The Dark Murders
- Reads 113
- Votes 7
- Parts 6
Bad things happen for a reason. Nothing is better when you accidentally "witness". Times two that... Witness two... Two bloody murders. Well... I'm in grave danger.
Welcome to my world.
I maybe a bit weird, but whatever that's the gothic in me. I didn't care about a lot of stuff, the college I hated, the quarterback football star that's literally trying to get in my pants. No offense. But yet I did care, I needed good grades. Something to get me away from New York
It wasn't til I witnessed something terrible. Right place but wrong time. They saw me. They're after me now for what I saw.
Do I get the Police involved ? What's next ?!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hayden Alexander St. Clare. Manhattan's most finest FBI Agent. For months he's been trying to catch serial killers, and his most case hasn't been closed. Until now. His lead suspect informs him that they're out to kill. Again. St. Clare wants them behind bars, or even dead. Until.... There's a murder.
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'The night was alive with silence. I moved through it like a shadow, black leather gloves tight on my hands, boots soft against the grass. My gas mask hid my face, leaving only darkness where my eyes should be. The world narrowed to a single point: the house ahead. Tonight, it would belong to me. The farmhouse rose stark and white beneath the moonlight, silent except for the occasional grunt of a pig or the low hum of a cow. They were unaware. They were insignificant. I crouched behind the hedge, eyes scanning, senses alert. Every detail mattered: the flicker of light across the curtains, the faint rustle of movement inside, the way a shadow shifted across the floor. She was there. Oblivious. Popcorn in hand, murmuring to herself as the television flickered. Every motion was a note in tonight's symphony, and I was the conductor. I studied her, cataloging. Timing. Patterns. Fear. She didn't notice me yet, and that was perfect. Patience was everything. One sound, one misstep, and it could all unravel. I rang the doorbell once. Silence. Again. Still nothing. She flinched slightly, just enough to make my pulse quicken. Her small reaction was delicious. A sudden movement in the yard caught my eye-a neighbor's dog barking at some unseen intruder. Its voice was loud, startling, but contained. I froze. My breath slowed. Patience. Observation. The dog's curiosity would pass. I remained still, hidden in shadow, letting the moment stretch. The animal lost interest and padded away. Perfect. I moved to the back of the house, hammer in hand.' ...
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