My Murder Book Novels & Stories

His finger slid down to my chest, and my stomach twisted with a sensation I hated myself for feeling. “And I have every right to touch you, my little angel.” Anger exploded in my chest, sharp and reckless. “You think sparing me gives you ownership?” A low chuckle escaped my lips, bitter and dangerous. “This is the fantasy I’ve always dreamed of. And you…” I leaned in, close enough to feel his breath, “You’re the fantasy I’ve always plotted. You didn’t kill me that night because you saw my book, you saw reasons to spare me inside that book.” I whispered, "And since then, I’ve been inside your head.”

That old guy pointed at the bookshelf two rows farther. Ryan found a lot of books there, which caught his eyes. While checking out those, he chose a book “Eye of the evil” written by K. Miller. It was a story of a killer who had two different eye colors. His eyes full of rage, resent, one could see a burning hell in his eyes. How that killer killed all of his prey with his own designed equipment and the reasons behind murders, caught in Ryan’s attention. He bought this book.

I sat beside her, and she immediately stretched her legs back out, her feet landing in my lap. "What are you reading?" She held up the book without looking away from the page. "A mystery novel. A detective in Victorian London." I caught sight of the cover. A woman in a low-cut dress leaned against a man in a top hat, their faces inches apart in the fog. The Scarlet Letter Murders. I grabbed the book from her hands. "Hey!" She sat up, reaching for it. I flipped through a few pages. My eyes landed on a passage. His mouth found the hollow of her throat as his fingers worked the laces of her corset…

A picture of a trash bag appeared on the screen, together with a couple of blurred pixels of blood around it. “The police are now investigating what they have believed to be a murder.” Alice felt her thumping heart slowed. It was scary to think that there might be a murderer out there, but at least, it was not someone she knew. At least, it was not her fault. “That’s terrifying,” Wilson commented as he watched the news with her. “First, it was your friend, then now, this. This town is starting to crawl with dangerous people.” That night, Alice had a hard time sleeping. She shifted on her bed multiple times, she counted sheep and got herself a nice glass of warm milk, but the drowsiness of sl

I was once the Pythia, an oracle of Apollo. After marrying the late king, I became known as the Oracle Priestess. When my husband died in battle, I faked my death and returned to the temple. From then on, I devoted myself to protecting the capital with the gods' blessing. Then one day, they brought my daughter's body into the temple. She was covered in raw, unhealed wounds, and her eyes were still open. The attendants tossed her body, wrapped in nothing but a straw mat, onto the floor. Then they stood nearby whispering. "Poor princess. The king cared more about the Rose of Highcourt than his own sister. He let her suffer until her wounds became infected and she died in agony. "King Theron wa

Her shoulders trembled. The prosecutor continued. "Forensic analysis shows the child didn't die instantly. If he had received timely medical treatment, his survival rate would have exceeded 70 percent. It was the defendant who personally prevented rescue efforts and directly caused her son's death. "This was not negligence, and it wasn't an accident. It was a premeditated murder. She simply killed the wrong person." Esther's lawyer had no response. In the end, the judge brought down the gavel. Esther Lawson was found guilty of intentional homicide and sentenced to 15 years in prison.

He said, not sounding convinced. I turned my back away from him to face his bedside table and grabbed a book. I read the title, ‘See You In My Dreams’. Oh, I know this! “Hey, I’ve watched a movie version of this book! I didn’t know it was based on a novel. It was a great murder mystery film. And the plot twist was amazing! Did you know that the main character—”

He always carries it with him. Slowly realization dawned upon her. Her hands started to tremble. She understood everything. The murderer was from inside the castle. Always been inside. Always been one of them. Her own blood. Her brother. ‘How could he kill him? His own father?’, she looked imploring at Argus. Tears were streaking silently down her eyes, upon her cheeks onto her lap. Her face was contorted with pain. The death of her father and the betrayal of her brother was too much to handle for her.

He dropped his flowers and left. So that was the truth. He never chose Molly If only she’d confessed sooner Just as I thought the cemetery was now empty, a man dressed in black stepped through the iron gates. An umbrella shielded him from the relentless rain, hiding most of his face. His footsteps were slow and deliberate, the wet grass muffling every sound beneath his polished shoes. There was something strangely familiar about the way he carried himself. No. It couldn’t be. As he drew closer, my breath caught in my throat.

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