Bloody Genius Novels & Stories

she snapped, “I need to get back the shop before the boss has my head. Is this about the Bloody Barbies again?” Bloody Barbie was the nickname Maria gave to the murders ever since she’d gotten involved as a suspect. It was an apt name. Each crime scene that had been investigated was painted red with each victim’s blood, and in each one there would be a bloody doll left behind (though, not exactly a Barbie), no less than three feet away from the body.

And what is happening in there town? They don't understand at all, and why this horrible act is happening in their town? All of them stood there stretching there head in confusion; trying to figure out why people are dying, and who is responsible for this terrible action, from that day forward they called it BLOODY DAY! To me, this is a big mystery that can't never be solved. ( This Story continued) ATTENTION READERS: This book have different series book 2-9

I answered. He sighed, brushing the part between his brows. "Someone get the girl out of here. Aish _puttana_." (Italian-puttana —Whore) Bang! I gasped, the box dropping to the floor as I stared at the scene before me. It happened so fast, I couldn't find my voice to scream. Blood dripped down the black rug and across the marble tiles, running through the thin lines of the tiles. The man who had spoken laid on the table, a bullet in his head and his eyes wide open.

“He was the smartest person to ever walk the earth, Issac had an IQ of 190, William had an IQ between 250 and 300. I test at 313” I blink looking back to drake “You haven’t been tested yet?” “I tested myself already. But I’ll still do the other test to prove it.” “Hang on who is William and why has nobody ever heard of him?” “Because both his parents were genus’s, they pushed him to learn and he started Harvard when he was 11 and finished his bachelor degree at 16. Anyway he hated being in the limelight and took small jobs here and there, avoiding people until he died. By the end he didn’t even talk to his parents. But thankfully you and daddy aren’t genius’s so we should be ok”

"What do you want to know, Bloom?" I shrugged lightly. "Favourite colour—and movie?" Zac's eyes squinted as he chuckled. He hummed for a moment. "Blue and Pulp Fiction." I nodded slowly. "Why blue?" His head cocked to the side as he looked out ahead at the world sprawled out in front of us. "It reminds me of the ocean." I bit on my bottom lip to stop my smile from stretching miles. I would have never seen it coming—Zac Miller being soft and sentimental. It was endearing.

he argued. Those words shattered the last of Teresa's sanity. She snatched up a gun from the table and opened fire at him. The bullet tore through Emilio's shoulder, and the chamber erupted into chaos. In the end, the Soldati had to wrestle the gun away from her before the situation spiraled further. From then on, Teresa went insane. She drifted back and forth between brief moments of clarity and utter madness, spending every single day weeping over the wedding photo of Damiano and me as she repeated, "I killed Bianca. I killed my grandchild."

If someone is clever enough to manipulate footage, disciplined enough to leave no trace and ruthless enough to eliminate every pawn after using them, Fabrizio thought deeply, then he is certainly clever enough to hide himselves. That thought lingered in Fabrizio’s mind. It wasn’t fully formed, but it was clear enough to bring about an undeniable realisation. They weren’t chasing an ordinary criminal. They were dealing with someone who was always one step ahead. *

“It’s about the child of prophecy.” A chill seeps into my bones, and my fists clench at my sides. The silence in the room seems to thicken. “What about it?” “The child of prophecy is a male,” Gaza replies. “Born of royal blood, and can be identified by the colour of his hair.” My neck tilts. “Hair colour? What’s the colour?” He straightens, eyes burning a strange orange colour before returning to its normal amber. “White.” A sharp inhale sounds.

Someone mumbled, "Don't look into the cat's eyes." After undergoing all this, I wanted to end my life. It was getting complicated, and I had no more power to endure beyond. With closed eyes, I perceived strange energy. As if I was moving without actually moving. It was tricky to explain what that feeling was, after all. I turned my head around with my eyes slightly opened and found the same appearance. His eye shape was narrow, and the color was golden brown. His bloody red hair was somewhat wavy, and some of his hair was covering his left eye.