Murder Mysteries Short Stories Novels & Stories

11:54 11:55 11:56 11:59 12:00 Once the clock stroked 12, a shiver ran down my spine ,my body was aching for a release and he wasn’t in sight yet. I heaved a sigh,as the clock stroked 12:20 a few minutes later. The library had a few people in it but nevertheless I decided to go round placing books back where they were meant to be. I took off my jacket and started going round, placing books back, I got to the back row of the library , it didn’t have a enough light, so people hardly sat there to read, there was a book on one of the tables. It was a Novel by Ana huang famous author for the twisted series, it was Twisted hate and the open page was one the steamy hate sex scenes between Jules and

Detective Harry Macmillan was in an office at Scotland Yard, who had taken an oath herself, to find the murderer of Willemina Winchester; she was analyzing some papers, they were the notes on how the body had been found, with a couple of holes in the neck, some of the funeral service agents and others said with fear; "It must be a vampire", "or some demonic being", those were the rumors that ran through the streets of the city, in the other bodies that had been found the marks were the same, he had his fountain pen between his lips and his nose, he thoughtfully read each one of those notes.

My mother, Samantha, believed I was born a liar. Because she was deceived by my father's sweet words in her youth and abandoned after giving birth to me and my sister, Mia, she harbored a deep, bitter hatred for lies. She begged a witch for two magic rings. The rule was simple: if the wearer lied, the ring would glow red and burn them with magic. Mia's ring never hurt her, even when she broke a vase and blamed it on me. But if I simply said, "I'm thirsty," my ring would sear my flesh until I screamed. At first, I tried to defend myself, but Mom would just say, "The ring doesn't lie. Only through repeated punishment can your wicked soul be cleansed." After thousands of burns, even I started t

I grabbed Linda's head and forced her to face me as I screamed at her almost hysterically. "Tell me! How did my parents really die?!" A deafening crash sounded outside as police officers broke through the door. They approached Linda and showed their badges. "We've found evidence linking you to a murder committed many years ago. You need to come with us and cooperate with the investigation." Linda trembled so fiercely that she could not speak. Another officer approached Jenny. "Ms. Jenny Moore, the weight-loss biotechnology company registered under your name is suspected of illegally harvesting fat cells. You'll need to come with us as well."

Yes, that sounds like the perfect headlines. No one will know what had actually happened, what had actually transpired, or why all of this started in the first place. The world will only know what is being said today. They will only know the characters of this story in the way we portray them. Joslyn Airam, the innocent millionaire who was murdered. Lara Ahdieur, the broke classmate who murdered out if jealousy. Katelyn Akirdnach, the falsely accused friend. Roselyn Arahoz, the friend to come in the rescue. Benjamin Sinklare, the broken hearted fiancé.

Yet I am even willing to lose myself to obtain that girl. At this moment, vivid images of Natasha are flashing in my mind. She hopped here and there, dancing with grace, and then gazed at the bouquet and card with wide-eyed wonder and threw it into the dustbin. Her charm is truly eye-catching. On the other hand, her story seems different, and truly remarkable. She has a lot of talent. Her story proposal was about a dark murder fiction, where a woman is killed, and a lawyer and a police officer handle the case to find the real culprit behind the murder. Her story has only a few episodes, so it would be easy to finish it early.

He tore his eyes away from the gruesome story as Blakeney began. “I received a call tonight from a friend of mine who is the lead detective on one of the murder cases that have been plaguing the east coast for the last month. As you may know, we have alumni in place in various organizations and police agencies throughout the country that alert me to anything which may be of our interest.” Blakeney paused to let that sink in. “Especially in these dangerous times. As soon as my source heard the 9-1-1 call placed immediately after the murder, she found it peculiar and moved to compare that specific one with the others. Something interesting was found,” he said, now passing around printouts to e

“Ms. Mills…” The name rang a bell, but it took Freyja a while before she finally remembered it. Rooftop, suicide… Wasn’t this a scene in her script? Norman continued to pace around. “Do you remember it now?” Freyja let out a chuckle suddenly and said, “Ms. Mills didn’t kill herself in my script. In all of the mystery cases and detective fiction, all victims will always be revealed to be killed by other people.”

She saw street childrens then she gave the one fries that should be for her, Cindy has a nice and purest heart even many people harass her whenever they want, She was closed by her mother, Stella, she was at the other side of road, She called her mother while showing what she have, When Stella closed at her part, she got bumped by a car, Stella flies like a bird because the impact of the car, Cindy runs quickly to her mother, the food she's holding wasted because she threw it out of shock, The car who bumped Stella runs so fast, the driver didn't even check Stella if she's okay, Cindy was in panic, she doesn't even know the car plate of the suspect, A lot of blood from Stella was flowing, Ci

“After you left, Grahame sent me a text message cancelling the golf because it was raining and before I could reply DI Silver rang me asking me for his help” “What happened?” “Man had been murdered,” I stated, taking a gulp from my drink. “Whereabouts?” “Magnolia Close.” Kimberley put down her glass. “Pretty exclusive setting for a murder, isn’t it?” “Murder has no class distinction, Kimberley. She shook her head. “How was he murdered?” “Shot while standing at his bedroom window,” I said, noticing that I had already demolished most of my pint. “So far none of the neighbours that have been spoken to saw or heard anything.”