Tasting Blood After Coughing Novels & Stories

Theresa asks, standing in front of me. " Water." I breathe out. " Okay." She says, rushing off. The more I cough, my throat tightens and my air supply is closing on me. I stagger back, holding onto my neck, I hold my hand against my mouth. Holding it out, I notice a red substance. Blood. I'm coughing out blood. My eyes trail up as my vision gets blurry, on the wall above, it's written two words. SAY GOODBYE. I stagger back in shock, tripping on my feet and falling on the floor, my hands planted on the cool tiles.

Anastasia Turning on the tap, I let the water rush out in a loud stream to cover the sound of my coughing. My hands grip the edge of the sink as I bend forward, my body shaking with each rough, tearing cough. It feels like my insides are burning like acid is eating me alive from the inside out. A sharp, metallic taste fills my mouth, and when I pull back slightly, my eyes widen at the sight of dark red streaking the white porcelain.

Did he say that just to comfort me? "Look." He pointed toward the puddles of blood. "This is the first time your father vomited. The blood is dark red and sticky. That’s the second one. Its bright red is more evident." "Yes, but so what?" Anastasia was still confused. "From my experience, I think your father vomited out the poison in his body," Alexander explained softly, "The cough itself isn't bad. People cough to excrete foreign matter within them, and I think that was the case."

"I don't require security. I must shield people from harm.” He smiles a little and begins coughing, "They sure do, you troublemaker." It gets louder and more intense until he collapses. I grab some tissues from my console and quickly hand them to him. The white color changes to red as he coughs blood into them. As his fit goes on, my heart becomes stuck in my throat. His coughing finally stops, slowly but not gracefully. As he waves a hand and places the tissues in the trash, they are covered in blood. In order to wipe his mouth, he retrieves clean ones.

“Not long ago at all–maybe… twenty minutes? Thirty minutes? Yeah, that sounds right, it, it–” “Pull it together,” my mother snaps. “I need you to focus right now for me, Colin. Can you do that?” “Y-yes,” he says shakily. “There’s blood on your shirt,” my mother remarks impassively. “It’s his?” “It is,” he replies. “How did it get there?” “He coughed it up,” Colin replies, horror creeping into his voice. “He just… coughed it up.” My mother nods. “And the body?”

The restroom was off to the other side of the floor, but I made it there in time before another cough tore through me. I rolled toilet paper around my hand and coughed into it to muffle the noise in case someone was passing. When I brought my hand down, my eyes widened at the sight in front of it as panic set in. There was blood splattered on the tissue as I tasted the metal liquid in my mouth. The doctor had warned me about this. I coughed again more blood coming out this time. In a daze I folded up the paper and threw it in the bin then proceeded to rinse my mouth at the sink, watching the crimson water go down the drain.

"I don't know, Alpha Jack. We've been doing our best." I felt a wave of despair wash over me. "Let's go. I have an idea." But before I could move, I started coughing. It was a deep, hacking cough that shook my body. And then, I tasted blood in my mouth. Sarah gasped and then screamed, her face pale with shock. "Jack, what's happening?" she cried. I tried to speak, but my throat was raw. I could feel the blood trickling down my chin. Panic set in, as I realized that something was seriously wrong.

His hands came up to the desk, scrambling to take the tablets he had placed on the desk, and reached for the glass of water when his vision had finally cleared. He swallowed the set of pills in one gulp before taking a swig from his glass. He rested his head backward on the sofa for a while to relax and let the drugs take effect before he got to work. He felt his chest constrict and his breathing still for a few minutes when he took a long breath to calm his nerves, he burst into a fit of coughs. Reaching for the pack of tissues that had been aesthetically placed in the middle of the table, he put them over his mouth to contain his violent cough. Bringing the tissue back when his cough had s

Timothy didn't attack; instead, he stared at me with surprise, which was evident in his eyes at my sudden change. I bowed my head and gazed down at my hands. They were shaking uncontrollably. A strange sensation started in my toes and slowly crept up my body, tingling its way to my stomach and chest. It felt like I was floating on a fluffy cloud. "Ugh!" I coughed, unable to suppress it. "Ugh!" Another cough escaped my lips. I quickly covered my mouth with my hand and inspected the aftermath of my coughing fit. To my horror, I saw blood staining my palm.

“Peanuts?” No answer. Only the creak of settling metal and the distant crash of waves far below the cliff. He had to be okay. He had to— I coughed, and the pain exploded. Wet, coppery warmth flooded my mouth and I spat blood onto the tilted dashboard, the bright red splatter shocking against the dusty gray plastic. Another cough wracked me, deeper this time, and more blood came up, dribbling down my chin and soaking into the collar of my shirt. The taste was awful, thick and warm as my vision blurred at the edges, the ringing in my ears growing louder, drowning out everything except the frantic thud of my own pulse.