First Person Novel Novels & Stories

The letters formed a sentence. The first lie was not written. It was believed. Adrian read it again. "The first... lie?" The White Book opened by itself. For several seconds... its pages remained completely blank. Then one sentence slowly appeared. Every forgotten truth creates a new silence. The First Reader's face darkened. "I hoped that page had been destroyed." The woman looked between them. "What truth?" Before anyone answered... footsteps echoed from inside the lighthouse. Slow. Steady. Measured. A tall figure emerged through the darkness.

Except for the book, which he carried out to take a proper look at it. Joe jumped on the bed and placed the book before him to rest on the bed. He opened the first page gently. The book wrote dear diary on its first page. Joe adjusted his sitting position to lay on the bed to enjoy the content. “I never thought I would also be writing a diary of my own, well, I guess I am now” the next line of the diary stated. “The first experience I would like to write about on this day being the second day in the month of November 2021 is that…

It left me with no choice. I had the weirdest feeling as if someone was watching me as I slowly untied the leather cord which was binding the book close. My hands shook as I turned the cover and looked at the first page. 30/11/2007 Today I killed for the first time, it was exhilarating. The excitement of the hunt, father's growled praises still echo in my ears even as I now sit in my room surrounded by complete silence. I can still smell the outdoors, the dirt, the grass, even the mist of Etherea. Milly still thinks she's faster than me, the chit doesn't get it that it's me who's going to take over papa's place after him. She's just going to leave one day with her mate. I don't want her to g

He says through our mind link as he drives off to our office in Malaga. Hey guys! Thank you so much for reading my novel so far. This is my first novel ever and I am having a lot of fun writing it! I also have an i*******m full on updates on my stories; Jaleesawrites

Hi, wonderful readers. This is Cinderevie and I want to congratulate you for finish reading chapter four of RP, that's a great achievement. If you're a reader that's interested to see what happens next you've got to know these about RP #1... - It's in first person. Most young readers are not used to this but I want you to know that in the remaining series, it'll be in first person. So what's my reason for doing this? It's a very detailed and conjoined explanation of different people's POVs that's all merged together. I think it's wonderful to be able to read many thoughts at once. It's faster and RP is a long tale. If I wrote in first person, it will be less exciting. This is the first serie

His first novel. And deeply personal, based in part on an autistic boy he’d known growing up. While he’d written it, he’d truly felt alive, as though he’d been accomplishing something important, something real. He’d enjoyed writing all his novels well enough but he hadn’t felt the same since that first one, like his writing was making a difference. He lifted a trembling hand. And with an odd combination of loathing and need he flicked open the book’s cover, revealing the inscription: To Hank—best cook in Pennsylvania, who called me ‘not a pain in the ass’.

Thanks to everyone for walking with me through this story. I never thought of writing a novel but after putting down some nasty fantasy I had in mind, in writing, I was like hey, this could be a story and I did it. Thank you all. The reads and votes kept me going and I appreciate them a lot. Even with English not being my first language and knowing it is not without mistakes, you still read it. Also, with this being my first book, I grateful with the number of reads and votes so far.

Her novel. She told herself it was fiction, a story, nothing more. A way to keep herself sane while Ethan drifted in and out of confusion and Jessica lurked on the edges of every shadow. But the more she wrote, the more the truth spilled through her sentences, raw and naked. She wasn’t inventing. She was remembering. The novel wasn’t just about her marriage. It was her marriage. And that terrified her. Her first chapters were almost word for word what happened the night she met Ethan. The wine spilled on her dress, his smooth apology, the way his smile hooked into her heart and refused to let go.

The first novel I read was by Louisa May Alcott; Little Woman, and then moved on to other feminist novels such as Handmaid's Tale and Pride and Prejudice—the book I'm holding right now. Well, I shouldn't be going around the library looking for a novel I like because what I'm supposed to be doing is taking care of a crazy bastard named Rhysand del Millero, who's on the phone. But I don't want to do that. I'd rather buy time with the books in front of me until the helicopter he's waiting for comes over to the bullshit he started. Damn, I hate this situation. I hate being stuck with a domineering, powerful man who loves to be heard more than to hear, and hates that I can't do anything.

It was a novel about a girl who was mysteriously transported a thousand years back in time and first became the second daughter of the Qu family before she was married to the Eight Prince of Dongue. I enjoyed the novel for its intriguing plot twist that had me glued to my phone for hours. I was momentarily distracted by the novel because I had forgotten about Draven and the ongoing war. Well, until the door suddenly burst open. That's when I noticed that it was soon getting dark out, and the room was already so dark that I could barely make out the people standing right outside the door. There were four able-bodied men. As I tried to make out the people by their stature, I realised that ther