Is Blood Pooling In Hands Normal Novels & Stories

I struggle to take one step but I feel a warm liquid pool at my feet and I look down to see blood rushing down my leg. This is not normal. My body gets too heavy for my legs and I drop to the ground, the last action I make before my vision totally blacks out.

Struggling to suppress the panic and worry in me as I can smell his blood wafting through the cracks in the door frame. He's been shot! He's hurt, injured! As I force myself to breathe and calm down, I eventually notice my hands are throbbing, stinging where the skin is broken, black and blue from the repeated impacts with the door. But I don't care, not even that I'm bleeding, I am just happy to be feeling something, happy in the knowledge that Elias is alive and we know each other are here. As the adrenaline starts to wear off, I can feel how much damage I have done to my hands. Inspecting them now as they drip with blood, the red aroma filtering up to my nose, filling my nostrils with the

I brought the blood to my nose and took one simple sniff, closing my eyes for better concentration. The normal smell of blood hit me first, but the smell was too heavy. Opened my eyes to inspect the blood, and noticed that while it appeared the normal colour, the little drop of blood had failed to coagulate in the time it had been exposed to air. Typical signs of Moonshade poisoning.

He unzipped a small flap at the bottom of the pod and pulled out an arm. It had an IV line taped to it, and the skin was deathly pale, covered in blotchy red spots. Hughes didn't draw blood right away. He stared at the hand, then squeezed the muscle of the forearm. The room went dead silent, save for the steady beep of the monitor. After a few seconds, Hughes's brow furrowed. His expression shifted from confusion to shock, and finally, to cold, hard fury. "Strange... very strange," he muttered under his breath.

Panic flashed in his eyes, pure, unfiltered panic. “What the hell… are you okay?” I knelt beside him, reaching out to help, but the moment my fingers brushed his skin, he jerked violently and vomited more blood. I pulled back, but my eyes stayed locked on his. Something was wrong. I looked down at my hand, still resting on his arm, and noticed the skin beneath my fingers. His veins were turning black, dark lines spreading out like cracks in glass. They kept moving, snaking up through his chest, his neck, his face, until they reached his eyes.

Lately, I've always had trouble sleeping and am constantly restless. I suddenly felt my eyes blur momentarily in the middle of the journey. I stopped for a moment and held on to one of the walls in the hallway. My head is dizzy, and I feel strange. When I lifted my palms to look at it, I was truly shocked. "Aahhh!" My reflex screamed when I saw that my hands were covered in fresh blood. Desperately, I wiped the blood on my palms onto my clothes. But the blood didn't disappear and instead became more abundant.

I gasped, clutching my hand as blood began to pool in my palm. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I managed to say, my voice trembling as I tried to steady my breathing.

Alex paused once again to catch his breath. "She was lying right there on the floor... in a pool of blood... and I think I knew... I just knew that she was gone, but I wanted to confirm... so I walked up to her and touched her and shook her... but she was unresponsive... her body was cold... It's really cold... my hands. " Alex raised his free hand and looked at it like there was something on it... "My hands were completely covered with blood..."

Finally, she pulled her hands away from his sides and turned her attention to his arm. At first glance, everything appeared fine, and she let out a soft sigh of relief. A closer look, however, showed her that the tips of his fingers were beginning to darken. The bluish hue wasn’t all that obvious yet, but when she held the affected fingers next to his good hand for comparison, the difference was clear. She knew it was only a matter of time before Ralin’s entire hand began to discolor and swell, just as it had the previous night.

Too low to allow the captive to stand upright. Can't stand. Can't sit. And he's taking his weight, if that's what it can be called, on one leg only. The other curves oddly. Bloodstains are still spreading from the knee of his left leg. His hands, even from where I'm standing, look... strange... His shirt sleeves too, once business-suit-white, are bloody, dripping at strange angles. Something hard protrudes under the fabric on one arm where there should be smooth muscle and flesh.