Cursed Womb Death Painting の小説・ストーリー

"Goodnight Asami. Go to bed." If I was to guess her reaction, I'd say she's smiling. "Well, if you insist, I shall." The call ended. I stood up and walked to the window. In the portrait by the window is where the flash drive is, according to S. My fine red curtains blew toward me as a result of the breeze. Just a bit far from my window but on the same wall is a weird, large canvas portrait painted in Van Gogh's artstyle. It's of a weeping woman with a dead baby in her hand. The naked baby is bleeding as a knife is stuck in it's chest and both the woman and he baby are in the belly of a fierce looking cobra.

She was gonna go after all of them even their families and pull out their ball sockets from each of them. She died with that hatred and disgust in her chest, and as life could have it, when she died and cross over to the path she was sent back saying it was not yet her time and besides she was cursed. All those words were like a joke to her but funny was that she woke up in that same nobody of hers. She was confused at first and was also afraid. She met people crossing over in that paths at Afterlife but it was rather not for her, and also that man in white told her that it was not yet her time and she was cursed, what does that mean? The thought came pouring down her head.

He stretched forth his left hand, he had a ring on his index finger, and we were asked to kiss it. When I thought it was all over, a painting was brought in by some men, it was covered so they took off the cloth and that’s when i saw the image clearly, Ursa Mortis..the bear of death, it was a masterpiece drawing. The Don bowed in respect and we followed too, even when we didn’t know what we were doing. We followed our Master.

Suddenly, from the corner of the room, their mother’s voice rose in a broken wail. “Carla! Don’t take one of my children. It’s just me… It’s just me. Don’t make them suffer!” The plea cut through the air like a knife, raw and pleading. Their mother’s eyes were wide with terror, her bound hands twisting against the ropes as she rocked back and forth. The name “Carla” hung in the room like a summoned ghost, a tangible thread linking the present torment to the sins of the past. Eloise and Elena exchanged a glance heavy with shared dread—the curse was stirring again, drawing closer, its tendrils reaching for what little they had left.

The type for a special meeting, and not for a special kill. I sat on a long bench facing a huge painting on the wall. A tray of cinnamon tea was set beside me. I distracted myself from the woman that would soon be present in this room in a minute by staring into the huge painting on the wall—an oil on canvas piece of art. It illustrated dark romanticism. Blood moonlight and a roaring fire ignite the mouth of a cave. A narrow, rocky bridge stretches across a gorge, illustrating a perilous crossing while light pours from a fiery cave opening on the right. In the background, a soft glow of crimson moonlight contrasts with the fiery light, enhancing the dark apocalyptic atmosphere. On that narro

I had figured that demons were more isolated creatures and it only made me more curious about them. The room was massive in a rectangular shape to fit the table and filled with numerous paintings and art, all different depictions of the underworld. Some had gore and torture painted, another one appeared to be of Adam and Eve and the serpent that convinced them to eat the forbidden fruit, the largest of the paintings was on the longest wall of the room and it looked to be of a war. Men with iron swords and shields clanging against each other and lightning bolts striking numerous fighters, the sight gave me goosebumps as I realized I was looking at a painting of Zeus and his brothers.

Czar scoffed, “Have you tried telling her? She’d readily given you her blood, even as a stranger, why do you think she wouldn’t do it now if she finds out that her father was responsible for so many deaths ten years ago? Including that of your parents?” Stopping right in front of my study, I shrugged the mahogany doors open, walking into the room. I glanced at the mural sprawled on the wall, that had a hand painted drawing of the first wolf rising from the ashes of the Moon goddess’s pyre. Glows from a full moon resting just atop of the goddess’s halo, snaked its way around her arms, piercing through her skin while black blood dripped out of her open wounds.

"Because if you come back, they'll kill you. And if they kill you, no one will ever try again." "I am not coming back. The police are coming, and when I'm leaving we are all leaving together. You, Mira, Lily and my mother." She didn't say a word again and we just kept walking. —·—·—·— We arrived at the seventh wing… the walls here were filled with paintings of women, with bodies twisted into shapes… a very inhuman sight. And then I saw it, at the end of the wall. A very peculiar painting of a young girl with no face, it was just blank skin where her features should be. Her hands were clasped, she was draped in a white dress.

The heavy curtains filtered the morning light into a blood-red hue. Everything in the room was black or crimson. The desk. The carpet. Even the towering shelves lined with ancient, dustless books. But it was the painting that made my breath catch. A monstrous figure loomed from its canvas, some grotesque creature, neither man nor beast, its form twisted with horns and wings. It stood atop a mound of broken bodies, its talons dug into golden-skinned figures that looked like gods. Their faces were frozen in agony, eyes wide, as if they'd never seen death coming.

The color scheme of the bedroom was dark and intimidating, with shades of white, black, burgundy, and gold. “My apartment is half your room.” As she came off his lap, her eyes wandered around until they landed on the painting on the wall. The image of the woman dying in her lover’s arms while the other woman is pointing a gun at them froze her in place. The painting had a mysterious aura that drew her in. There was something about it that made her insides shiver. Sebastian chuckled as he hopped off the bed and reached behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and planted a kiss on her shoulder. “I can’t wait to have you again!” he whispered.