ՏհօɾԵ ՏԵօɾíҽՏ •The fragrance of blood• Her shifty green eyes scanned the abandoned warehouse. It was empty except for the dusty boxes piled on top of each other. But she knew she wasn't alone. Her heels clicked against the rocky ground as she stepped inside, her eyes now fixed onto the farthest corner of the wall. Approaching it, she raised her pale hand and touched the wall with her palm. She took a step back and watched warily as the portion of the wall moved. Something emerged from it and started to solidly before her eyes. It took the shape of a man. Brown curls formed themselves on the ghostly bald head. A long nose came into view as a smile spread across the thin lips. Where there should've been eyes, there were two dark holes. "Ah, Sherry," said the creature in a raspy voice. "My favorite wine." He took a step towards her but in a flash she whipped out the handgun she'd been hiding in her purse that was slung across her shoulder. He stopped. His smile never wavered as she pulled the trigger and the bullet pierced his head. She pulled it again and again and the numerous bullets hit him in almost every place in his body. He was covered from head to toe in red but still stood his ground. She let the gun fall down onto the ground with a soft 'thud' as she closed her eyes and inhaled the scent. It was a beautiful fragrance. The fragrance of blood. He smiled, coming towards her. "Like it?" "Very," she breathed and he pulled her in an embrace, sniffing her gold locks. ************** Hello readers and writers! This is my very first short story here and there'll be more to come in the future. I've written stories before on apps and I'm currently working on two novels on Wattpad. Let me know what you thought about my story and constructive criticism is most welcome since there's always room for more improvement. Hope you like it. -Death
ՏհօɾԵ ՏԵօɾíҽՏ •Her last words• "No! No, get away!" The panic in my voice betrayed me. The gun in my hand was shaking. Why? Despite my warnings, she continued to walk steadily towards me. Her brown eyes fixed and her face set. There was once a time, I was fascinated by her black wavy locks but not anymore. "I said, get back!" I yelled once again. My hand was shaking so much, I was afraid I'd drop the gun. For a few seconds, I watched her in terror. The woman I used to love but now despise and fear. The woman who killed my parents. The woman who was targeting me all this time. "STAY AWAY!" I squeezed the trigger and my hand shook violently as the bullet left the gun and flew across the room, hitting her squarely in her right shoulder. "Aack!" She stopped, clutching her shoulder with her left hand. Her eyes never left my face. She took another step. Again, I fired, the sound echoing in my ears. This time I got her in her leg. She closed her eyes for a moment, biting her lower lip before continuing again. I'm not sure how many times I shot her but only let go of the gun when I realized that I was out of bullets. She now reached out and fell onto me, her front covered in scarlet. I didn't move as I felt her wrapping her arms around me. "I love...you..." She was then silent. Her arms fell down, her body lifeless and limp. I don't know how long I sat there with her body on top of me but I'm sure I heard someone laughing. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up as I slowly realized that it was me laughing. For some reason, I couldn't stop. ************ This is my second short story. Again, let me know if you liked it or not. Opinions, comments, constructive criticism are most welcome. -Death
I like these, they're pretty awesome. c: I feel like although they are meant to be short, they could be slightly longer with a little more explanation. x3 Really good though! . .May I ask if you're from HSH? You're name's familiar but meh. :3
ՏհօɾԵ ՏԵօɾíҽՏ •Memories fade• Bertha Jones was over eighty years of age. Her droopy grey eyes were almost always closed, even if she wasn't sleeping. Her skin was no longer smooth, wrinkles filled every part of her face. She had spend four years in this same hospital room. The same nurses came in and went but she no longer could tell them apart. They said that her husband had passed away years ago and that she had no children. The only thing that was in her possession was an old notebook. It's blue cover was torn and the pages were as old as the woman who touched them delicately every morning. No one could tell what she was thinking. One morning, she looked up at the chubby nurse, Sara, who entered her room to check on her. "W-What is this?" She asked, in a weak voice, holding out the notebook in her frail hands. "Uh, isn't that yours?" The nurse looked at her patient more closely. The old woman's eyes were confused as she shook her head slowly. "No," she replied. "I don't remember... I don't remember anything." Sara approached her and took the notebook from her, watching her and wondering if there was a way to bring back memories, how great would that be? No one would forget but then again, people here did forget. A lot. That night, Bertha Jones passed away and was buried soon after in the cemetery. Sara now stared at the notebook in her hands and slowly opened it. As expected, Bertha's name was on top of it. And there was a photograph below it. It showed a young couple standing together arm-in-arm, smiling at the camera. The man had brown hair and twinkling green eyes. The woman had long dark hair with grey eyes. Sara looked at the photo again, tears forming in her eyes. She closed the notebook.
ՏհօɾԵ ՏԵօɾíҽՏ •Love Happens• How long has it been? Three years or five? I can't tell. I've been sleeping on roads and pavements for so long that my back is constantly stiff. My meals have reduced to once a day or if I'm lucky, twice. Wandering here and there, wherever my tired feet would take me. I had no home. No place to stay. That person was all I thought about now. Not a day went by when he didn't cross my mind. I had given up everything. My apartment, my job, everything. Why? Because he was the only thing that mattered to me in my dull life. But he said that he couldn't stay. He was afraid of commitment. So, he left. He said that I would get over him soon. It's strange because almost everything that he said was right but this was the one thing that turned out to be wrong. I tried to go back to the way things were. But I couldn't do it. He was already a part of my life. A part of me. I felt incomplete. So I left everything to find him. Tell him that I would go wherever he wished. That I loved him. But even now, I failed. I couldn't find him no matter where I went. Was this all for nothing? One night, as I was sitting on a bench eating a sandwich that a child had given to me that morning, I saw someone. He passed me in a flash but I felt it. Could it be...? Dropping my sandwich, I stood up and ran behind him. He was wearing a black overcoat even though it was warm. "Excuse me?" I croaked. He stopped and turned. His brown eyes widened and his thin lips opened in amazement as he recognized me. He hadn't changed. The same dark hair that reached his broad shoulders. I almost cried out in relief and happiness. "L-Lucy?!" I leapt and wrapped my arms around his waist, sobbing into his chest. "It's you," I cried. "I-It's really you!" "What have you-Look at you! Lucy, what happened?" He asked me, holding me in his strong arms. "Love...happened," I whispered, as darkness covered my eyes and I blacked out. I heard his voice. "Lucy, it's okay now," he assured me. He was crying, choking on his words. "I won't leave you again. Not ever. It was my biggest mistake. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." *************** This is a little story that's different from my other stories. Let me know whether I suck at romance or not. -Death
Short and meaningful. They are rather nice. I think the last one was somehow... Forced. I don't know. I personally would have freaked out a little if I was the guy. It's kinda cheesy if you think about it. Otherwise they are great! Keep it up!
Thanks. And yeah, romance is a genre I'm not good with. And you're right, it definitely was cheesy. I'll try to be more original.