The House That Dripped Blood Movie Novels & Stories

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.

I nodded my head doing a mental check on all the things I needed to do before leaving, I need my bags, and a shower, I could still smell the blood. The car came to a stop in front of a building, it was an abandoned cabin surrounded by nothing but trees for miles, it had broken windows, and a huge sign with red paint splattered all over it, that looked almost like dried blood, on the one intact window, the fake blood wrote ‘GET OUT’ a mark in the front that almost looked like a gash.

Heat flooded my face but I held my chin high, striding down the aisle past drooling frat boys who stared openly at my see-through shirt while Kai Voss added his piece from the projector cart. pushing glasses up with a finger while his eyes traced water droplets sliding down my neck into cleavage, voice casual but loaded. "You're lucky we're wrapping early tonight study group in my office after, all three of us, to address these consistent issues because we know that Brew Haven shift runs late, but extra credit won't earn itself standing there dripping on my floor." I dropped into the front seat, crossing my arms over my chest to hide the worst of the wet shirt show while they resumed their p

In one swift and big bite, without an ounce of hesitation, blood quickly stained the arena and a pained cry was heard throughout. It was unsettling how indifferent he was to spill blood that was just like his. His family’s blood. I do wonder if he still has a heart past all that murderous intent.

The bedchamber felt too small, the air thick with the scent of faded roses and old arguments. I had retreated there, the Duke’s words still ringing in my ears, a cold, sharp chime that wouldn't stop. ‘Dragon blood,’ he had whispered, and the world had tilted on its axis.

It was a damn good evening in Miami. My wife and I were in one of the best hotels, finally away from the family, the office, all that fake holy life we play for everybody else. Just us two, ready to do one of our dirtiest hobbies again. I was sitting in the chair finishing my glass of brown liquor after a rough fucking day. Those useless workers at the company screwed up again and gave me high blood pressure like always. Only one way to let it all out, whore my wife out to a stranger, watch him pound her pussy while I stroke my dick, then when he’s done and shoots his load deep inside her, I drop down and lick every thick drop of his cum straight out of her used hole. Shit, I couldn’t wait.

Daniel whispers, pointing to the floor. I look and my blood runs cold at the signt. The droplets of blood leading to a trail...the one Aurora was talking about. The blood of my wife. Fuck.

Natalie Jett's first love needs a mobile blood bank. But she's going to drain all the blood from my comatose younger brother due to me not arriving in time. I drop to my knees and beg her desperately. "Micah is already showing signs of waking up. The doctor said he'll die if you keep taking his blood. Take mine instead and leave my brother alone! Please!" But Natalie remains unmoved. She looks coldly at me as I kneel before her on the ground. "This is your punishment for being late. It's only some blood. What's the big deal? "Andy is severely anemic. He's the one who could actually die. Is your brother's life really more important than Andy's?" Ignoring my pleas, she orders her priva

𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔? 𝐷𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑛𝑎𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑠?' My subconsciousness didn't hesitate to make me feel horrible. I walked into the room without more difficulty this time since I was using the crutch. I dropped the crutch and then dragged my leg to the bathroom to take a shower.

Drip. At first I thought it was the leaky sink in the hallway. But the sound was coming from behind the wall above my head. I sat up slowly. The room smelled wrong. Like iron. Like rust. Then came the sound—squelch. Like something soft and wet being dragged along stone. A sickening line of red trickled down from the corner where wall met ceiling. Not water. Not ink. Blood. I blinked. It kept coming. Thick. Red. Fresh.