Death Note One-shot Novels & Stories

What is written inside it? She did not sleep. She sat at her small desk with her laptop open and the cursor blinking in an empty search bar and thought about where you even begin when what you are looking for has no name and no shape and the only person who knows anything about it is a girl who tried to kill you four hours ago. She typed: dark journal occult. Deleted it. Typed: ancient journals with hidden locations. Deleted that too. She pushed back from the desk and pressed her palms flat on her knees and stared at the ceiling.

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

“Shoot me... please... shoot me, Boss... please...” Chief Mandolos's jaw locked, his hands behind his back shaking slightly. Matteo closed his eyes briefly, but didn’t move. Annabelle turned her head, trying to stop herself from vomiting. Nina’s face was stone. But her eyes weren’t. They were full. Not of fear. Of something deeper. A shift. She had seen death before at Lorenzo's. But this, this was personal. Then the final act. The third man, unconscious, was nailed to the pole.

And then they saw it Pinned to Nico’s chest: A burned name tag. The last word barely readable: “SO.LENE” CUT TO: MORROW – MID-CONFERENCE TIME: 5:14 a.m. A courier entered mid-speech. Morrow paused. “What is it?” The man didn’t speak. He handed her a small envelope. Inside? The bullet casing. A photo of Nico’s corpse. And beneath it No words. Just a smear of lipstick in her shade… …and a single red hairpin. Morrow stared at it.

I said again, but he was already tearing at the paper with hands that had gone pale. Inside was a small wooden box, the kind used for jewellery. And a note. Alejandro read the note first, his face turning white. Without a word, he handed it to me. The message was typed, simple, direct: "She dies next." With shaking hands, I opened the box. Inside, sitting in black velvet, was a single bullet. Cold bullet.

Precise. She injected something into Colton’s neck. He spasmed. Then stilled. Dead. The woman looked up at the camera. Pulled down her hood. It was the ex-fiancée. Her lips moved slow, deliberate. Nolan zoomed in, enhancing the frame. We read the words together. **“One down. Two to go.”** My blood turned to ice. Damien swore softly beside me. Because now we knew - Viper wasn’t working alone.

Dreygur got out of his car and slowly followed the niece. Sumire who received a gift from her uncle Chadwick wanted to pray at the shrine of Death and wish her life to end without killing herself. But her prayer was interrupted when she found a godlike man wearing an expensive all-black suit napping while his book was placed on his belly, wearing round black glasses. Sumire was hypnotized and approached closer to the long table of the shrine where the man was silently sleeping. She climbed up and sat next to his head and stared at him for a long time. Sumire unconsciously leaned and kissed the man on the lips. At the top of the man, she stole something from the shrine, bringing the bizarre p

I wanted to make it a surprise for Ryan, and then grant him a lethal death. In the blink of an eye, all the mutant dogs lay down dead on the floor, their corpses littered all over the cliff bottom, and I could feel the angry stares of the venom woman herself. Not only that, the crowds stood in curiosity waiting for the strange sliver of a being that appeared out of nowhere and slaughtered all their players. Slowly, I let the light diminish, and my face became visible under the reflection of the dark sky and the glowing moon. A loud gasp escaped from everyone's mouth, followed by a scream of "impossible."

His pupils contracted in terror. "What are you trying to do–" I was faster. After all, I had rehearsed this moment in my mind countless times over the past ten years. The needle plunged into his neck. Before he could finish speaking, his body went limp and collapsed to the ground. Calmly, methodically, I put on a pair of gloves and dragged him toward my car. A few years ago, I had moved my brother's grave. I chose the most remote corner of the cemetery, right beside a secluded side gate.