Bloody Painter Novels & Stories

The tears that had also mixed with the paint I had used to make this art, the art that was made out of my own pain and heartbreak. I lifted my hand, my fingers hovering over his dark form, the only thing that gave away that it was Cole was the slash of moonlight on his right brow and the highlight of the right side of his face. That square jawline and the hint of stubble on it. And one more thing, his hand holding a delicate jaw of the female figure lying under him. Me. It was me. The whole painting was black and white, and various shades of grey. The darkness of it had resembled the same dark emotions brewing inside me while I had painted it. But there was one color that I didn’t mute. The

she snapped, “I need to get back the shop before the boss has my head. Is this about the Bloody Barbies again?” Bloody Barbie was the nickname Maria gave to the murders ever since she’d gotten involved as a suspect. It was an apt name. Each crime scene that had been investigated was painted red with each victim’s blood, and in each one there would be a bloody doll left behind (though, not exactly a Barbie), no less than three feet away from the body.

He had been one of the most wanted serial killers in history, which alone was a significant title, judging by the lengths he had gone. "I need the image fast, Malcolm. I need to find whoever had done this..." I said as Malcolm nodded, sketching the man's image further. I sat down as some minutes passed by, with my eyes glancing around the paintings, knowing they were made with the victims' blood and were still the bestsellers on the market, with the buyers craving such paintings. "I'm done." A voice jolted me back as I watched Malcolm approach my side. "He seems really great for my taste, but it's sad that i can't have him, or can I, Dominic?" Malcolm questioned. But this man, whoever he was

I remarked and Kyler chuckled. “The pictures you sent me through the mindlink were wow ! Are you an artist in painting bodies with blood ? The precision of the cuts and the streams of oozing blood were too accurately done !! I could swear you were sending me the images of a painting if I had not seen your victims walking and talking for real ! The artwork was beautiful but gory,” Kyler said with a shudder. “I know you paint red better, babe,” I snorted as I thought back about Kyler’s victims tonight. All of them had been left hanging on a tree and I swear, I would have loved to turn that tree into a Xmas one if he had used actual decorations instead of corpses.

"The pull that could create." Nikolai was quiet for a moment. "Yes," he said. "I am." "What specifically," I said. "Break it down." "That it gives him something we cannot," Nikolai said. "A history that is not soaked in everything this world carries. A person who knew his mother. A person who has no blood on his hands connected to his family. A clean thread backward." "Our hands have blood connected to his family," I said. "Yes," Nikolai said. "That is exactly what I mean. It creates a contrast that matters."

She wondered in the hallway, there was no trace of Vlad. She stopped by huge painting, she couldn't understand what is it. For her it's just colors. "It's a blood!" She flinched, getting caught off-guard By Ivan, Vladimir's Brother. "What?" She frowned. She can't even imagine that a painting which is coloured with blood is hanging openly in this mansion. What kind of sadist people stays here. He chuckled mischievously. "Just kidding... It's painted by my father, he is such an artist... The only thing he is an expert in, except having affairs with multiple women at the same time."

( I inquired In a scared tone and met nothing but silence) My hands were pinned to the wall and I could feel the eyes of a stranger staring at me. "Can you please speak up?" I copied back my words. The stranger tugged my hair behind my ears and left still not being able to alter a single word. "Weird" I felt and left In a hurry only to fall my eyes to a bloodstain message on the wall, which reads, "life is full of ups and downs and at the end, we all have to pay for the crimes we committed, I am coming for you brother, get ready".

He descended upon the Blood-born like a falling mountain. His massive, calloused hands slammed into the creature's neck. With a strength born of pure, desperate madness, Riheirk tore the massive Blood-born away from Solar, lifting the two-hundred-pound monster entirely into the air before slamming it violently into the granite rock face. The rock shattered. The Blood-born let out a horrific screech, but Riheirk was already past the point of reason. His deep blue eyes had bled into a terrifying, consuming obsidian, his vampire fangs fully extended, gleaming with a deadly, predatory light. He pinned the creature down, his large hands ripping into its throat, tearing flesh from bone with his ba

"If this artist makes your heart sing, then fly with him. I'll always be here, your safe harbour if the skies get rough." She squeezed my hand, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. "You're the best brother a girl could ask for, Alex. Always pushing me to chase my dreams, even when you're scared to chase your own." My own throat tightened. The shadows in my life, the web of violence I was entangled in – they were shackles I couldn't break, not while she was in my orbit. "Maybe you're right," I admitted, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "Maybe it's time I painted my own masterpiece. Not on canvas, but in life."

CRIMSON “Do you know the story of the bloody werewolf rogue that was killed by his alpha? Do you know about that rogue that was hated by all of his pack and all the other packs that no one wanted him at all? Are you familiar with the story, child?” an old woman asked me while giving me a serene smile on her lips.