Novel & Cerita Dried Blood On Concrete

" Please keep walking straight inside miss. You will reach your destination! " That place was a visible red flag. It was murky. It was stinking. Though I could not tell the smell. When someone living beside a dump yard says that a place stinks, it should not be taken on a light note. I cautiously stepped forward moving the net mesh with my hands. I kept walking and walking till my right foot slid on something. It was very dark so I had to strain my eyes. A crimson streak on the floor. I bent down with trembling hands. I needed to confirm my fear. I needed to know if it indeed was blood that I had stepped on.

I took note of my surroundings. The only thing that this dungeon I was being locked in had was old, tattered, and dirty matter that I was currently sitting on, curled into a small ball. The dungeon looked like it hadn't been cleaned for years. The corners of the floor and the walls were covered in dirt along with huge spider webs, not small but quite big. Only because the floors were covered with dried-up red stains which definitely was blood that had not turned blackish. They must have killed and tortured lots of people here. The thought itself gives me goosebumps all over my body.

He pointed out the front windshield, toward the base of the massive concrete column. ​Vivian leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she followed his gaze. Running right through the center of the four-foot-thick reinforced concrete pillar was a fresh, jagged crack. A tiny, steady stream of dark, muddy groundwater was bubbling out of the fissure, pooling quietly around the front tires of the car. ​The water didn't look clear. It looked black, thick with silt, and it smelled faintly of old iron.

"Look, there seems to be a fight here!" They didn't go far! Suddenly! Next to a deserted building, someone discovered traces of a fight, on which traces of dried black blood were left. "Mm... From the state of the blood, it should have happened in the past few days!" Lie Sha earnestly checked for a moment before replying in an incomparably certain tone.

The cut on her palm still hurt like hell. She succeeded in taking out the woods from the dry red stuff on the ground. She used her fingers to touch it, but there was no stain on her hand "Hmm" she breathed down and began scrapping it with a piece of wood. She gathered the dry red stuff and placed her nose on it, she sniffed it countless times before she could get the actual odor as the damp smell of the room was hovering all over. "Dry blood" she frowned and looked around the places that had the red stuff.

It wasn't a food stain. It was blood. Thick, dark, dried drops of blood, splattered across the cuffs of his trousers in a large frantic pattern.

I bow my head and look at the glass shards shattered on the floor which are stained with my blood, “But please... Let me clean this up for you before I go. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.” As I promise, I slowly squat down on the floor. I wipe the blood off my face with my sleeve, and then I start to pick the glass shards up with my bare head. However, when I collect the glass shards, my blood keeps trickling down and turning them red. My fingers turn red in no time as I touch the glass.

The radio in the dispatch room was on, but just playing static. We found the blood in the hallway near the evidence locker. It wasn’t a splatter, not a spray. It was a drag. A streak of crimson about a foot wide, smearing from the locker room door down the corridor and disappearing into the shadows under the stairwell. No body. No bones. Just that awful smear. Jonie crouched near it and touched the edge. "Dry. Been here a while." "Still smells fresh," Rachelle muttered, covering her nose.

On Blood Immortal Platform. The huge and sharp stone was like a giant beast's bone spike. Anyone who looked at it would shudder. The rough stone platform gave people a feeling of Archean Boorish Desolate. From the steps to the stone platform, to the surrounding boulders, a large amount of blood could be seen everywhere. Some of the bloodstains had dried up and turned dark because of the time. There were also some that were still fresh, revealing shocking redness.

Inside is a dried drop of red liquid that glints strangely. “I took this from the sand in the Obsidian Arena,” Dorian says casually. “What is that?” “They all said no blood was spilled when you defeated the Feral Beast. I quite disagree, to trained eyes, dust cannot hide everything.” A sense of unease creeps over me. “What do you mean?” “Your blood.” Dorian slowly rotates the small vial in his fingers, as if stealing a sample during a deadly trial were nothing unusual. “It is very interesting, Reeve.”