Who murdered me? A thriller story by Ananya Ray

                                        

Money is the root of all evil. This is my favourite saying. My story just proves this. ‘Morning Felicity De La!’ I thought to myself when I just awoke this morning. I got up, brushed my teeth, bathed, then put on a dash of makeup. While I was bathing, I realized I had a bullet inside my skin. I quickly wore my clothes and drove to my doctor. He confirmed that it was indeed a bullet and that I should have been dead. I was shocked! Who would want to kill a dress designer who was nobody special..yet? The doctor and I decided to do a medical investigation to see if any of my organs were affected by the impact of the bullet. My doctor later came out saying that I had no pulse, no heartbeat, nothing. I was dead, yet I could walk, talk, sleep, eat, and other people could see me. I quickly rushed home after thanking my doctor. I decided to create a dress inspired by death. With long black chiffon sleeves, a V-neck, and pitch-black cloth, it represented death, at her worst. 

Just then a knife whooshed past me, hitting the mannequin beside me. I quickly hid behind my cupboard and waited till the coast was clear. The mystery assassin, dressed in black, came inside my room. The assassin pushed the cupboard pressing me to the wall. I was crushed. Then the assassin picked up the knife and stabbed me with it in the heart. I thought I was gone, but then I realized I was already dead. Ignoring my pain, I snatched the assassin's knife and stabbed the assassin with it. The assassin, realizing defeat, retreated. I sat on the floor hugging my knees, shocked, ‘Did I just harm a person? Will the police come to arrest me? Why does someone want to kill me?’ After these thoughts buzzed through my head, I decided to clean my wounds. It had been an hour and I guessed my wounds would have clotted by now. But… lo, my wounds were gone, leaving no scar behind! I came to the conclusion that I could be harmed but not killed.

I resolved to clear my mind and take this matter of finding my killer into my own hands. I cast a quick glance around my room looking for clues. I found a white paper with a green lip stain and a white cross on it. It was not mine. Heck, I didn’t own any lipstick, much less a green one. I rushed out of my room and went to maisonette De La where Jacqueline De La, my twin sister, who was my closest friend, and a Gendarmerie activist (a military force active within civilians) currently resides. Once I arrived there, she made me a glass of mint mojito, which I absolutely adored. I recounted my story to her, making her fall off her chair, literally. I also asked her for some help in tracking my killer by showing her the paper. After searching for a really short time on her police computer in her bureau, she found the gang the assassin belonged to. It was the gang de tueurs.

I nearly fainted hearing their name. Gang de Tueurs was the ultimate assassin gang, but they were demolished by the Le Paris Government. After searching for a few more minutes, she said there was another group claiming to be the Gang de Tuers living in an abandoned building. I decided to go prepared. I brought out my sling and created a few papier-mâché balls to bonk the Tuers in the head. En route to the building, I had a suspicion that it was my riche enemy designer/stinky spoiled brat, Adèle Du Poudré who was trying to kill me. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bomb dropped on me. I thought I was gone, but then I realized I couldn’t die. I quickly ran away from the bomb, ignoring my injuries. They soon healed up after a few minutes. I had now officially found the suspect. I decided to switch my destination and instead have a little rendezvous with her father. I messaged her father who just happened to be my uncle.

“Oncle Raphaël, how have you been?” I asked. “I have been in good health, dear niece,” he replied. Then I went straight to business and told him everything except the fact that I could not die. After I finished, he decided to take a look to see if the culprit was Adèle. After thanking him for taking these drastic measures, I decided to meet Adèle and ask why she did all this. Just when I was about to, I saw Oncle Raphaël talking to a man dressed in black. The man looked like the assassin. To listen to what they were talking about, I went towards them and started recording them for evidence as it looked like shady business. “Why is that stupid girl still alive? I told you to drop a bomb on her,” he asked the assassin. “She somehow managed to survive. Don’t worry, master. I will kill her sooner or later,” replied the assassin. “Well, do it quickly. She is suspicious and bold enough to investigate,” he ordered angrily. The assassin jumped to obey. 

“Once that girl is dead, my Adèle will win over the fashion industry and we will be the richest people on the Earth. Adèle has been losing too many times because of that girl. Like father, like daughter. Her dad used to win all the time,” he muttered. I took this evidence to the police and they put Oncle Raphaël in jail along with the assassin who in fact was an original member of the gang du tueur. Adèle disappeared once she found out that her father was caught. Was she part of the plot? That I may never know. After all this drama, I went back to creating wonderful dresses and my ability remained a secret. I made sure that high-quality dresses meant Felicity De La from my brand Chic De La. This is my story with a pretty good ending because I always remembered, Money is the root of all evil.

