Gambar Pisau Ada Darahnya Novels & Stories

I pick up the dagger; the sleek, curved blade glints dangerously in the firelight, the handle is black gold encrusted with red rubies, and where the blade meets the hilt there is a small sphere containing… “Is that blood?” “Yes. My blood, in fact.” I look at him speechless, not only because he has given me his blood but also because the design of the blade is so similar to my mothers; hers was silver and blue, containing water, whereas mine is black and red, containing blood, but the rest is almost exactly the same. I can’t stop the tears that begin falling, “Samael, I- thank you so much, this is… amazing.”

In the field, it appears that in the middle there is a well-built man standing with one hand supporting a large sword that seems to be stuck in the ground. The blade dripped blood into the grass, making the grass on the ground turn from green to red. Not far from where the sword was stuck, there was a severed head with bulging eyes lying on the ground. The body of the severed head turned out to be quite close to the burly man.

I can feel the blood trickling down the column of my throat, down my chest, and beads of blood rolling beneath my shirt. I refuse to call out at the small pain and instead glare at the evil man. He brings the knife up to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the blood that coats the tip of the dagger. His eyes turn from the deep lifeless black, glazing over into a smoky grey as he licks the blade clean. I have no idea what’s going on, but I look to my side and see Twenty-Nine licking his lips watching his master with greedy mustard color eyes. As if he too wants a taste of my blood.

I looked around but could see a man in black and black somewhere and it made me a little scared but I gathered my courage and looked down at my basket to check if anything was missing from the products I picked out. I saw a letter covered in red colour, it wasn't just any kind of red, it was the blood kind of red; it looked like they had dipped it under red paint and raised it after it had absorbed the colour. This made me scared so I dropped all the baskets immediately in fear. I knelt on the floor and picked up the letter while my hands and my body shook. I opened it up slowly until it was fully opened, all it contained was a blood stain and a picture of a knife piercing through the chest

His breath was hot against my face, and I grinned. “Saving your life, Your Majesty,” I said, my smile widening. Darius shoved me away. He stumbled back, and when he raised his hand—the hand that had caught the blade—I saw something that made my blood run cold. The blood dripping from his palm wasn’t red. It was black. The black liquid spread across his skin in dark veins, twisting like webs. “Curses,” he muttered under his breath as he collapsed to his knees, groaning in pain. Swords were drawn. Eyes turned toward me.

I knew for sure that this day was my death, just had to wait for the painless wound. A man carrying a machete stared at me with a red eye then started slowly towards me , his machete dripped of blood, his hand tied with a scarf. Everything about him reflected “death”. I could not bear the thought of being hitched to death, it was surely not the painless death that I had prayed to come.

He found a steel-ball scrub and turned on the tap, starting to scrub the sword. It was all in vain. The rust could not be scrubbed off. What’s happening? He used his entire strength to clean it, but the sword remained rusty. He was about to give up—thinking the sword was worthless—when he accidentally cut himself. “F*ck!” Darryl swore. How is the sword still so sharp, even though it’s rusted? His blood dripped onto the sword. SHIIIING! Instantly, the blood was absorbed by the sword. It started to glow with a blood-red hue.

Each had on a hand-stitched gown of the finest quality made by demons. Arisa's was a long flowing gown which shimmered in the light. The colors of her gown were red and purple. Red signified that she was a blood partner while purple signified royalty, meaning she was MY blood partner. Liz's dress was nice and puffy, at her request, and had the colors purple and white. Purple, she was now a Dark Princess, and white signified purity, AKA, she's single.

"He can't hear you over the sound of your own death." He started the downward swing. I didn't have a sword. I didn't have a shield. I had the wolf-blood. I reached out and grabbed the blade. The poisoned steel sliced deep into my palms. I felt the acid eating into my flesh. I felt the paralysis creeping up my wrists. But I didn't let go. I squeezed. "What—what are you doing?" Lucas’s eyes went wide. He tried to pull the sword back, but I held on. My blood hit the floor. It wasn't red anymore. It was a dark, pulsing silver.

“What exactly are you truly talking about now, Stan?” He absolutely didn’t answer right away. His hand shook violently as he pulled his phone from his pocket, his thumb anxiously fumbling with the screen. Then he suddenly shoved it toward me quickly. I took it from him, and my breath instantly hitched. The awful photo intensely staring back at me absolutely wasn’t just a simple knife—it was something much worse and darker. The blade was jagged, pitch black, and it gave off a faint, eerie glow even in the picture, like it absolutely wasn’t just metal but something alive somehow.