Pink Corruption Novels & Stories

There was no warmth in those exchanges, no sense of kinship, only the acknowledgment of shared obligation. In the bathroom’s stale light, I splashed cold water over my face, willing it to wash away the heaviness. The reflections staring back at me—tired, wary, yet stubbornly holding onto something that resembled hope—offered no comfort, but I refused to look away. I studied my deep brown and golden skin, the way my long, raven-colored curls framed my face, and the intensity of my dark brown eyes. There, in the glass, I noticed a single, slender silver streak woven through my hair, glinting under the harsh fluorescent glow. My eyes, too, seemed to play tricks; for a fleeting moment, I caught

(Danica) The carnival didn’t slow down, and neither did the suffocating feeling of being watched. After the carousel, the crowd migrated toward the far edge of the quad where the Viking Ride—a massive, swinging pirate ship—loomed over the festivities. Painted in fierce gold and maroon, it rocked back and forth, casting massive, sweeping shadows over the roaring spectators below.

I nodded, and my eyes plastered on him again. People say pregnant women develop an unusual fondness or dislike over food, places, and person. In my case, I developed a dislike for spices and milk but abnormally liked beef and other foods I hated before. Some pregnant women even develop pica cravings, an unusual craving to eat things that aren't food, such as ice or clay. Science explains ‘pica craving’ as a sign of nutritional deficiencies like iron and zinc because pregnant women have increased nutritional needs. But what about sudden extreme liking of a person? A ring on Kim’s phone saved me from my folly. He glanced at the screen, and before taking the call, he stood up and gazed at me.

“I’m done talking about this, Cy. She’s gone. Nothing you say or do can bring her back. Besides, we have more important things to discuss.” My eyes slid to the Christmas tree, large and imposing. A smile graced his lips. “I know you had The Queen implement the no decorations rule, but I wanted this year to be special. I wanted you to remember this birthday as the best and I know purple is your favorite color.” “It’s a stupid fucking color,” I spat, ignoring the fact that it really was my favorite color.

To kill a monster, you must become one yourself *~* Cracking of bones, screams of anguish and agony, reddish liquid spread all over, the sound of lugubrious cries, taste of salty tears. All were like a melodious sound to his ears, and a blissful scene in his eyes. His lips curved into a smile, his smile was sadistic, atrocious, inhumane, and fiendish, a complete display of the man he was, the real rapscallion in our closet, the nightmares that stalked the weak, languid, and even the vigorous of mind.

-I'm calling mine, The Bad Girl Wears Pink [the story of Secret Nolan]. You aren't bad unless you have your own sigil/symbol/mark. -how about a pink panther better yet a tigress? You aren't bad unless you've met all the requirements on the bad list. -I'm the reason they made this list. You aren't bad until you've proven you are bad. - Not to toot my own horn or whatever...but I make the 'faceless men' run for cover. You aren't bad until everyone acknowledges the fact that you are indeed bad. - It's hard to deny.

The next day I went to my boss house to inform him about something and i met the stripper girl in the living room or better still his daughter. She was wearing a short white skirt which exposed her laps and a pink crop top. Her black curly hair was packed into a messy bun and her face was plastered with makeup. She was a beautiful woman and she knows it. Her eyes were small and dark and her lips were plump. Funny enough I found her attractive yesterday night but now she disgusts me.

On the other side rest big machinery all of which have red stains on them. Thick black doors makes up the right side of the wall that continue down the hallway all made from a type of metal that makes it impossible for anyone to break in or out of it. The stench of blood, grime, and urine hang in the hair and I take a big gulp, trying to swallow the bile that is coming up. Adair is well in front of us, walking dauntlessly without even taking a second glance at any of the red stains on the walls. Nick’s mouth is set in a tight line and he continues to glance at me behind his shoulder to make sure I’m okay.

The one that could confirm my suspicion. Whether Pink and Adrian were connected by more than just circumstance. Their eyes. I’d noticed before but dismissed it. The same gray-green shade, catching the light the same way. And Pink’s laugh. When she really laughed, her face lit up the same way Adrian’s did. Coincidence? Or something more? Pink was adopted. I’d gotten her through a private agency as a newborn. The agency said her young mother couldn’t care for her and wanted a better life for her baby. Brittany had convinced me to get her.