The Death of Riven Gall

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Riven Gall's life was a mystery and so was her death. A murder to solve. A vengeful boyfriend. A dysfunctional family. An assassin on the loose. She was murdered for reasons only a few knew. After living her life on the line for numerous years, young and beautiful Riven Gall found herself dead on her living room floor. Nobody in Hillsborough knew her well enough; she was strange after all, kept to herself most of the time and had no friends, only an ex-boyfriend with temper issues. Her brother was half a world away, and his presence wasn't welcomed. How could it? Her family was a curse, and her assassin her guardian angel, for he was the one to lead her to her death, and angels are our guides in life... right? It didn't matter. Just like her life, her death was a mystery. She could only hope, as she watched from above, that they could figure her murder out.

Mystery / Other
A. L. Moura
Age Rating:


“Are you at her house yet?”


“Do you have it?”

“It’s nowhere to be found. Is it possible that she is wearing it?”


“Are you sure?”

“Are you questioning me?” The thump of a glass on wood was heard.

“I’m just going through all possible scenarios...Boss.”

“Don’t question me again; just do as you were told.”

“That would be easier if what you told me was actually correct," the person over the phone muttered.

“Your payment is now down by a quarter. I despise disrespect. Don’t let it happen again, or you might have to take your death for granted.”

“The girl is home. There’s a pendant around her neck... it matches the description given.”

“Didn’t I tell you so?” Amusement laced the whiskey scented voice. “Now go and do your job.”

“Who are you?!” A panicked female voice yelled from the other side.

"Ah shit!" Struggling sounds floated over the line as the character on the chair tensed, contact with the girl had not been in the plans.

Soon enough, gurgling sounds were the only onomatopoeia left before thumping steps resounded and a panting voice spoke. “I’ve got the target.”

“Good. Return immediately. Is the girl dead?”

“Copy that. Affirmative.”

The call ended and the hurling of the whiskey glass was enough of a warning to the other residents that someone had failed to do their job, and said someone’s life was coming to an end very soon.

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