side and sigh dreamily, then I hear someone call my name. I sit up quickly. A gasp leaves my lips. It's Mary. She's standing by the door, and her face looks...awful. Her eyes are swollen and oddly, they're terrifyingly black. Like there are no whites in her eyes. I narrow my eyes at her. Her sleeping gown is covered in blood. "Mary?" I say. Or want to say. My tongue is too heavy and I wish to say her name but don't know if I've succeeded. Why is she covered in blood? Why are her eyes like this?

That was way better than just waiting for them to strike. Maria had the blanket over her face just below her eyes. Ann had her head on my shoulder. She had managed to squeeze herself between the couch and me. She was tough but when it came to horror movies she was a sissy girl just like the rest of us. “What is she doing, run don’t wait for him!” Ann screamed at the screen. “He’s in the shadows can’t she see him!” Maria was screaming at the screen too. “Of course not, she’s too busy helping him…arrgh, there he is!”

Rebecca’s clear gaze fell on Mary, and their eyes locked on for a brief moment before Mary let out a terrified scream, as if she had seen something unholy. The scream had been particularly ear-piercing, and it had even caused Angela to furrow her brow. "What's going on? Did you see a ghost?" But this question only made Mary react even more intensely. Mary rolled her eyes in fright and fainted on the spot, shocking everyone in the room. Serena, unable to support Mary's weight, nearly stumbled over her. Angela hurried over with a concerned expression. "What happened? Why did Mary suddenly faint?" In contrast to the nervousness of Angela and Serena, the other people in the room remained much ca

Chapter 67 _______________ * * Writer's POV…. All she felt while staring at Mary was rage and a seemingly untamable desire to rip her head off - Daciana had never for once in her entire life crave to kill someone as she did right now. Mary, however, was scurrying on the floor, not in fright but nervousness. Though she's now a supposedly elite magician, she's still afraid of Daciana. Her dark aura is something that sticks to her openly and displeases Mary so fucking' much.

They just couldn’t leave me alone could they, my demons. Squeezing my eyes shut, the recent nightmare came flooding back. Something bad had happened and I hadn’t been able to stop it. Bloom was lying in my arms. There was a hole in her belly like something had yanked our pup out of her, a pool of blood around her throat. She was dead. I shook her but there was no response. Her eyes were wide open and lifeless, and her skin was death-cold. Then I roared in anger and when I looked down again, it wasn’t Bloom anymore. It was Maria. Maria with an arrow deep in her chest like the day she died.

Sara. My breath caught in my throat as I saw the scene before me. The vibrant color of blood oozing onto the white carpet sent a shiver down my spine, and the metallic scent filled the room, making me dizzy with fear. Her body lay crumpled on the once-luxurious carpet, the rich crimson of her blood seeping into its fibers. Her limbs twisted unnaturally, her face locked in a silent scream. But it was the knife—deep, jagged, and still embedded in her chest—that burned into my mind. The air left my lungs as I took a step forward. “Sara,” I whispered, the word barely audible. My heart clenched as memories of her kindness, her sacrifices, collided with the brutal reality before me.

“And I suppose that could be true, although it seems to me you could say just as easily that they’re worthless because they revel in exploiting human depravity. Have you seen many of these films, Detective? They’re not only violent, they’re sadistic. Nothing but a parade of bodies being destroyed in every imaginable way. And they’re mostly women’s bodies. You don’t need to be a psychologist to see that they seem more like sick power fantasies than— I don’t know what you’d call it.” “Catharsis?” I offered. She softened a little more, and allowed another wry smile. “You really have been talking to James.” I smiled back. “Then I suppose it’s safe to assume you’re not planning on going to James’