The Bloody Painter Novels & Stories

Blake’s assistant showed him the most appreciated and expensive painting of the event. “This is called the ‘Happy Souls’ by the artist — Jonathan Garcia. He is one of the most talented painters in our art gallery.” The lively vibes of the laughing people in the painting lure Viaan. He smiled a bit before turning to the assistant. “I would like to buy it.” Viaan expressed his interest, still gazing at the beautiful painting. “Sure, sir, I’ll just make—” The assistant couldn’t complete his words for someone interrupted them from behind. “Everything that entices you has the potential to be mine!”

"You should have used the yellow wolfsbane, works everytime." He gasped, struggling against my grip. I smirked at his pale face as it had lost all it's color. "No one needs a priest like you, in fact, I'm doing the world a favor. You should've confessed your sins when I gave you the chance to, maybe you could've been going to a better place or else…" I trailed off, digging my claws harder into his neck. "...see you in hell." Just then, I clawed at his stomach, causing blood to splash all over myself. His lifeless body dropped helplessly to the ground, a pool of blood quickly forming around him.

One man dropped and another went down after Sergio’s return fire snapped through the hallway like thunder. Sergio looked back at her dubiously. "How come you are so comfortable with a gun and shooting people?" he asked her. Rosy shook her head uncertainly. "I don't understand it myself. My body is just responding to a command on its own." she replied and Sergio smirked. "Surely now you believe the De Luca's blood runs through your view now." "Doesn't prove anything." she muttered focusing on gaze on the men exchanging gunfire. Blood pooled across polished floors. Priceless artworks were torn to shreds. Smoke drifted toward the high ceilings like a prayer gone unanswered.

The curtains were half open, allowing the newly risen moonlight to seep in faintly and cast indistinct shadows across his face. Several photographs were scattered on the desk. They were taken from various angles: faces, chests, hands, wounds and crude tattoos belonging to people who were no longer alive. The bodies of the rogues who attacked Eirene were stiff, their eyes staring blankly. Blood had dried on the asphalt, mingling with dust and last night’s rain. Fabrizio stood with both hands braced against the edge of the desk. His gaze was sharp and cold as he scanned every detail, trying to pierce the layers of dead flesh to see the truth beneath.

WARNING SIGNS: LANGUAGE THAT IS UNAMBIGUOUS CURSING VIOLENCE, GUN VIOLENCE SELF-INFLICTED HARM BLOOD, DECEASE, and GORE LUCA POV No more tears streamed down his face as he sank to the ground. That's when I saw the blood splattered on the blue painting that Valentina liked. Fucking hell, it's ruined now. I remember it was quite expensive too. I climbed the marble staircase, with several guards trailing me.

Hi readers This is my book blue blood and be sure to know what I write and what you'll all be reading is all in my imagination,it's all a fictionalized. All scenes,sword fighting skills,Powers and all are all work of my imagination if this reminds you of a scene before or a true life story it's all a coincidence. Thanks... ____________________________ In a small hut a woman groan in pain, rubbing her big tummy, she stretch her legs apart, moaning, tears and sweat mixed together on her face, her hairs pull apart but still her beautiful moonlight face shone.

The light from the chandelier above the dining table cast a warm yellow glow, but in my eyes, that light felt like an interrogation lamp. Porcelain plates were arranged with painful precision on the polished teak table. Diego Watson, a man with broad shoulders—the remnants of his glory days as a competitive weightlifter—cut his steak with steady, rhythmic movements.

The bloody one with his angry mate to destroy the witch kingdom but when the time comes I will take you away from the doom then you come back and rebuild the village starting it knew the older witch revealed to the witch princess Cara and she was surprised But witch mother who is that bloody one the witch princess Cara asked the old woman He who the Vampire King be got his only child Lamia the old witch said out his name loudly He is dead they say the witch princess Cara said He was never dead those words are rumours and lies the old witch said and the witch princess nodded Does that mean I should just watch the witch queen?? The witch princess Cara asked That's right pretend you don't know

Jon mumbled. "And that undisclosed buyer is me," said Dante smiling widely, his sharp teeth glistening in the dim room. "Let's see if you can guess who painted the next one." Dante walked eagerly to the next painting, his cane tapping on the wooden floor like a one-legged giant insect. He likewise turned on the pin lights and the painting exploded in colors of bright red and burnt sienna. "This painting is something I really like. Tell me what you think?" The second painting showed a half-naked man with eyes opened wide as if in a crazed state. In his hand was something that looked like a severed human arm while blood was seen dripping from his mouth. He appeared to be in a desert and faint

The blood dripped on the floor as I stood there waiting for his next move. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me into a room. As his hand gripped tightened onto my hair I screamed out in pain. He pushed me into the room and knocked me to the floor. I lay on the floor as I saw his body leave the room, leaving me alone. My nose felt like it was broken, and bleeding me to death. I looked around the room and saw a beautiful room with white and soft blue walls. A huge bed what looked like heaven on clouds. There were clothes laid out on a couch.