Skip to content
The Fifth Victim
Category: Thriller
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The end.