Novel & Cerita Creepypasta Bloody Painter

I suddenly felt a big hammer pounding my head, causing me to hold on to the bed frame and close my eyes because of dizziness. A sudden scene crossed my mind. Inside, the cell with a red werewolf facing Alarick and Convel. “A sanguis.” Both Alarick and Convel said as they were staring at a two-tailed red werewolf. In return, the red werewolf gave them a low growl. Instead of being scared, Alarick and Convel looked fascinated by the sight. The bloody color of the werewolf is shining as well as the two tails it keeps on swaying.

He looked like he was about to say something, but he was cut off when he started coughing violently. He spat out a mouthful of blackened blood. It made for a gruesome sight against the white carpet. Felix stared at the blood in disbelief before he jerked his head up to look at me. "Why?" I set my wine glass down and looked down at him from the tip of my nose. "I'm just fulfilling my responsibility as a mother." Felix's eyes widened when he finally registered my words. The wolfsbane worked quickly, especially since Felix had been caught completely off-guard. It didn't take long before he crumpled to the ground.

Threatening words in red paint would also be scrawled across the walls. "Just you wait, you bitch! Death is coming for you!" At first, I just assumed it was just some kid playing a prank, but with how often this happened, I began to realize something was seriously wrong. A naughty child might toss trash and dead rats in front of my house, but it wasn't likely that they would mail me such terrifying parcels. This was clearly the act of someone gunning specifically for me. The constant harassment of the past few days infuriated me so much that I immediately went to the management and asked to see the surveillance footage. I wanted to see just who that irritating person was, and once I found ou

Lauren couldn't hide the distaste in her gaze as she stepped into my room and glanced around. "Good evening, Lauren." I greeted. "This place looks like a graveyard. Do you have anything against light? Or is it in your nature to hide in your dark web and pull everyone into it as well?" Her insinuation was not missed. Killer. My room was a picture of my mind. Darkness. My wall was a beautiful painting of black and grey. My light was a grey circular bulb. Everything mirrored each other. "God! The things I have to keep up with. Come to dinner when you're ready to leave this death trap." She shut the door on her way.

out of thin air anytime she needed them. She desperately hoped the same would happen this time. The first experience of what they were up against happened the next morning. Seraphine woke up to the sound of commotion coming from outside. She hurriedly threw on her clothes and rushed out of the pack house. People were gathered around, staring, murmuring and pointing at an old woman, Maureen, who seemed to be one of the pack's most respected elders, walking around. Her eyes were completely black, and she had a blank and creepy look on her face as she spoke in a monotone voice that was thicker than possible for a woman, as she kept saying, "The time has come for them to pay for what they have

I’ve found several stains of blood while seeing Papochka entering the home with a gun. There’s a rumour in the house that my Baboo used to paint with human blood. Even the sarcastic and fun-loving Papa Killian often loses his calm and beats the guards to pulp. Still, I’ve seen those people scroll past headlines soaked in blood and sip their coffee. Maybe we’ve all become too comfortable in our indifference, too fluent in detachment. Maybe monsters don’t hide under our beds anymore, they sit beside us, perfectly calm, chewing gum and asking what’s for dinner.

Bastian asks. "Come with me, now." I lead him up to my room. I enter my room. "Since the day it happened, I've only seen one thing. A pair of glowing red eyes. It haunted my nightmares until a series of hypnosis managed to lock the beast away. Until now...." I remove the cloth from the painting I painted a few days ago. "This came to me the day of the pool party." Bastian walked up to the painting slowly. "This was the monster I saw that day." I held myself.

She dumped her plates into the dishwasher, turned it on then ran off to the attic to start. In the attic she placed her paint and brushes on another stool and placed a large canvas on the easel. She was going to start at the left corner with black and white painting first. She sketched out a girl walking her dog down a street, the she used black and white to add shadow and depth to the painting, the dogs tail was painted mid wag and it’s his tongue sticking out. She used two hours on that side, the corner was basically the size of a small canvas, she was planning on having nine different scenes. She sat admiring her work and set it aside to dry. She placed it beside one of the paintings she

nothing was paint splashed across the canvass and my brush scrubs leaving stains everywhere. My canvas was filled with red jargon, I had drew nothing in particular. I stood looking at it in frustration, I wanted to pull my hair out. What was I doing wrong? “Luella!” My mother screamed from inside, I knew something was wrong. I threw my brush and ran inside the in brisk steps. Now I was standing in the living room with blood dripping from my hands not paint anymore My parents laid on the floor holding hands in a pool of their blood I stood staring in shock, I didn’t know who to run to first

On the third day, the dam broke. It started with a single slash of black paint across a pristine white canvas. It was an act of violence, a scream without sound. Then another, and another. He wasn't painting a picture; he was exorcising a demon. He used his hands, knives, rags, anything he could find. The colors were murky, violent: deep burgundy like old blood, sickly yellow like a bruise, charcoal black like a void.