Scarlet Hand Body Novels & Stories

Scar walked over to Cindy's bed,her eyes warm,you would swear she's different from the person who pushed her down,two storey building. “Cindy my friend,how are you feeling” She asked warmly, sitting beside her. Scar was pleased by the sight before her,from the cast on her neck,her left leg hung on a sling,and right hand hung on her neck. Cindy scoffed at the pretense. “I'm good ,I'm still alive,when there's life, there's hope” Cindy answered with a smile on her face. “I brought fruits for you,heard it helps the body heal fast”

she said and returned to the roses. Lysan stood there for a moment, watching her—then his eyes drifted to her hands. There was a scar on her right palm—the same scar he had on his original body, the same shape. Lysan froze. It can't be. That's impossible. How could the same exact scar he had in his previous life appear on Professor Cullen's hand? Has it been there before? Was he the one that hadn't noticed it? He was still looking at the mark when she turned and looked at him, her brown eyes meeting his.

He'd never seen something so frightening, something so cringing. He ran off as fast as he could, bawling blindly in the air as ran. He had no idea where he was headed, but he kept on running, blindly kicking his feet against the shrubs and thorns that lined on the grass. *************** Scarlett started by staring down at her bloody hands. As soon as the blue light all over her had, dimmed, she came back to her senses with terror in her eyes. She stared down at her hands, at Ray's lifeless body, and st the mess she'd created.

“Why, let me treat your wound.” “No need, go out.” “Atlas, why are you so stubborn? Can't you see your hand is bleeding a lot? If you continue to delay, you will bleed to death. Do you want to die?" Having finished speaking, she ignored this man and pushed his hand aside, she directly lifted his sleeve. But as soon as she lifted it and looked at the man's arm, she couldn't help but take a breath of cold air. His hand has many scars, they look very scary, some are bulging and even patchy, the two colors blue and red mixed look a bit brutal, this arm is no different from a demon's arm. Evil in the horror movies she often watches.

Evandros lost his steps and fell on the dirty ground covered with dead leaves. Once he got to his senses and raised his head, his pupils shrank. "SCARLET." He yelled at the top of his lungs, scarlet held the sword in her left hand as blood dripped down from her right arm. Her right sleeve was torn up and big claw marks can be seen on her white arm through which blood was pouring out like a rainfall.

he snapped out of his stupor and pulled her hand into his. The front hook on her mini twitch-bait lure stuck out of her palm. B used wire cutters to snip the barbed end off, and gently slid the rest of the hook out of her flesh. She sucked air through her teeth and looked away, but didn’t cry. B liked her already. And not just because he could see her light brown nipples peeking her tank top. He rinsed her hand with hydrogen peroxide, patted it dry, and wrapped it in gauze and a bandage.

Instead I stood on my hind legs. "Woah... She's something else." I heard a human breathe out. Scarlett looked beyond terrified. She shook in her boots and attempted to use her power, but it was not working. I then growled and charged towards her. In a matter of seconds my clawed hand-like paw was dripping in blood and through Scarlett's chest, and her heart was in my hand. It was warm and still beating. "This heart was pure, but the soul was dark and dirty. I will find you a new body." I said. And with that I lifted the heart towards the moonlight and slowly it disappeared, awaiting a soul to match its own goodness.

"Why are you suddenly so red? Are you sick?" Before his hand could touch her, Scarlett took a quick step back, dodging him. He paused. ...She wouldn't let him touch her? Theron frowned slightly, glancing at his hand. "Are my hands dirty?" "No." "Ugly, then?" Scarlett glanced at his hand-long fingers, clean lines, perfectly shaped. The kind of hand that could easily pass as a model's. "Neither. I'm just... a little warm. I'm not sick," she said.

My mother, Sophie Nash, was also my homeroom teacher, and she loved nothing more than using me to assert her authority. She was convinced that the worse off I was, the more afraid my classmates would be, and the higher her authority would be. Once, when I passed an eraser to a classmate during class, she slapped me so hard across the face in front of the whole class that my face swelled up. Another time, after I secretly ate a crumb of a classmate’s snack during recess, my mom dragged me up to the front of the classroom and pricked my lip with a needle until blood gushed out. Later, when a classmate was caught by the vice principal for having a romantic relationship while underaged, my m

His hand is no longer on my stomach, but the place he touched still holds heat like a bruise. “They’re assigning problems.” The first mirror lifts her right hand. Obsidian pressure folds around the chamber. It is not a full Well. A net. The relic light bends. The air thickens. Renn’s detonator hand slows by half an inch. Sarah’s gun arm drags as if the weapon has doubled in weight. Mara drops to one knee. The tame ones behind her go still. My bones remember the pressure and answer with heat. No. Sarah’s voice cuts in.