Novelas y relatos de What Is Agatha Christie's Best-selling Novel

I protested to my parents in either skipping the school or transferring to another school but they forced me to be here as this is the only school which is best. I reserved a place in one of the seats available though nobody was there. I kept my bag and went in search of a nice book. I went to the thriller books section and searched for a book, perfect for reading at this moment. ‘The black coffee’ by Agatha Christie, the great author, caught my eyes as I wanted to read this book for a very long time but I didn’t get to.

“A person exposed to this poison is dead within 15 minutes. Not even a werewolf could fight off an attack on their muscles.” “What made you think to look outside the magical world?” Hunter looked impressed with Benji’s quick thinking. “Christine Agatha.” Benji beamed. “That night, Gregory told me to pack just a few essentials since my parents were going to ship me my stuff later on since we were in a rush. I picked a few books, not paying attention to which ones and I guess I grabbed one of her murder mystery novels. She’s famous for using poisons to kill off her victims in her books. Her book got me thinking and I put my theory to the test, and we got our answer.”

He started with the known fact I knew about her. "Okay, but what was her powers about?". I placed one hand on the table and waited for his response _ Mom was also there, but she left Dad to answer every one of my questions. " Her powers? " He paused for a few minutes and then started talking, " Agatha her powers were beyond compare, but do you want to know a secret?" He ogled at the end of his statement. "A secret? Please tell me," I replied, and he said, "You just like her, even more powerful; you only have to be able to access your witch Power". He grinned with pride.

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…

Agatha, a frail figure with weathered features, sat in a worn armchair by the fireplace, her piercing gaze fixed upon me. “You've come,” she say, her voice laced with a mixture of weariness and anticipation. “The chosen one walks among us once again.” I approach her cautiously, my eyes drawn to the ancient books surrounding her, their faded spines whispering secrets of forgotten ages. “Agatha,” I began, my voice betraying both determination and trepidation. “I seek your guidance. The Night Howlers have fallen under a curse that plagues our lineage.” Agatha nodded knowingly, her eyes glimmering with ancient wisdom. Yes, child,” she replied, her voice carrying the weight of centuries. “The cu

Just past the first turn, she realised there was no house, no village in front of her, only a long stretch of whiteness bordered by snow-powdered hedges without a telltale rise in smoke in the distance. She didn't dare look up again for a long while. Time lost all meaning as she walked onward, her cheeks stinging, then without feeling, as hints of eventide crept in behind the melancholy December sky. It was then that Betty murmured an almost forgotten prayer from her childhood……...a little something to her guardian Angel begging an entree to paradise. ………………………….. She awoke stretching contentedly. Staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling, it took her a few moments to determine where she was, but