Irony Pictures Novels & Stories

’’ I looked at the inscription to make sure that I didn’t read it wrongly. I heaved a deep sigh as I stared at the pictures. ‘’what is this trying to tell me?’’ I questioned myself and then I turned the pictures backward and that was when I saw it. There was writing at the back. The first picture that had the wife’s picture had writing that said ‘’you killed,’’ I paused and turned the picture of the boy and I saw another writing. ‘’a mother and son,’’ I read it out and by then, my hands were already trembling. The last picture has all their pictures had another writing. ‘’you ruined the family!’’ the writing was all in red letters, a way of telling me that I deserved to be punished after I h

However, she didn't see any reason why she should concern herself with what happened to strangers. "You gotta try harder to change my mind." She looked up at him. "Look at the last picture." Alexander replied. Athena did what he said and abruptly stopped. Her breath was caught in her throat as she focused on the last picture. There were no corpses in it, but it made her skin crawl as she stared at it. In the picture, there was a cauldron lit with fire, it was filled with blood. She didn't need anyone to tell her whose blood was it.

Loren informed her before she turned and left the library. Iris waited until the door shut behind Loren before impatiently tearing the envelope open. Pictures fell out of the package on the table when she failed to stop it from ripping abruptly. She tossed the empty paper aside and picked up the pictures to observe the content on them. Iris felt her breath clog in her throat as she looked through the pictures and her breathing became more erratic with each picture. Her hands trembled harshly as her body fought to process what she was seeing. “Oh my god” Iris choked out. She was horrified at the pictures staring at her in the face.

They have golden hexagon eyes and writings I couldn’t understand. “I have a feeling I had seen this somewhere…” I whispered to myself as I looked closer at the picture, studying every angle of it while tilting the diary, hoping it could provide me with additional information about the drawing. But then I remembered and my eyes widened. The crates! Those crates of poison bombs! They have that symbol!

Iris loves Blaze was written in neat, childish handwriting over and over again. But the more I looked, the further I went; the air in the room felt heavy, suffocating. I took a few steps further in, my gaze bouncing from one picture to the next. Some were drawings, crude sketches in pencil that looked like they had been done by a child. Others were photographs—so many photographs. And then, one picture stopped me cold. It was a photo of the girl, Iris, her hair loose and spilling down her shoulders in soft curls.

Bracing my elbows on my knees, I bury my head in my hands and struggle to think of a way out of this situation. The window to use the famous ‘this isn’t what it looks like’ line has sailed because asides from my reaction which has given me away, our faces in the pictures already do. There’s a dark smirk on Carter’s face that promises every single dirty thing he did to me that day and on my face is the delighted and satisfied look of a woman who finally got what she wanted. It’s obvious even though I’m literally upside down and the more you glance back and forth through the pictures, the clearer it becomes. “Fuck,” I mutter, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes.

Maybe the third drawer could lead me to one of Axe's mystery spots. Sure enough. As soon as I pulled the drawer, my heart suddenly raced in a loud bang. An old square of paper lay stretched across the drawer. My hand reached out to pull the paper out. It was a picture of a small child drooping limply in the corner of a dark room. Many birds flew around the child who was cowering in fear. The black and gray colors were combined into one unit until there was no room for other colors to exist. My eyes were blurred by the water that remembered the near fall. Even though it was a drawing on very old paper. But the content of the message is very deep. Clearly the picture has a meaning that the own

These are pictures of the Atono and Alexei family. Everything has a red red on it. While Aton, Ruslan, my dad, loana, my picture and Irina's pictures have a boldly written 'Target' on it. But the picture that caught my eyes was Irina's. What is Irina's picture doing here? How did they know about Irina? "What is my wife's picture doing here?" I asked him as I faced him. I should have asked about all of our pictures but I just wanted to know the reason why Irina's picture is here.

There are thousands of his pictures, some alone, some with people. "Maybe he's not as heartless as I thought," I ponder as I scroll through the images, looking for any sign of vulnerability or emotion in his eyes. But then I come across a picture that stops me in my tracks. It's a candid shot of him, taken by someone else at a party. He's laughing, head thrown back, eyes crinkled with joy, and his smile is so wide that it lights up the entire room.

“You’re not but you are related to the thief.” I grabbed the folder from the drawer next to me and threw it in her direction. Photographs in black and white were strewn on the coffee table. She gazed at them with interest. And stopped. She gasped. Every picture had a backstory and each one was worse than the last. Gory pictures taken at sweet, crazy angle, perfect for the blind to see. He gazed directly into the camera in one of the pictures, his eyes beseeching. He was seen kneeling on a patch of concrete with blood accumulating beside him in another image.