Turning Red Graphic Novels & Stories

I tell Carla to pour some more water in the glass and she does so. Ten. Nine. Eight. I sip the water as I look at Troy with a smirk and he rolls his eyes. At five, I place the glass on the table and start walking towards the couch. The record starts before I'm there and so I start talking as I walk to the couch where Patty is. "Welcome back everyone to the Red Flags show where unveil red flags in relationships and uncover cheating partners." I start looking directly at the camera before Troy says through my earpiece to turn to camera four. The one on my left side.

“There’s more of the colour red in Rose.” “Exactly.” He answers. “In brain scans, we have an intensity colour from the shades of grey which we call grey levels. Black means no activity and it ranges up to the better contrast which we call the false colour. It’s the hot regions with colours similar to the rainbow. Red having the highest activity count, then yellow, then green and so forth, Blue, violet and black represent the levels of low activity.”

Alec couldn’t speak in too much irritation and probably, anger. His eyes were so red, like the color of evil itself. The color of blood and war. The color of death. Yes, red can symbolize love like that of a rose. But it could symbolize many things such as what I have mentioned already.

“One more lie and red will gush through your skins.” “Look for yourself and see what lie there is to what we have said” I boldly stated with courage and confidence as I step in front and tried to walk closer to them. “Iris, what are you doing?” Sage said as he held my arm. I could only coldly look at him and shrugged his hands from my arms and walk towards the yellow people.

It just exploded out, wild and pissed off. Except, this wasn’t your run-of-the-mill shift. Nah. Her fur wasn’t the usual brown, gray, or black. Nope. She came out drenched in red—like, blood-red. The kind of red that makes you stare and forget how to breathe, burning crazy-bright under the moon. Yeah. The red wolf. The one from the stupid stories.

"Analysis: Subject is attempting to write a Narrative-Layer over the Null-State. Logic dictates this is impossible. Narratives require a Foundation." "The Foundation is **Us**!" I roared. I felt a surge of energy that wasn't red, white, or grey. It was **Violet-Gold-Red**. It was the color of a bruise that was healing. It was the color of a sunset after a storm. It was the **Living Code**. I pushed back against the glass. Where my feet touched the obsidian shards, they turned back into soil. Where Sarah’s light touched the grey marble, it sprouted wildflowers made of sapphire and flame.

Paul huffed and Leo agreed with him. We have labels for the type of game we will be playing. Yellow if it's easy, and we will just tease, push them around, but nothing physical. Orange is when we will leave them with nothing, inflict physical damage, but not to the point of danger, and lastly and the most extreme is red. We will fūck with their heads until they go back to the city and go straight to an asylum. Some of my friends like red, including me. There is nothing more satisfying than seeing how a once almighty person drops to the ground, and loses their identity.

His eyes were fixed on the angry flush on my skin, his lower lip beginning to wobble—a sure sign that the sensory overload of the chaos was about to trigger an episode. “Hey, hey, there’s nothing to be sad about,” I said softly. I held my hand up so they could see it clearly, keeping my movements slow and predictable. I pointed to the burn. “What color is this, boys?” “Red…?” they whispered in unison, their voices thin and uncertain. “Exactly,” I encouraged, focusing my attention on Eli. I needed to reframe the pain into something he could categorize. “What does red mean, Lee? In our stories?”

, I asked. "Yes. The one you interrupted my beauty sleep just to take a photo of" "Would you ever let go of that?", I asked. "No. Not really. I would never forgive you for that" "Whatever", I rolled my eyes. "Anyways, the mark is that of a Red werewolf" She frowned. "A Red Werewolf?" "Yes" "That's strange. I could've sworn I've heard that name before but I just can't remember where" "A Red werewolf is a really rare werewolf status. They are better than even Gammas. Some, who are able to live longer, can even best an Alpha in a fight"

“You’re going to give me one before I touch you.” I swallowed. “Red.” “And colors. Green means you’re good. Yellow means slow down or ease up. Red stops everything. No questions, no anger. You use them. Understand?” “Yes.” “Say it back.” “Green means good. Yellow means slow down. Red stops everything.” He nodded once. “Good girl.” Then he moved.