Written by:

Ananya Ray

Who murdered me? A thriller story by Pranav Mekaraj

   

                    

I was a twenty-four-year- old adult, and I had just received my two-year salary. I came home feeling jolly. Suddenly, as I took out the money from my pocket, I saw a pair of eyes at the window. I quickly kept the money in my cupboard and went to investigate. As I closed the cupboard door, I looked back just to be smashed on my head with a lampshade by a person I vaguely recognized. I was instantly killed. After a while, I woke up and flew out of my dead remains. There was no sign of my killer. Right then and there, I vowed to myself that I would not rest till I found my killer and had him executed. The next morning, I was wandering around the street right in front of many people. It seemed as though they couldn’t see me. Suddenly, a little boy who couldn’t be older than ten pointed me out. “What is that?!” he screeched, in a petrified voice. For the first time since I died, I looked at myself. I was a monster!

I quickly ran and hid behind the nearest dumpster. By then, the little child had overcome his fright and walked over toward the ghost. He stood beside me, with his jaw falling out in awe. “Are you a ghost?...” he was quivering with fear. “Yes,” I replied while trying to avoid his gaze. Then suddenly, it hit me. If he was the only one who could see me, maybe he could help me on my quest. “I am trying to find out who murdered me. Can you help me on my adventure?” I desperately inquired, “You are the only one who can see and help me.” “Okay, but first we need to get back to my house in case someone hears me talking to you.” As we headed back, he explained that he would tell the police that his friend had been murdered. He would show them the house, and they would try to find the murderer. I would have to tell him all the details about the person I saw before I died. My only job would be to sit and wait.

“He was a short fat male, with a mask around his nose. He had greenish-blue eyes and killed me using the Lighto company lampshade. He walked with a slight limp on the right foot,” I described to the boy. “What was your name?” he inquired. “My name was Madan. What’s yours?” I was curious too. “I’m Mehul,” he answered. I found myself a nice and quiet spot in the corner of a park to sit and wait. Meanwhile, Mehul was telling his parents that he would be out for a while and would be back by nightfall. His parents gave him a little bit of money for food, and he set off on his escapade. The police station was fourteen blocks away and was a fifteen-minute walk. After reaching, he explained the case to the nearest officer. “Where are your parents?” the officer questioned. “They have gone to Scotland for a month while my grandmother is sick,” he lied. He explained the case to the officer, and they set off toward my house. 

Once they reached, I decided to take the chance and spy on them through the window. “Drops of blood on the ground!” the officer exclaimed while Mehul was cowering in fear at the sight. They led towards the door of my neighbour. Then I thought, “Didn’t my neighbour Prajwal have green-ish blue eyes?” I beckoned Mehul to come towards me. I told him to tell the officer about it. Suddenly, the officer bellowed something about a piece of a knife outside Prajwal’s house. Mehul and I immediately rushed to the spot. Slowly, the officer forced the door open. There he was! My murderer lying on the couch, fast asleep still wearing that mask with the other piece of the knife on the side table. The officer woke him up and instantly handcuffed him. Strangely though, Prajwal seemed to be able to see me as he was looking in my direction with wide eyes. The officer pushed him into the police car, I snuck in, and we drove back.

Once we reached, Prajwal was taken to the interrogation chamber. The officer kept hitting him with a whip while asking him questions. As soon as Prajwal stopped answering, he was hit like a prisoner until he continued. After the extraction of information, the officer explained to Mehul that Prajwal had just lost his job and couldn’t pay off the mortgage of his house, so he tried to get the money by robbing people. It was decided that for committing this crime he would be executed the following day. Just then, I remembered to ask Mehul to ask the officer where Prajwal had kept my money. The officer said that it was on the 3rd shelf of a cupboard which was beside the TV. Later in the day, we went to Prajwal’s house and retrieved the money. I gifted the stack of one hundred dollar bills to Mehul for helping me find my murderer.

The following day, Mehul and I came to watch the execution. Prajwal screamed, thrashed, and begged for mercy while the police dragged him to the noose. I closed my eyes as I did not wish to see the execution. We went to the officer immediately after it was done to thank him for his help and support in finding my murderer. Mehul gave him two hundred dollars from his stash and we left. I watched Mehul over the months spend his money on various items which he kept in a secret stash in his room which his parents did not know about. These items consisted of notebooks, headlamps, and many other tools that most detectives used. He even went to a detective school. Mehul died forty-two years ago, and I still miss him. To this day, I still wander aimlessly about the same house where I was murdered.

Written by:

Pranav Mekaraj