Death Note: Short Story Novels & Stories

There, right beside my husband Brandon in the photo, was my so-called best friend, Melissa. … Snapping out of it, I stared at Melissa's two-faced expression. She must have known about the lottery win by then. They had probably plotted the whole thing, faking his death to pocket the cash. "Noelle, don't take it so hard. You're already unwell. What if Brandon's death makes you worse?" I shrugged off Melissa's hand and asked with eerie calm, "Where's Brandon's body? I want to see him." Melissa blinked, thrown off by my composure. "In the ward," she stammered.

But all it took was a slight raise of his hand, and the crowd quieted, their raucous voices stilled by his commanding presence. "I am Vincent Casper, chief medical examiner of Ariant City. I have invited official journalists from the central news channel and our city's primary media outlets to witness the live broadcast of the truth behind this murder case." Murder case?! The crowd buzzed again, shock rippling through the room. These reporters were expecting a scandal about plagiarism, some small tabloid fodder. Never in their wildest dreams did they imagine it would be tied to something as serious as a murder. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Charles and Arianna, subtly edgi

I look you over, my eyes lingering on your body, assessing. A slow smirk plays on my lips as I lean against the desk, crossing my legs. “Hello yourself. You’re here for the writing job, aren’t you? Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes. Or maybe you’re just here to waste my time.” My gaze is intense, unblinking, as if I’m already deciding your fate. ( you hand over a file containing a CV and a short story ..it was an erotic story ,titled the hot kidnapper)

“Ma’am, we can show you a photo first, so you can confirm whether it’s your daughter. It’s just… when we found her, she had been dead for three days, and the body had started to decompose. You should prepare yourself.” With that, he pulled out a photo from the scene and handed it to her. In the picture, a small, blood-soaked body—mine—was curled up on the bed in an unnatural position. My colorless lips and my sickly, bluish-purple skin told her one thing: I was dead. Mom’s eyes widened. At last, she could no longer lie to herself and burst into tears. “How could this happen? How could this be? She was fine just a few days ago. How could she be dead? Daisy, you cursed child, you’re just like