Rose With Dripping Blood Novels & Stories

After all she said I was struggling to breathe too. "When I walked in all I could smell and see was blood. Blood everywhere. Even if I close my eyes now, I can picture it as though I’m seeing it right in front of me. It covered the walls, the floor, everywhere. And when I went deeper into the house... I saw the most pitiful, most horrific thing ever. Rose was kneeling by the corpses of her decapitated and bloodied parents, sobbing. She was covered in a thick coat of blood and she reeked of death and sweat. Her body was trembling and tiny, covered in goosebumps. It was the smallest I’d ever seen anyone. She looked so fragile and weak. She looked so broken, as if the whole world had shattered

Rose grunted before she felt a hot substance run down her legs. As Rose looked in between her legs, her eyes suddenly widened as blood began dripping on the floor, "Oh my God, Joshua!" She yelled in a terrified tone as heavy, rapid footsteps were heard seconds later before Joshua entered the room with a worried expression on his face, "Rosie, what's wrong, baby girl?" He asked as tears streamed down Rose's face, "Something is wrong with the baby, Joshua, I'm bleeding," she replied as Joshua began to panic, "Shit!" He exclaimed as he rushed towards Rose, "F**k, it's alright, baby, everything will be alright, let's get you to the hospital," he said before lifting her in his arms as they exited

"Are there any other wounds on your body?" Rose asked coldly. At the moment, she had no interest in Camellia copying someone else's hidden weapon. She was covered in blood, especially on her chest, a large patch of bloodstains. Camellia lowered her gaze, her eyes slightly dimmed, and then swept past, turning her back to Rose. "There's an external injury here." Rose cautiously lifted her blouse, revealing her pale skin stained red with blood. The sight was horrifying, and she steeled herself to remove the small stone lodged in her. Camellia winced in pain as she pulled it out, realizing the weight of both their bodies shouldn't be underestimated.

Rose had gone back to her room and was staring blankly out the window when she got there. After being pierced by pointed fingertips, her flesh bled bright red blood, which fell from her hand and stained the dark dress. Her eyes were afire with confusion, and her irrational feelings were suffocating her rationality and encouraging her to engage in harmful behavior.

A white rose lay on the floor dripping with blood. A small, shiny blade lay beside it. A beautiful object in such a terrible and painful condition. The blood stain on it did not hide it's immaculate and beautiful nature. She puffed smoke in the air and took a sip of the liquor beside her, as she glared at the bleeding rose with sad and anguish filled eyes, it told a lot about her and her agony. She was as beautiful as the rose in front of her.

“Sorry, I’m a bit out of it.” She shrugged, and opening the small door in the gate. She had no umbrella with her, I’m guessing she go out in a hurry. Who wouldn’t when their cousin was standing in front of her own home gate, and staring at her house like a psycho? “Don’t apologize. Let’s get you inside before you catch a cold.” I nod, following her through the door. The walkway is just like I remember, on each side are prize winning roses. Of different colors. Huh? When do black roses exist? I took a small detour from following Alexis, bending over a patch of those strange black roses.

Adrian was crying in a way Isolde had never seen any man cry before. "Adrian, please don't cry. Tell me how this happened. Why is she in there? How can she be...dead?" She cried out, grabbing his white tie, and as she did so, the tie became a murky red colour. She jumped back in shock as she realised that the red liquid was dripping off like an avalanche of blood. Adrian didn't appear to hear Isolde’s question, nor did he seem to notice the red fluid seeping down from his tie and forming puddles on the ground below him.

Then, he gave me a polite smile. The view changed after that. Rose stood there, lost in her thoughts. Everything around her is dark and broken. She started to move, she moved her right foot towards the jeep, then she slowly moved another and after a step she stopped and turned her neck to her shoulder and a drop of water moved out from her beautiful black eyes and then slipped on her red cheeks.

I touched my back and there was a few drops of blood there was also on the spot where I layed my back. I untucked the sheets and saw a single red rose underneath with the thorns still not been taken off. It was put in here like I was meant to lay my back on it and get poked by the thorns. My breath hitched as I tried to reach for the wound that just opened right now because of the thorns. Beside the rose was also a folded piece of a cream colored paper with a handwritting I didn't seem to recognize... or maybe I do.

The tape came off easily — almost too easily — and when I lifted the lid, a faint metallic scent hit me. Not paper. Not ink. Something thicker. My fingers froze. Inside wasn’t a stack of invitation cards. It was a small porcelain doll — or what used to be one. Its white dress was soaked in something dark, reddish-brown, and sticky. Dried blood. The face was cracked, eyes painted wide open in a chilling stare. And nestled beside it was a single black rose. The petals were fresh, glistening faintly — and its stem was covered in sharp, untrimmed thorns.