Dark Notes Pam Godwin Novels & Stories

And in turn, she learned several things without having to resort to breaking and entering and spying. Well it certainly also helped when you now spent most nights in the bed of the man you once creeped on. Pillow talk and late-night confession were the best she’d come to find many times over. For example, to the outside world Cole Godwin was a hardened man who carried around a black notebook to keep tabs on shit you done to use against you at some point. Also rumored among his employees to be an alcoholic who got the shakes towards the end of the day and too much of a workaholic to take time off to get knee replacements for his fucked-up knees. But truth was the Godwin Patriarch wrote metic

She opened the coffee shop, and while she went through to the register to start opening, Adele began to open the blinds, put the chairs back on the floor, and under the tables. “How are you feeling?” “Fine,” Lisa said. “No chocolates today?” “None. This time I got flowers. A bunch of wild ones,” Lisa said. “That’s nice.” Adele knew she didn’t accept any of the gifts. Also, whenever Shadow came into the shop, Adele made sure to serve him. Pam was different. Over the past month, she had gotten close to the other woman. Pam wasn’t trying to get her to make things right with Shadow. She agreed with her. If Shadow wasn’t looking for forever, then it was over.

Was this about Wesley? Was he in danger? I leaned forward a little, just to catch one more word, another thread to follow. But I was too careless. A floorboard groaned under my weight, low but unmistakable. I flinched. Inside, there was a pause. Then the sound of fabric shifting, feet moving. I straightened too fast, pretending like I’d just been walking by—like I hadn’t been eavesdropping on a conversation I had no business hearing. Pamela appeared in the doorway, tall, perfectly poised, her hair a shining curtain over her shoulder. Her eyes locked on mine, icy and knowing.

It had always been about who held the bare hand in the dark when the lights finally went out. "I know," Elias murmured softly. He drove his thumb down against the brass lever. The toggle didn't click with a loud sound; it gave a tiny, metallic snap that was instantly swallowed by the roar of the trucks at the gate. On Damien’s knee, the gray screen of the phone didn't flare green or show a progress bar. It simply went completely dark—a single, black block of glass that didn't reflect the searchlights anymore. Across the channel, at the very top of the old grain elevator, a single, tiny white beacon light began to pulse—one, two, three times—a slow, rhythmic blink that cut through the salt fo

Damon opened the ledger to a page marked by a dark red ribbon and turned it so that she could see. Names, dates, and causes of death filled the page in a neat script. Short notes followed several entries. She played the pianoforte the night before the fever took her. She loved the south garden and the chair under the elm. She feared the west corridor after sundown and would not cross it without a candle. The words stood without ornament, yet the care with which they had been written told its own story. She reached the bottom of the page and felt the rhythm break. An entry had been started, then crossed with a single careful line. The name beneath had been scraped away with a blade. The lette

Damian’s POV The guilt did not come crashing down on Damian Blackwood in a single, dramatic moment, it crept in slowly, quietly, persistently. Like water seeping through cracks he hadn’t known existed. Damian stood at the wide window of the study long after the staff had retreated for the night, his reflection faint in the glass. The city lights beyond the gates glittered indifferently, life moving forward as though nothing monumental had shifted.

CHAPTER NINETY-THREE CASPIAN’S POV Pamela kept a sinister smile on her face. I couldn’t imagine the kind of person she was. So much for picking random girls and sleeping with them, thinking that it wasn’t going to haunt you in the future. “At that moment, flashes of my past life appeared briefly in front of me, and it seemed like the remorse that cringed me wasn’t ready to let go.”

I had been thinking differents of Liam torturing me once he got me, he would torture me to death this time, I acted out of his bearings. Somebody knocked on the door while my face was swollen from the crying session, I wiped my tears and permitted them to come in, the lights of the room was still off and I was sitting at the bed in the dark. The door opened and a shadow of a mid-height lady formed, I focused my eyes to recognise who it was but my eyes chose not to cooperate with me, “Jenna, my dear,” I heard a soothing motherly voice calling me out, the voice which belonged to Miss. Beckett, “Why are you sitting in the dark?” she was about to hit the lights when I interrupted her in my grogg

At first, it's only a faint whisper like a brush against my ear, but then it becomes louder and stronger until it's screaming, calling me home — the call of the gate. I'm not aware of the smoke and darkness surrounding me and filling the room, because right now, darkness is all I can see as my mind travels toward the call. My mind shifts through the darkness fast, black thick clouds whip past my vision. A faint orange glow is visible in the distance, and the further I go toward the call, the brighter and redder it becomes until I suddenly break through the darkness and see the flames of hell and the burning red gate covered in black soot.

Eli snapped sarcastically. Pam was jolted by his grim reaction but quickly shook off the shudder that came over her. "You're not gonna fire me, Eli. Because you know I already have a draft of my memoir titled: The Satan Wears Armani that will make The Devil Wears Prada look like a children's book." Blackmail was a cheap shot, she knew, but so was his threat. And although Eli could very well follow through with his warning, Pam was mad enough not to take it lying down.