Halloween Bleach Novels & Stories

Blood smears across the carpet, dark streaks that'll never come out. Good thing this place sees worse things than murder. The bathtub is barely big enough, but I manage to fold him inside. His head lolls at an unnatural angle. I turn away, focusing on the next step. Bleach. Lots of it. The motel's supply closet is a joke—just cleaning rags and half-empty bottles. But there's enough bleach to burn away DNA. I pour it over everything: the carpet, the walls, the doorknobs. The chemical smell makes my eyes water.

He gaggled it, trying not to swallow but since he had been held down and his head kept in place, he couldn't throw it out. He ended up in a coughing git. “That was to warn you. That was water.” I dropped the can on the side and picked up the real can of bleach. “This is bleach. I'm sure you can tell.” As I opened the can, the smell filled the room and I saw the way his pupils shook when he smelt it. “Now will you tell me what I want to hear or you'd make me actually do this? I'm sure you know what this would do if I poured it down your throat. From your mouth, down your throat, to your stomach and then everywhere else.”

It just arrived. A red lamp. Dim. Shaky. The air carried a scent that didn’t belong—chemical, clean in a way that felt too intentional. Not lemon oil. Not polish. Something sharper, almost surgical. Bleach, maybe. Or the kind of disinfectant used in places where truth has already been scrubbed away.

Cedric POV The car reeked of bleach, blood, and that sharp, metallic copper smell that always comes with the mess. It was in the air, in the seats, even in the damn leather. I leaned back in the plush seat of the Bentley, pulling off my gloves and wiping my hands with a damp cloth. It didn’t do much. The scent was there, lingering in the fabric no matter how many times I tried to scrub it out. It stuck to everything, a constant reminder of the shit I have to deal with.

he yelled. "Anything else? Shit? Jerk?" Lynn continued laughing. "You can't even cuss, Mahone. How are you going to make an infinite mirror, huh? Listen, you better get out from this damn room, or I am going to call Father. He's in his study room." Mahone put down his safety glasses and stood up, shooting a passionate glance at his project, "Tu es horrible frère!" Lynn heard that and laughed in mind. "Use at least seventy percent alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, bleach, isopropyl alcohol and wipe the sheets with a microfiber cloth. I hope you find the chemicals in your school lab," he moved away from the door.

The me that hated her and her presence in my house and her body filling my shirt and that pussy that was still— “I found the cleaning supplies, Cass, I’m not so sure about the— “, Ice stopped, looked between me and Cassie before he placed some cleaning rag and a bottle of some shit that looked like bleach on the counter. Cassie turned around and I stood still where I was. Ice called her Cass? “Thanks so much, Ice. I really appreciate it, I’m sorry about the mess again” She was telling him, sorry? “It’s my kitchen”, I growled behind her, Red didn’t turn around to face me. “You found the bleach?” she lifted the bottle of supposed found bleach,” this will do, thanks” “You know if you want, I ca

We couldn't just leave two very dead werewolves lying around in our suite or run off to Alpha Leon crying for help when it was very obvious humans had killed them. It took us a few hours to do the dirty work as the last of the remains went down the drain. Rowan found some bleach under the sink, thank God. So as he went to clean his room and the kitchen area of the blood, I still sat here in the bathroom, on the edge of the tub, wearing rubber dishwashing gloves, pouring bleach into the tub and down the drain. Fun times. I hated this shit. Back home, we had clean-up crews for the more nefarious actions, but oh no, out in the field, we had to do this kind of work.

GRACE’S POV The bass from the frat house was a physical thing, pounding against my ribs like a second, shittier heartbeat. I fucking hated Halloween. Hated the cheap costumes, the sticky floors, the whole performative chaos. But my roommate had begged, and I was a sucker. So here I was, “Little Red Riding Hood,” a fucking cliché in a too-short red velvet cloak, trying to get to the bathroom without some drunk asshole spilling his jungle juice on me.

he whispered. Then he heard it. A scream. He stood, already running before the sound ended. --- The Cult’s Offering Near a clearing, torches burned bright. A girl knelt on an altar made of cracked stone, chains around her wrists. Hooded figures chanted in an ancient language, surrounding her with symbols drawn in blood. They raised a dagger—a twisted blade that pulsed like it was alive. Alaric didn’t speak. He didn’t ask questions. He moved like smoke, like death.

"It's a spray called Love Interior Aromatic Room Spray. It has floral notes of neroli, ylang-ylang, and jasmine mixed with spicy notes of vetiver and patchouli for the most romantic scent. It even contains rose quartz crystals for added love energy." "I love the scent." He handed me the bouquet. "Yes. It is indeed beautiful and the scent of the perfume is lovely. It's yours now." "What would you be wearing for Halloween tonight." "The party will take place on Doctor Great's beach house and the theme is scary, right?" "Yes." "I have a skull face costume." "That's nice. The children are wearing cartoon costumes so I bought one for Martin." "Which costume?" "The lion king, that's his favorite c