Novel & Cerita Riddles Murders

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

THIRD PERSON POV He quickened his pace, stopping in front of a heavy steel door. A keypad blinked beside it, demanding another code. His phone buzzed again. Another message from the unknown number: “Final test. Solve this, or she dies.” Attached was a riddle: “I’m taken from a mine, and shut inside a wooden case, from which I am never released. What am I?” Mason’s mind raced. The captors were toying with him, but he didn’t have time to waste. He focused on the riddle, breaking it down.

Nobody really wants to be murdered. After Rita’s bloody demise, which was traced to the man who lived two floors under her, Eddie ceased to live. The enormous change it wreaked on his life, the visions he saw behind his eyes when he went to sleep, the sly glances the police gave him as they ceaselessly questioned him down at the station, until the real murderer found, of course . . . This haunted a man. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, do it again. Ever. End of story.

MALACHI By dawn, the grim reality of the night’s events began to surface. Reports of multiple murders trickled in, each more gruesome than the last. The police had already cordoned off the crime scenes, but the details leaked out: the killings were the work of a single, methodical individual. Each victim had been mutilated, their hearts surgically removed and their bodies mangled, with several key bones missing from the skeletal remains. The motive was a void, and the selection of homes seemed entirely random, scattered across the territory with no discernible pattern.

I've had that feeling before and it's still fresh in my memory. “She went up to check on Lila,” I responded, striking a pose as I watched my claws grow longer until they reached their limits. My fangs stuck out of the corner of my mouth, ready to devour whoever would stand in my way. “We have a murderer in the building, maybe more than one. We're not sure.” I spoke with my voice steady and intentional. His brow shot up in a questioning manner. “Morinda was murdered.” His brow twitched as realization dawned on him, he understood the hidden meaning in my words.

Elva said trying to remember where she saw them. " So you've Clearfield that they are your maids?" I asked, looking at her. " Yes, kind of," she said, still trying to remember where she saw them. " So that means the murderer is still in the castle, because this one over here, I mean the one who was stabbed or from scratch because the one on her neck went really deep, deep enough to kill her. Wait, so the murderer is a wolf, but what kind of wolf is he or she, because the person didn't remove their clothes or anything? Just killed them, why? For fun or revenge or warning or…" I was stopped by Elva's annoyed voice.

' 'Gloria is a murderer. 'Who was murdered?' 'She killed her husband and pups, and guess what? She's absolutely not sorry.'

It was a simple little cottage. Raven was just a simple girl working in a company, living in a small house from her earnings to the town. One day, that would change. One day, she'll move from the wretched Domsville, where every second was a risk. Nobody knows her as RD, except for her crew. Nobody knows anything about the murderer except for the fact that a tattoo of the two letters, RD, was permanently on his or her back. She let the police figure it out with a mistake.

He seemed to be in high blood. "But I'm not them, sir. And maybe I can solve it. Think of it, that maybe there's a connection between the recent case and the case a year ago. Which Mikey is holding now. And maybe there's only one killer, because the method of killing is the same as before," I said quietly. I was shivering. "But that's a maybe, Miss Chan, and maybe a kind of coincidence." "I don't think so, sir."

-———————————————————— A week after Rico’s death, the police report was released, the headline flashing across newspapers and television screens: **"Detective Rico Morales Found Dead in Apparent Suicide." At the precinct, detectives gathered in somber silence, discussing the details of the report. The forensic team had found a glass laced with poison, Rico’s fingerprints smudged across it, alongside a handwritten suicide note. The note was short but sorrowful, expressing his regret over his failures in solving recent high-profile cases, including those of his friends Jack and Carlos.