Novel & Cerita Dead Poets Society Book

June 13,2024 Dear Reader, If you’ve found this diary, then fate has strange plans for you. This isn’t a story of heroes, or even of the living. What you’re about to read isn’t fiction — not entirely. These pages carry the weight of things unseen, unheard, and often misunderstood. So before you turn another page, ask yourself: Are you ready to see the world through the eyes of someone who walks among both the living and the dead? If not, close this now.

★★★★★ MORTUARY* Antonio walked into the mortuary slowly, his eyes gazing around the numerous grave lowered around the big land. Some people could be seen in front of some graves, crying while some were with flowers placing it on the top of it. Antonio bit his lips as he remembered how he lost his wife, Tatiana's mother and he blinked tears. His eyes roamed around but no sign of Tatiana. She's always frequent in this place but today's different.

“But this James Cotton—he’s a good man. Young but mature enough. I might give it a try!” I was slightly taken aback. It seemed that men and women were not very different after all—no matter how old they got, they both liked younger company. This could work! I snapped my fingers. “I heard the bar at the end of the street has plenty of handsome young men! They even dress up in costumes sometimes. Let’s go check it out tonight, Mom!” Betsy did not even hesitate and we decided to head out that very evening. After getting our photos taken, the makeup artist came up to me with my photos.

Dear Diary, It's been a few days since I last wrote to you. Nothing special happens on my day so I can't tell you anything. Only now can I write to you again because what happened to me last night was so good and satisfying. I killed Rhiza even though she did not do anything bad to me. Maybe I was angry with her for what her girlfriend Clarisse did to me. I promised myself that Clarisse will be the one I will kill next so that they will be together in hell after all, that's where they belong. We will also meet there but it will be a long time before I die. I will just kill my classmates first because they deserve it.

The ashes of the Ouroboros Society still smelled like smoke in the back of Cedric’s mind, but new flames were licking up fast. The letter arrived three days after the fire pit, slipped under the door with no stamp, no postmark. One line, written in ink that felt older than the house: The Society is dead. Long live the Society.

No longer just a man's shadow. I was just me. “Are you sure about the auction in Paris?” Julian asked. I was silent for a moment. Over the past year, my work had made waves in the underworld. They didn’t know that the designer ‘Lena’ was me. They just marveled at the themes of brokenness and rebirth in the designs. The story of the betrayed wife who rose from the ashes had become an underworld legend. “Let’s go,” I said finally. “It’s time.”

"Okay, okay. Well, the nickname first came to me because of a book I have read. You know the one with the psychopath that killed his victims every midnight." Jasmine frowned in distaste. Is this girl courting death? Why would she name a stranger after a psychopath? "The one you kept calling your baby? That died in the end and you mourned him for a whole week?" Ryder nodded. "He was precious and adorable and didn't deserve all that happened to him. My baby deserved all the love in the world." She stubbornly defended a psychopath from a book. The book was written by the same author that had written "The Ashen Soul" that she was currently reading, titled "Who Killed Midnight". This book was one

After catching my supposedly frigid wife, Emmy Winslow, aroused by our household robot butler, I swallowed my disgust and sent the machine to a destruction facility. I never expected that decision to cost her life. On the way to chase after the robot, Emmy was involved in a horrific car accident and died at the scene. From that day on, I became notorious in our social circle as the jealous husband who drove his wife to her death. Five years passed. Night after night, I tortured myself by wondering if she would still be alive had I not been so petty over a machine. Until today, while discussing business at a private club, I passed a half-open VIP suite and heard one of Emmy's closest frie

I smiled bleakly and wondered if Blake finally realized his mistake. Unfortunately, everything was already too late. Somehow, Blake found out where my grave was. With a bottle of liquor and a small knife, he knelt before my tombstone and cried. He apologized to me over and over, saying he loved me. He even tried to end everything there in front of my grave. I wondered if he thought that would atone for his sins. If he thought I would forgive him because of this, he was going out of his mind. Fortunately, the cemetery caretaker found him in time and sent him to the hospital. Otherwise, I would have been disgusted enough to vanish on the spot.

I opened another—it described my death. As I reached for a third book, a hand stopped me. I turned—and saw that it was Lucas’s hand. But he was no longer young; he was now an old man, holding a pen. He whispered, “Don’t open that book, Sophia. That book says this library is actually a memory inside your dead brain… and we will never be able to escape from here.”