Apples_is_sweet

The final, venomous echoes that reached his ears were laced with sorrowful cries, "I shall seek you out once more, and you will atone for the slaughter of my kin. Not even the grave can shield you from my fury."   
*******
Silas appeared to possess it all: a devoted girlfriend, loving parents, and a steadfast best friend who kept him grounded. 
He was navigating the labyrinth of college life, aspiring to earn a doctorate.   
Then, fate twisted its knife. One fateful day, a beguiling figure emerged from the shadows of an alley. 
A lifeless form lay sprawled upon the frigid concrete, blood trickling from her lips, shimmering like rubies beneath the pale moonlight. Her eyes, a haunting shade of crimson, held a universe of secrets, countless revelations, yet devoid of any trace of humanity.   
This enigmatic girl, known as Keira, was the last of her lineage, her family brutally extinguished by the hands of a former lover.
 For centuries, she has wandered the earth, seeking the reincarnation of the one who betrayed her in the most despicable manner. 
Those aware of the supernatural tremble at her name, for death and despair cling to her like a relentless shadow, a malignant curse.   
Will they unravel the enigma of their shared, sorrowful history before the sands of time run out, or will Keira thirst for vengeance and her obsession with Silas spell doom for them all?
 Can they uncover the truth behind the massacre of her family? Was Silas the traitor, or does a deeper tale lie hidden in the shadows?

Veiled Secrets

He retraced his steps to his room, gently nudging the door closed behind him without a sound.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he surveyed the chaos that had taken over his space. Weeks had slipped by without a hint of cleaning, leaving a disarray of unwashed socks, crumpled pants, and scattered books littering the dark carpet.

The table was a disaster zone, cluttered with dirty bowls and a mountain of school papers. Determined to tackle the mess, he resolved to clean his room sometime this week, once he found a break from work and college responsibilities.

He made his way to the bathroom, flicking the switch to illuminate the dim space, revealing a large charcoal bathtub nestled in the corner. Approaching the tub, he turned on the faucet, letting warm water flow.

He stepped out briefly to grab the clothes he intended to wear, also snatching up two towels.

Balancing one towel under his arm, he placed the other in the sink before stepping into the water. A frustrated scream erupted from him, "Ahh, it's freezing!"

He quickly leaped out, the icy water clinging to his ankles, and a wave of irritation washed over him.

"Mom, did you start the laundry? The water's ice cold!" he shouted, his voice laced with anger.

Silence hung in the air until a distant voice replied, "Sorry, sweetie, I turned on the laundry. Can you manage a quick cold bath?" With weary eyes, he glared at nothing in particular, taking a deep breath to steady himself, even as his chest rose and fell with mounting frustration.

Cautiously, he stepped back into the water, the biting cold piercing through him like the chill of winter.

He shivered uncontrollably, his teeth chattering in the stillness of the room.

The fatigue that had weighed him down began to dissipate in the icy embrace.

With a loud splash, he sank into the tub, grabbing a bar of soap to wash himself.

"Forget this, it's way too cold; I'm not bathing," he grumbled in exasperation.

He splashes water over himself to wash away the soap, then steps out of the tub, sending droplets cascading onto the towel sprawled on the floor.

Grabbing the towel from the sink, he rubs it over his skin, shivering as the cold air bites at him.Dressed in fresh black attire, he still feels the chill clinging to him.

As he exits the room, he snatches his bag filled with doctor's notes and other essentials, along with his phone.

The dampness of his hair clings to his neck, reminiscent of a lover's embrace.

Entering the kitchen, he snags a piece of bacon and sausage from the plate where his mother sits, earning a fierce glare from her. "Hey, don't take my bacon! I'll kick your butt for that," she warns.

He flashes a cheeky grin and plants a quick kiss on her cheek before she can react.

He steps out the door, which creaks in protest, and is greeted by a cool breeze that warms slightly under the distant sun.

His car comes into view, but an unsettling sensation washes over him, a sudden wave of dread that feels eerily familiar, like a haunting dream.

He shakes his head, letting out a laugh, dismissing the thought that he might be losing his mind.

Frigid, Cold Water