Read Mystery Novels & Stories

It had taken his breath away. Byron was sending an e-mail to someone who he thinks he can help. The one who's in-charge of the investigation, being a master of psychology himself, Byron loved a good mystery. And from the expression on his face, this appeared to give him mysterigasm. A term he made up.

the mysterious man carried the injured one on his back, “Follow me.” Throughout the way, the other one tried to recognize the mysterious man. Surprisingly, they crossed the electric barrier without even triggering the security alarm! “Get on the ambulance!” he ordered while eyeing the road. Getting inside, the other one noticed that the mysterious man signaled someone and soon the security alarm got triggered, making an ear-deafening sound and shutting the electric barrier. When he got inside, the other one recognized, “You!!!!”

Chenyin asked to Master Qiang with curiosity. Master Qiang take a book in his hand and asked to Chenyin, "Look at the book Chenyin, can you tell me what is this?" "No master." "It is my secret book. There are many secret skills in this book. Today I am going to teach you some secrets." Master Qiang replied to Chenyin. Hearing this, Chenguang could not control herself.

In an instant, the broken door greet me with deep mystery, as if it deserve to be broken in any way? “What I'm even thinking?”

The mansion, once a familiar space, seemed to take on a new aura of mystery as they traversed secret passages and discovered the layers of stories that Sterling Manor held. The hidden room, illuminated by the soft glow of an old chandelier, held relics of the past – letters, photographs, and artifacts that told a tale of love, sacrifice, and a twist that had remained concealed for years. The echoes of the mystery seemed to reverberate through the room, inviting Victoria and Alexander to uncover the truth that lay beneath the surface.

It looks like I'm an intelligent high school girl who knows everything. The eternal mystery of the world is its comprehensibility. One may say the eternal history but the true mystery of the world is visible, not the invisible . Accepting the unknown and unknowable eliminates regrets. Seirah Ransel says that once, a human belong to the ever first made council. Mystery alone is the definition of liberation, hostility, and fear. A mystery of unknown. I followed Shiloh to where he was going, it seemed like we were going down. I moved the branches when it was obstructing my way. I am moving slowly as the ground is slippery.

I close that door and move to the next room. I open the door to the master bedroom. This is where my amulet is. I know it. I need to find a jewelry box. I scan the room, looking for a box that my mother kept her jewelry in, and I see nothing. I reach into my back pocket and pull out the map. I need a little help here.

The weight of betrayal hung heavy in the air, suffocating my every breath. It all started with a simple gesture of curiosity, a single moment of weakness that led me down a path I never could have imagined. In my quest for answers, I stumbled upon a series of encrypted messages on Alex's laptop. The contents were cryptic, filled with coded language and veiled intentions. I couldn't resist the urge to delve deeper, to uncover the truth that lay beneath the surface.

He couldn’t just tell me he loved me—he had to make it some mystery. I push back from my desk, tension coiling out of me like smoke. Fine. If he wants a reaction, he’s not going to get one from me. I grab my travel mug and head to the small kitchenette in the corner, filling it with water, pouring black coffee grounds into the filter. As the machine hums, I let out a long sigh, the bitter aroma a small comfort in the chaos of my thoughts. The quiet is broken by a familiar voice. “Hey! Come look at this!”

Before entering the school, I heard a few things about this mysterious place situated on the mountainous side of Mystic Heights, a city in the heart of London. Mystic Academy, as it was known, was a mixed school primarily for kids with some uniqueness from wealthy homes. The requirements to get in seemed unattainable for mere humans, as I learned. It had a reputation as a school for "freaks," and the general belief was that only freaks would gain admission. That label didn't bother me much, considering I'd been called a freak all my life by my stepmother and her children—even their friends. My stepmother often locked me up in the cellar, praying for God to unpossess me, as she believed I was