Dead Poets Society Book の小説・ストーリー

A pity. “Are you even listening to me?” I lifted my eyes from the book in my hand. The Mark of Exile. It was the sequel to The Corpse in the Fog—a crime story about a man killing the lover of the woman he desperately wanted. You could say I was taking notes of very effective and interesting ways to kill Zesa’s lover. I’d had enough of him impeding my happiness.

I know that magic is just an illusion, a trick. Dusting my clothes, I made my way toward my team. They had now assembled themselves in one place, their eyes still holding surprise, and I could guess that they were waiting for me to explain. The crowds were as silent as a graveyard. They weren't making any of their stupid noises, and I am sure they were still trying to recover from the shock of seeing me again. That made me remember a story in the Bible that our Sunday school teacher told us about. It was the story of a man named Lazarus who was resurrected from the dead. The only difference between us is that I have been dead for two months, or should I say suffering and wandering around an

An hour later, after searching for anything to help us within books that ranged from brand new to hundreds of years old, I huffed with disappointment and decided to stretch my legs; my pale finger trailed over the spines of books, dust painting my fingertip. Once I reached the poetry section, I smiled brightly. All around me were books from Silvia Plath, Edgar Allan Poe, Emily Dickson, Robert Frost, and many others that were like my old friends. Taking a random book off the shelf, I flipped through its contents. "(...) Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home." ~ Tecumseh "You enjoy poetry too?" A familiar voice spoke behind me, making my heart speed up as I jumped slightly. Turn

"To the chances that were led by greed, longing or hope, will the past that alters by the son of darkness, will long be able to vanish? What if what everyone knew was a lie, and the lie that they are trying to run away from is the truth they are seeking after all? Will the world they are walking that is filled with the unknown they only knew will lead them to the truth of who is the clone from the original? Can she solve the puzzle of the first book in her world that revolves around the mystery of a tarot deck? From the series of reincarnation and dimension can she solve the real mystery of ‘Who is the real dead one?’” To the chances, the trade, and the drawing of lots, the book shows her th

Are you sure I can revive her completely, because I am smelling something pretty rotten," I mumbled sourly and covered my nose. He glared at me and entered the hut. He walked back out and tossed me a small book. "Read that first, while I gather the herbs we'll need," he said softly and headed into the greenery still naked. I opened the tiny book and was surprised by seeing sanskrit. It had been a very long time since I'd read the ancient script but it was coming back to me. I had to focus my light on the being I was wanting to bring back. I also had to offer a promise or gift to the Death God holding the soul, normally the one requesting the revival was the one responsible for payment. So Uk

I move through the bowels of the Underworld trading network tunnels as a shadow beneath one of the less than savory areas of the city above, blending into the dark castings of rundown buildings. The stench is one of filth, decay, sewage, blood, and grime. Nothing less than nefarious ever happens in this hidden world full of crime and death. This is the place where the scum of the world is disposed of and forgotten, not nearly suitable enough to be welcomed amongst “regular” civilization, noble lords and ladies, and royalty in the cities above. This is societies’ answer for punishing those who commit crime above, a phase worse than death, a literal hell. Guards posture at entrances within eac

Each cough sent waves of pain through my frame, though none of it hurt as much as the pain in my chest did. Just as I was losing consciousness, I saw paramedics rushing in to rescue people. When I woke up again, I was lying in a hospital bed. The room was eerily quiet. Every now and then, I could hear nurses whispering in the hallway outside. "I heard that famous lawyer, Ms. Hudson, is in the room next door. She's keeping her first love company. I never thought someone who looks so cold on TV could be so gentle with her boyfriend!" "Yes, they make such a great couple!"

he points at her with his chin, expressionless, “didn't you want to join our group? There is the proof.” I swallow a bitter breath when I reach for it and study it, without a doubt it is the same bracelet that the Zanni subjects had. “Why black?” “I really don't know.” He dives into the pages of his new book of the week and surprisingly it is not the one he read yesterday. Had I already finished it? For sure yes. His title was somewhat ironic; The Darkest Book of Cheap Poetry.

They were lost in the forest and the signs were nowhere to be found until they found an enormous pit containing disgusting dead bodies. Blair vomited and Trestan pulled her away from the pit. The pit is where the organization dumped dead bodies they used for experimentation. "There they are!" One of the hunters found them. Trestan pulled Blair to run away from those hunters. +++ Zyrille is in-duty that night and it is not that busy in the hospital. She just had to make her rounds then went home. "Dr. De Vega! Dr. De Vega!" Dylan called her. "Hey, Dylan! You're here again." She smiled at him and tapped his head.

I only drank a sip from my cup, when I look at her face, it was like she froze. "What's happening?" - I want to ask her, but my body starts to shake, the cup falls to the floor and breaks, and I'm just shaking while my body starts floating through the roof, towards the dark blue sky. And just like before, it's dark again. I hear a long sigh, then a whisper: "You have to kill him this...". But the voice fades, and I desperately try to say something, anything but I can't. And slowly, I feel my eyelids closing... ~~~~~~~~~~~