Mc Blood-stained Novels & Stories

Blood dripped on the carpet—dark red splatters that soaked in fast. The game wasn’t bloodier now. It's becoming personal. As it was before.

I cried, I prayed, and I hoped for Kingsley to awaken soon. The blood on my dress has dried. It’s no longer red. The bright red colour turned a dull brown, stiffening the fabric where it soaked in. I keep noticing it in my peripheral vision, like a stain that refuses to be ignored no matter how many times I look away. The hallway is quiet in that expensive way hospitals reserve for people with . Thick carpet. Muted lights. No echoing cries. No chaos. Just the low hum of machines somewhere behind the walls and the red “IN OPERATION” sign glowing steadily at the end of the corridor.

The doctor ran her eyes around the lab looking for someone to help her, and huffed. -When I don't need help, there's a lot of people around me, bothering me, and now, when I really need there's no one -she grumbled as she stood up and went to the 'cooler'-a kind of refrigerator specific to store blood- and took a vial of human blood, another one with vampire blood, another one with wolf blood and another one with blood altered by the drug DroPaCem and took them with her to the microscope.

I stopped and touched my nose because I felt something wet dripping from it. Red... Undoubtedly It's blood. Just great. I wiped it out using my sleeves and so it got stained. Oh well, I'll just wash it later after I go home. "Don't worry about me. It will dry out after a sec." I said nonchalantly but my voice is still hoarse. And continue wiping it but it's not stopping at all. It's dripping continually. Now my sleeves have many red stains on them. "NO. You're not fine! Damn It! Rhyme go call for the doctor right away! Hurry!" Brylle exclaimed angrily while Rhyme quickly did as he's told running away in some direction.

Bruce nodded desperately, despite wanting to end the misery right there and then, letting Michael run some tests. After several examinations, Michael tilted his head, puzzled. "That's weird. There's no blood clot or anything unusual. Everything looks normal. This doesn’t make sense."

sounding interested and likely expecting me to deliver a straightforward answer. " For now, I can't be certain as to what the solution is, but I believe that if we run more tests, experiment more, record each findings and observations, we can actually find a way to industrialize blood without the threat of its impurities". " Mr Mcman, we at the medical laboratory department have done everything possible to find a solution, we have carried out every test or experiment that we can think of, but there is still no solution. So how do you believe that this solution which doesn't exist, can be found?" Dr Carrie asked.

“That’s a six-hundred-dollar shirt! You have to make sure that stain gets out. I can’t afford someone cleaning that!” Fuck. Six hundred dollars? Even double and triple tabs wouldn’t cover it. “Okay,” I whisper, my voice trembling. I turn around to the table, which now looks similar to a murder scene. I throw the napkins on the table to soak up what I can, almost tripping over one of Madden’s friends in my haste to get to his bloody shirt. The stain is huge—a dark, spreading purple blotch across his crisp shirt. Shit! “That’s not going to work,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Can I clean this somewhere?”

Michael crouched down, his attention shifting to the ground as he brushed aside leaves and dirt, examining everything carefully without rushing, his silence stretching long enough to make my nerves tighten. “Here,” I said again, pointing toward a patch of grass a few steps away. We moved closer, and I could see it clearly now, the dark stains of blood that hadn’t fully faded, more than one. Michael reached out, touching the ground lightly as his expression shifted, becoming more serious with each second. “This isn’t normal,” he muttered, almost to himself. “What do you see?” I asked, my voice quieter now. He straightened slowly, turning to face me.

The single word was a hoarse scrape. Jensen held out his hand. Clutched in it, protected from the worst of the mud by his grip, was a scrap of fabric. Pale blue flannel. Torn. And unmistakably stained with dark, rust-brown patches that even the relentless rain hadn’t fully washed away. *Blood.*

My heart sank and my breathing got stumped. My hands sweeped over it and my orbs widened in horror. Blood. It spread rapidly round the area, tainting my gown and casting a sinister hue of red upon my gown. The liquid cascaded onto the beach sands, imprinting its crimson stains upon the grains. My heartbeat accelerated with each passing moment, intensified by another wave of excruciating pain. This time, the anguish centered right above my left breast. Similar to its bloody counterpart, it surged swiftly, tainting my gown with its scarlet red stains.