Death Note: Short Story Novels & Stories

Nyra and Selene turned to leave, shoulders touching in unity, but a soft rustle made them pause. Ember opened her silver-eyed gaze ;, she smiled sleepily, then closed her lids. Ashen shifted, her obsidian eyes fluttered open, just a slit. Nyra froze, her breath caught. Ashen sat up, small hand reaching toward the window’s last golden glow. She whispered, voice faint but chilling : “Mother…” Selene spun, Nyra’s heart thundered. Ashen’s lips curved in that same terrible smile. Her single heartbeat echoed… “I am Death.”

Watching the road below the way she watched everything, with the particular patience of someone who had learned a long time ago that threats rarely announced themselves. Caelith sat on the edge of the bed and talked. She started from the beginning. The dreams. The feeling on the street that first Wednesday. The black car and the chemical cloth and the ritual room with the candles that didn't flicker. The stranger who appeared and disappeared and submitted her essay and left her on a bench on a road nobody used. Zara, the courtyard, the blood deal. The journal. The friend she called at midnight who knew things she shouldn't have known from footnotes.

The blood had nearly stopped flowing. The position of his right hand was strange; his fingers curled as if trying to grasp something. I crouched down. In his open left hand, written crookedly in blood, was a single word: "Run". 02:14. One minute left. 02:15 came. Nothing happened. I was still alive. "Substitute death successful. Eric Dawson was killed at 2:14 in Parking Lot C. Remaining loop time: 48 hours. "Go to Parking Lot C. There’s something for you."

CULLEN’s POV The rain poured heavily. The dark clouds loomed above, seething with fury. I sipped my bittersweet coffee as the Death Note on my desk began to glow faintly. I reached out and took it in my hand. An unfamiliar name appeared, along with the details of death. “Clark Stephen Daniel,” I muttered with a sigh. “Your time has come. I’m coming to collect,” I whispered, my voice void of warmth. It was time to reap his soul. The details were clear—he would die tonight, inside a nightclub.

In 1983 a Mrs Carson of New York was laid out in our coffin, presumed dead of hear disease. As mourners watched, she suddenly sat up, alive as you or I. Unfortunately her daughter dropped dead of fright on the spot. I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon.

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

And in this lifetime, we'd never see each other again. Once my phone went dead, the only thing left for them was my maggot-ridden body and the farewell gift I had so carefully prepared.

What do I say to all this? It is bullshit. I don’t believe any of this, this must have just been an accident. So as Detective Fletcher takes the note that I am now finally making known to him, it scares me to horror as he starts to read it out aloud. “If you are holding this in your hand, and my body is lying lifeless, you will know that the darkness has finally consumed me. I’ll be nothing more than a fleeting memory that invades your mind in the dead of night, a passive thought you reminisce back on years from now.

“I have no idea if you know this, but… A detective who uses his deductive powers to corner a suspect, and then does nothing to stop them from committing suicide—” “—is no better than the murderer himself,” Albert completed. “It’s quite funny, now that I realize its meaning.” “Jimmy Kudo probably has a lot more to say if he is a real person and is present here,” I added and finally stepped out of the clubroom. Just as I stepped into the light, my phone rang with a call from an unknown number. “Hibara, speaking.” A voice altered with a changer laughed on the other line. “Hmm… I heard that your team closed another case again, Hibara.”

"Jasmine, those who hurt you have paid the price. If there's a next life, you'll be born into a family that truly loves you. "I should go. Work's been a bit busy. Next time, I'll bring your favorite, chilled white wine." Lilith gently brushed the dust from Jasmine's smiling portrait on the stone. She smiled faintly at Jasmine's photo, then turned and walked away. A breeze passed. A small bird flew to the tombstone, flapped its wings lightly, and pecked away the nut on the cake.