Melody Jade Allen's Blog

I always write my stories in different genres. Thrillers, mystery, historical books. And now, I have three romance book for publishing💖

I hope their readers will enjoy them🙏

My book INSOMNIA with an updated cover is already available in bookstores!

Even with her acting skills, Avril was still hiding this fear under her own mask. What if she was a murderer...? If they were dead, then who moved their bodies so far? Their bodies were found in a couple of sixty miles away from their home, with such traumas they would not be able to make such a path. Someone framed her... or vice versa - did someone protect her? After all, absolutely no traces were found on the figurine of the whale, someone carefully erased them. Because that day she was wearing gloves without fingers, so she left her prints. It frightened her... always. It was something that had been locked for so long, but someone... Of course, it was the one who arranged this scene with moving bodies, it was quite logical. So thought Avril, not knowing that the rest of her friends have their secrets, was there something in common between their dark past?

Ghost of Me

“What nonsense?” He said in a low voice and went to his desk, he took the telephone receiver... Some classical music sounded from it, but he again dialled the emergency number. But there was no answer.
“Damn you,” Aron threw the telephone receiver aside and headed for the front door; he dialled Jonathan’s number “... the number does not exist.”
He pushed open the door, it was locked. “What the hell?” He took the keys out of his pocket, dropped his mobile phone on the floor; the door lock was not locked, but the door still wouldn’t open. Second by second... Aron looked out into the street. He froze, feeling his body fill with cold. The stranger in the alley stood facing the library and seemed to pierce Aron with his eyes like a knife blade.
Without losing a sense of vigilance, Aron went closer to the window and looked closely - the stranger was holding the body of the girl, who was probably already unconscious. He kept looking...

Broken Lie

Somewhere lightning struck, the silhouettes of swaying trees seemed to whisper something, but the girls were not going to surrender without the last battle.

But it was the final stop...

Standing in front of the pier, which protected them from the water of the ocean, they saw that there were only two ways - to let them defeat herself... or do it by themselves. There was only one exodus.

They stood silently, looking at the Moon, which was reflected on the shiny surface of the waves. Arriving here, they did not expect how their interest in the unknown, dangerous and wild would end. If they could fix it... But should they?

Girl Next Door

Presenting you a story Buryat Pass. Chivruay Pass Incident. Dyatlov Pass. The Theories of Death of Tourists which is based on real events that happened at different time intervals. Each part tells the story of a group of tourists who mysteriously die during the hike. Some things seem inexplicable, creepy, perhaps partly unreal. Are these stories related? Are there really inexplicable mysticism in them? Based of each of them, conclusions were drawn and theories of unsolved events were written.

Miles M.J. Allen
Melody Jade Allen

“Where does this information come from?” One detective asked.
“There is a witness who saw her asleep in someone's car.” Locke answered. “Maybe it was hitchhiking, but it's also possible she has an accomplice.”
“Are there car numbers?” Another detective asked.
The Captain shook his head. “No, the witness did not remember that. Here is all the information.” Locke gave each detective document with new information. “By the way, Detective Hale?”
Adrianna looked at him. “Yes, Sir?”
“Follow me.”
Captain Locke and Adrianna entered the rest room; several detectives saw a glance from Boss left them alone.
“What is it, Sir?” Adrianna was starting to get nervous. “I’m already suspended, right?”
“No. You are not.” The Captain closed the door. “There is something new.”
“Bad news?”
“It’s about her night.”
Adrianna crossed her arms. “What did we get?”
“Tell me, what did Mireya say about what she did after leaving the hotel, where Leandra Ray was killed?”
Adrianna shrugged her shoulders. “She said she does not remember anything. She does not even remember that she visited the 24-hour coffee shop and that she worked on the new project, and that she spoke with her boss - nothing.”
“Well, maybe it’s even better for her.”
“What do you mean, Captain?”
Captain Locke took a deep breath. “That night she got back to the hotel, Adrianna. We tracked her cell, but we don’t know if she was in Leandra’s room.”
“She got back?” Adrianna put her hand to her forehead. “God, what did she do?”
“It remained somewhere in her memory.” Locke paused. “But do you really believe in her loss of memory? Does she?”

Dead Breath

Where does the life of a writer begin? From the first lines written? From the first book you read that inspires you to write your own one? Or a hobby that becomes more than just entertainment? 13 years ago, on February 25 of 2008, on a frosty winter evening I watched an Asian horror movie. The protagonist was a writer who wrote her book using a prototype of herself and her events to create characters and stories. I thought, "If I were the prototype for my own character, how would I like to see myself?" So I got the idea for my first story, and that evening I wrote my first lines, making my first story. Well, Happy Writer's Birthday to me!😎

My book Dead Breath was released two years ago! This is one of the first books I have written in a genre that is new to me and, given its good ratings I'm proud of my work, it was a fascinating journey along with the characters who inspired me to move on. So, Happy Birthday!

Aron felt warm blood on his neck.
“Stop me.” The killer removed his dagger and stepped back a few steps.
“Aron?” Jonathan’s voice came from the library side.
Aron turned to the voice. He wanted to see him again to see the one who could take his life, but the path was already empty.
Agent Valverde and Jonathan entered the path alley; Aron was still there, leaning against the wall.
Jonathan approached him. “What's the matter, Aron?” He looked at the wound in his neck. “Was he here?”
Aron nodded.
Valverde walked around, “Look there, my friends.” He pointed to the broken mirror, which lay next to Aron, “It’s not over yet, Mr. Delson. He hasn’t finished with you.”

Broken Lie