Bloody Mary Candle Novels & Stories

Mason pulled a lighter from his pocket, and while she lingered near the door, he lit candles around the room, filling it with a flickering orange glow. “Very convenient mood lighting,” she said as he walked back to her. He smiled. His face was cast in strange shadows in the candlelight, and he looked even darker and more mysterious. “I have a bit of a weakness for candles. Mrs Abigail says the aromatherapy will help with anxiety,” he said. “Wait...we haven’t been in this bedroom before.”

The fragrance filled the room, creating an atmosphere of calm and serenity. Next, I lit the candles. I had chosen a variety of sizes and shapes, all in soft, muted colors that complemented the lavender of my nightgown. Their flickering flames cast a gentle, golden glow throughout the bathroom, their light dancing on the walls and ceiling. The candles added a touch of magic to the room, transforming it into a sanctuary where I could escape from the world and its troubles.

“Guys…this feels legit. Like…witchcraft legit.” Sky beamed. “Thank you. I pride myself on authenticity.” Charlie sighed. Loudly. “These candles are eighty percent wax and twenty percent chemical fragrance. The only spirit you’re calling is Bath & Body Works.” Sky ignored him and crouched beside the candles, lifting her hands like some medium. “Who wants to join the circle?” she asked. Half the room practically trampled each other trying to volunteer. Tyler, the eternally doomed lunch-money thief, was shoved forward first.

The living room had been stripped of furniture, leaving only a white table adorned with candles and scattered rose petals in the center. The soft glow of the candles highlighted Marco's features, casting shadows across his face. It was a surreal sight, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze as I took it all in.

A pathetic weapon against a sentient forest. I flicked it. The flame sparked to life. I touched it to the nearest vine, a thick tendril creeping over a root. Nothing. The flame licked at the waxy surface but wouldn’t catch. It was like trying to light wet rubber. I cursed, shoving the lighter back. My mind raced through my meager inventory. The candle. The weird white candle from the ferry ticket-taker. A low-grade Artifact with a ‘purifying’ tag I didn’t fully understand.

“Milk this candle with your virgin cunt. Soak it. Show me how much you love being ruined by your holy guardian.” Even as her orgasm began to ebb, he did not stop. He kept the thick red candle buried deep inside her, pumping it in and out with slower but still powerful strokes, drawing out every last shudder. Her pussy was red and swollen, stretched wide around the base of the candle, leaking profusely. Father Damien pulled the candle out almost completely, admiring the messy sight of her ruined hole and the candle glistening with her cream and blood. Then he pushed it back in to the hilt, making her whimper again.

I gasped, staring at the massive boxes. “Not enough,” he muttered, tearing into the first one. I limped over, glancing inside at an array of bright pink candles in every size. Bending down, I plucked one from the packaging, turning it over in my hand. My eyes watered as I stared at the label. It was glittery and covered in an intricate design of roses in shades of peaches and pinks. “The Perfect Mate,” I whispered, reading what he’d named the candle. Plucking the gemstone studded lid from the candle, I inhaled, gasping at the beautiful fruity-floral scent inside, “Is this really what I smell like?”

Mark had paid $25,000 for it ten years ago. Next to each side of the bed was a matching ebony nightstand each of which supported massive candelabra containing five black candles which were all currently lit. This set had come from a castle in Ireland and had been given to Mark by a witch of some repute. Upon closer inspection the flames were small glass light bulbs, afraid of a fire Mark had them wired. The effect was made even more realistic by the fact that they were set to flicker. On the wall over each of these were paintings by none other than Megan Decosta herself, however not the successful one of today but the struggling one of twenty years ago who at the time was convinced she could

The men ogled me like I was a treasure freshly unwrapped and meant for their possession, while the women's eyes burned like pure venom. I took a sharp breath, just as I tried to avert my gaze, my eyes caught sight of Madam Morveth, in a blink, she was gone. “A message for the demon!” a little child screamed distracting my gaze, he walked up to the stage where I knelt, then whispered into my face, eyes pierced mine with undoubted certainty. “You shall be haunted by desire…” A quick chuckle escaped his lips. “…and nothing more.”

Ava's worked best when she refused to let panic become policy. The apartment was full of candles. Saints, ancestors, lost pets, missing children, accident victims, nameless dead. Flame after flame burned in colored glass. Local fire. Local merit. The Candle Lady kept a shrine in a laundromat sink. She sold flame by the minute to people who needed to speak to the dead but feared full darkness. No system message appeared at first. This place had its own language. Ava knelt before the candles. Ava wiped rain from her eyes. "If this law turns pain into romance, I am burning the filing cabinet."