"The Night of the The Night of the First Murder"
Chapter 1:
The Night of the First Murder
The jungle was unnaturally silent that night.
Not the kind of silence that brings peace, but the kind that makes your skin crawl.
The moon hung low in the sky, its pale light slipping through the thick canopy of trees, barely touching the narrow road that cut through the forest.
James had been driving for almost thirty minutes now.
His car headlights carved a thin tunnel of light ahead, revealing twisted branches, uneven ground, and shadows that seemed to move on their own. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
Why did I choose this road? he thought.
The city road would have been longer, but at least it felt safe.
Suddenly, something flashed across the road.
James slammed the brakes.
The car screeched and came to a halt, the engine still running. His heart pounded so loudly that he could hear it in his ears. He leaned forward, squinting through the windshield.
"Hello?" he called out, his voice shaky.
No response.
Just trees. Darkness. Silence.
He stepped out of the car cautiously, the gravel crunching beneath his shoes. A cold wind brushed past him, carrying a strange metallic smell. His stomach tightened.
That's when he saw it.
A body.
It lay a few feet away from the road, half-hidden behind tall grass. James froze. His breath caught in his throat as fear crawled up his spine.
"Oh my God…" he whispered.
The man was lying face down, motionless. James forced himself to step closer, every muscle in his body screaming to run away. He turned the body over slowly.
The man's face was pale. His eyes were wide open, staring into nothingness.
James staggered back.
"It can't be…" he muttered.
The man was Mr. Roy.
A well-known businessman. Powerful. Untouchable—or so everyone believed.
Blood had soaked into his clothes, dark and thick. There was a deep wound near his head, as if he had been struck brutally. James felt his knees weaken.
This wasn't an accident.
This was murder.
Shaking, James pulled out his phone and dialed the police.
"Hello? Police? There's… there's a dead body here," he said, his voice breaking. "It's on the jungle road… near the old petrol pump."
Within minutes, the silence of the forest was shattered by sirens.
Police vehicles arrived, their red and blue lights flickering eerily against the trees. Officers surrounded the area, flashlights scanning the ground.
Inspector Medina stepped forward.
"Where did you find the body?" he asked calmly.
James pointed with trembling fingers. "Right there, sir. I was just passing by."
The inspector crouched near the body, examining it carefully. He exchanged a look with the forensic officer.
"No wallet," one officer said. "No phone either."
"So it was taken," Medina replied. "This was planned."
The body was loaded into an ambulance, and the area was sealed off. The jungle road, which usually went unnoticed, had suddenly become the center of attention.
News spread fast.
By morning, everyone was talking about it.
But what most people didn't know was that this was only the beginning.
Two Days Earlier
Mr. Roy stood near the window of his luxurious office, staring down at the city below. His reflection in the glass looked tired—older than his years.
Something was wrong.
For weeks, he had felt like someone was watching him.
Every call sounded suspicious. Every shadow felt too close.
He had enemies. That much was certain.
But tonight, fear clung to him like a second skin.
He checked his watch.
Late.
Too late.
His phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
He hesitated, then answered.
"Hello?"
A pause.
Then a low voice said, "You shouldn't have gone that far, Mr. Roy."
The call disconnected.
Roy swallowed hard.
That night, he decided to take the jungle road.
A decision that would cost him his life.
The jungle returned to silence once again.
But the truth was buried deep within it.
And someone out there knew exactly what they had done.
To be continued…