The House That Dripped Blood Cast の小説・ストーリー

The doctor ran her eyes around the lab looking for someone to help her, and huffed. -When I don't need help, there's a lot of people around me, bothering me, and now, when I really need there's no one -she grumbled as she stood up and went to the 'cooler'-a kind of refrigerator specific to store blood- and took a vial of human blood, another one with vampire blood, another one with wolf blood and another one with blood altered by the drug DroPaCem and took them with her to the microscope.

Adjust the drip and look at the flow, when the drop continues it means you did it right. I lifted my gaze to the bag of blood hanging above my head. My world spun and blurred, and I lost my strength to fight as the blackness was falling over my vision. Completely.

***Dru's POV*** The air hangs thick as roux left to scorch in a cast-iron pot, humidity gluing my shirt to my spine. Around us, Vermilion Court simmered—a dead-end strip of cracked asphalt where shotgun houses slumped like drunks against each other. Spanish moss dripped from waterlogged oaks, their gnarled roots buckling the sidewalks into jagged stone teeth. Somewhere, a screen door whined on rusted hinges, slapping rhythmically against a frame bloated with rot.

She couldn't tell how large the room was, but that wasn't the issue, for that familiar smell of rotting flesh and blood assailed her nose, making her stumble back slightly. Drip, drip, drip... There was something dripping from the ceiling, and when she looked up, the liquid hit her face. It was warm, smelled sort of metallic, and when she touched to find out, she was horrified to find out that it was blood. There was more dripping, and as she walked forward amidst the shadows, she felt her feet sink in to what she thought was a puddle of blood.

Then Cammie studied my face. "What?" I asked. "Nothing," she said and looked away. "Cam, tell me why Jacques called you a drudge girl?" "Oh, you really don't know what that means? That's one of the reasons I wanted to gut that girl like a fish!" Cammie said distastefully, but when she saw my blank expression, she heaved a sigh, "Well, drudges are human slaves who serve vampires. They follow and listen to whatever their masters tell them to, and they even provide their own blood to them. I have read that in the vampire stories."

Blood sprayed outward in a gruesome arc, painting the polished floors in a grotesque mosaic of red. The shards of crystal impaled him in multiple places, piercing through his chest, legs, and abdomen. His body convulsed briefly under the weight of the chandelier before going still, his lifeless eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. The hall fell silent once more, the gruesome sight leaving everyone frozen in horror. Draven’s blood pooled beneath the chandelier, mingling with the shards of broken glass. His once-imposing figure was now a mangled, unrecognizable heap.

I call again, louder this time, stepping further into the house. No response. Sienna reaches past me and flips the light switch. The lights come on, and everything changes. At first, my brain doesn’t understand what I’m looking at. There’s something on the floor, dark and smeared, stretching from the entrance further into the house. I try to make it something else, anything else. But it doesn’t take long. The color. The thickness. The way it trails. Blood. My stomach drops so fast it feels like the ground shifted under me.

Among the flowers, there is a house key that is used for emergencies. I entered the house using the key I got. When entering the house, the situation looks very quiet. The room looks dark. I called out Frey's name over and over in a slightly low voice. My feet stepped looking for stairs to reach the third floor of this house. From the outside appearance of the house, I estimated Frey's room and walked towards it. The easternmost room on the third floor. I knocked on the door several times before trying to enter. The room was so dark I couldn't see anything in it.

During my three-year-old son's preschool physical, his blood type didn't match mine or my wife's. I had just printed the divorce papers when I suddenly heard my son's voice. [This disgusting man is so stupid. He's raised me, his own little brother, as his son for years and still has no idea!] [Lol, hurry up and get divorced. Once they divorce, I can cling openly to my real mom!] [And divorced men are unwanted anyway. From now on, every dollar he earns will be mine!] My wife was still anxiously explaining, "Honey! I really never betrayed you! Do you really want a divorce?" I looked at my son's tightly closed lips and excited eyes, then tore up the divorce papers instead. "No divorce. S

Blood from my nose had run past my lips and chin, smearing across my cheeks and ears. The front of my shirt had long since lost its original color. It was soaked through with blood. The pool beneath me had spread to Derrick’s shoes, sticky and dark. “Harriet?” Derrick’s voice trembled. He called my name again. “Harriet?” Mom had been celebrating Sheila’s safe return. When she saw Derrick storm toward the storage room, she followed him. The sight before her made her scream. She covered her mouth and staggered back a step. Dad had been comforting the frightened Sheila. After hearing the commotion, he rushed over as well.