Written In Red Novels & Stories

Max wouldn't approve since she's got it in her head that I might be getting addicted, but given the shitty way I'm feeling, I don't give it much thought. And I'm feeling better already, so good that I have forgotten about Camila and her vile words. I'm now distracted by the different writings on the walls of this particular toilet. Along with people's names, there are some pretty vulgar words too. How come I have never noticed this before? Oh Max's name is there too, dribbled in a red marker it says, Max Genesis z a slut. I frown, that's not very nice. Who writes this stuff? "Ashley?" Am I imagining things or is that Kristen's voice?

"Also, Deaton figured out how to get Angel to do a programmed write... " “It's anything but a reliable strategy,” the redheaded lady mutters, giving her priAngel flavor to her cocktail. composed this," I state as I pull out the sheet collapsed into four that I cash anywhere for unknown reasons I can't fathom. Red places her half-empty glass on the silver plate and reaches out for the blade I offer her. He unfolds it calmly and when it's fully stretched out, his better half leans over to investigate as well. — Jorgee ,— he articulates cautiously and then adds: — estroz —meaning ?

The assistant asked when her friend didn’t reply. “I-I, this-, I don’t-, what-,” Andrea’s words struggled to come out coherently. Ren, quick as lightning, sat by the actress’ side, snatching the paper from her. Ren’s eyes widened and slowly breathed to calm down. She may be a strong woman, but even this would shake her to the core. The crimson letter smelled horrible with metallic rust. It appeared to be white paper painted dry with the red liquid. Faded white, erratic letters made up what the author was trying to tell Andrea.

On the last photo, Anna had written just one line in red marker: “HE LOVED ME FIRST.”

When the last ray of sunshine turns as red as blood, when the Red Moon becomes full, our victory is near. I swallowed and scrambled for my laptop, trying to copy the test as it started to shift and become illegible again. I managed to get it all down just as it vanished. I blotted my nose and smeared the blood across the page, hoping there was enough blood there to reveal more words. The passage before and after it until I could ready the full page. It was written in a very flowery way, but it was written like a journal, I think. This had to have been written by a vampire or a werewolf with a deep connection to vampires.

The pristine sheet of vellum paper lay in the damp clover, its white surface catching the silver starlight. The handwritten text—THE DESK IS VACANT. THE RE-DRAFT WILL BEGIN WHEN THE BANKER RESPONDS—did not shiver or flash with the lavender light of a terminal. The ink was different now; it was a deep, natural sepia that looked like it had been mixed from walnuts and river-water, free from the synthetic polymers of the High Treasury.

I braced my mind, my heart, and my soul before flipping page after page, its sound adding to the never-ending drumming of my pulse. And then I found it, written in a different ink compared to most of the journal entries. It was written in red, bloody dark red. As if Rowena dried any animal’s body just to let it be the ink that tells her story on her very special day. Slowly but surely, I read each word, letting my stomach digest it even though it protests and almost turning upside down. I will do this. I must do this. For it is only through her journal I can find the answers to my questions—

But the word remained, dripping down the glass in slow red rivulets that definitely hadn’t been condensation. Elias-9 stared at it, chest heaving. “Tell me you saw that,” he rasped. Mara couldn’t speak. Because written beneath POMEGRANATE in the same blood-red script were four more words she never thought she’d see again, in handwriting she’d know anywhere: I never left, Red.

RED INK EP 9: Introductions "Wooooow!" Lorin whispered as they strolled into the interior of the party. The theme setting was a pale red and gold, mixed with some silver and glitters. The tables were all set in a fancy glimmer and the wine glasses were arranged so fancifully. She looked up at Dillion, he wasn't amused by the setting, his mind seemed to be somewhere else. From a table by her left hand side, she saw Larry Donas—he was making small talks with a beautiful blonde lady who sat beside him. There were about five people at his table; the table was large.

And my wolf finally spoke to me for the first time since I planned to break my red string. Beautiful... ***** Ed_Dianthe | Ms. Ed