Murdle Novelas e Histórias

With that, the sickening crack of bones could be heard as Gerald’s foot completely crushed Vulture’s ribcage…! Drowning in his own blood, Vulture could only manage a gurgle before the life in his eyes vanished… Though his body was now limp and lifeless, Vulture’s eyes retained their furious glare. It almost seemed as though Vulture had still been racking his brains on how to murder Gerald, seconds before his death…

“The masked man?” “No, it wasn’t the masked man that’d tortured Mirabel. It’s a different guy—a ghoul. He goes by the name T-Murek. This freak showed up at my house earlier today. I believe he killed Mirabel just to get to me. A week from now, I’ll also end up dead, just like her-–unless you catch him.” Kevin said, before lowering his voice and looking around at the staring crowd who were listening in on their conversation. “Can we talk someplace private, maybe at your office? I promise, I will explain everything to you.”

TERROR. Intense dread, fright, or fear. A specific instance of being intensely terrified. Memories of the accident were the perfect definition of terror for Dylan Blake. It always felt like he was reliving the moment his car crashed against another and his mind never stopped playing the look of dread in Hannah’s expression as she stared at him. Most importantly, he was terrified of making eye contact with those emerald eyes and knowing there was nothing he could have done to save her. If only his heart hadn’t acted up that night, she might still be next to him.

Murdok barked, and Rori let out a pitiful cry before covering her head with her arms. “Des, a little help please,” Murdok’s tone was calm now and Rori’s body began to relax his voice was so soft and kind when he spoke just then, much the same as it had been when they first met. Rori lowered her arms in time to see Destiny slice Murdok’s finger with a small knife. He smeared the blood on the chain and whispered, “Rori Lovell” the minute Murdok spoke, the chain released from the cuff around Rori’s ankle and her leg crashed to the floor.

That would be silly. In order to get hired by T.H.E.M., you first have to get on their radar. Kill five people without being identified or caught, and you’ve got T.H.E.M.’s attention, even if they don’t know exactly who you are yet. This earns you the label of a Recognized but Unidentified Serial Killer (R.U.S.K.), meaning T.H.E.M. has identified your killings are the work of one person, they just don’t know who you are. Kill ten people without getting caught, and T.H.E.M. will try to recruit you—obviously they’ll have to have identified you before they can recruit you, but T.H.E.M. is very good at identifying serial killers, so if you kill more than ten people without getting identified by

These actions cannot be explained, Navpreet,’ said the inspector gloomily, casting an eye on the mountains. The sub-inspector gave a stiff nod and carefully studied the inspector who seemed to be lost in contemplation. ‘From what I have seen, murders are of two types,’ said the inspector, the tips of his fingers coming together. ‘First are the unplanned ones, committed by people who were suffocated in some way by the acts of the would-be victims. When they see an opportunity, their fear is eclipsed by the pain they have suffered and they strike.’

who had perished a few months before. “He was a right ass to me at the Boudoir,” said Loretta. She threw a snowball at his name. “I wonder if there’s anyone else we hate here,” I said. I meant it as a joke, but Loretta went, “Ooo,” and searched the grave markers. “Ah! That one. Wilbur Wellingsworth. Incubus. Dark Watcher murdered him last summer. I heard he tried to molest his own son, who wasn’t even immortal yet.” She tossed another snowball.

Matthews asked. “H is name is Edwin Wolfgang, a wall street banker, and he has been paying this guys to carry out murders for him all over the world for the past ten years, he has amassed wealth all through this years by selling off his victims collections” Danny said. “Was Ms. Johnson his last victim, or was there someone else in another part of the world that was murdered after her?” DCP Thomas asked. “There was a London based businessman who was murdered on the same night Ms. Johnson was murdered, last week two other people, were killed in a car bomb incident, which we were able to trace to the same group” Danny said.

He likes to refer to them a bottom feeders, vultures or the classic 'fucking freaks' depending on his mood. With all the media coverage that the case had garnered nation wide, he had hordes of people beating the doors down to see it. Everyone had wanted to see the infamous 'murder motel' where the crazy man and his deranged son had kidnapped all those women and then brutally murdered them. Everyone's favorite place to check out was the old well that had held all the bodies of the victims.

He crouched down and tore several blooms from the ground and crushed them in his hands. Connected to the aura of those dying painfully, the no-fur thrashed, knocking Gran’s foot off of him. He sat up, his pink eyes blazing. "Murderer!" The word carried two meanings, one about Gran’s careless slaughter of the pansies and one referring to Turquoise’s unencumbered memory of what had happen the day and night of Terras's murder.