L Death Note Novels & Stories

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.

Me praying silently and Kira-crying in the embrace of Sir Flinn. I closed my eyes again as I heard the signal. Then we heard the doctor say, “Time of death, 8:45 pm.”

A black smoke engulfed the space on the chair beside Death Note and Jackson appeared with a silver coloured Device wrapped around his head and his entire body bounded in chains. "This is him. Where is my cargo?" Death Note asked. Sarraphina snapped her fingers and a guard walked in with a black briefcase. He placed it on the table on between them and walked away. "Check it" She said. Death Note brought the briefcase closer to him and he opened it. In it was a pen. "This is fake" Death Note stated with anger after observing the pen and he broke it after. "What do you expect, you asked for the impossible." Sarraphina replied

Thank you so much for reading 'Death Among The Dandelions!' This is my first ever original novel that I've written. I've really enjoyed writing this, hopefully, you enjoyed reading this! This is also my first ever book on Goodnovel. Thank you for reading to the end. Credits go to my best friend Lily for creating the amazing front cover! She's an amazing writer too, go support her on Wattpad! Her account is @lilypadsxfrogs.

When our whole family saw the death timer for my sister will end on her sixteenth birthday, she became the most important person in the family. She suddenly took priority in everything, from food to dresses, and even bedtime stories. I felt for her, but I was also jealous that she was given everything. However, a day before her sixteenth birthday, my parents locked me up in the storeroom in fear that I would make a mess of things. I kept hammering the door, crying, "Mom, let me out! I'm having a fever, and my head hurts!" Mom didn't believe me. "Just stop! Your sister will die in just a day, and you're playing sick to gain our sympathy?! Don't you understand anything?!" "No…" I tried m

Selene Before sunset I turned my quarters into a crime scene, and it was all for one man. Maps covered the table and more maps littered the floor. I had alley sketches pinned to the wall with iron tacks. Timelines were written in ink on parchment in neat lines. They collided with circles, arrows and corrections. Witness statements were in piles and they were ranked by usefulness and stupidity. Most people get poetic when they're scared. He vanished into the air, His eyes were icy cold, He moved fast, It wasn't natural.

The penthouse has private lift access, one soft chime. Then another. Someone is coming up. Lena’s face changes, just enough. “Play the next file now,” she says. “Or you won’t need to know who I work for. You’ll need to know who he does.” Damien clicks the file. A man’s voice fills the room. Not Vincent, Not Arthur, Not Raymond. Smooth, Familiar, Wrong. “Make sure the visible girl dies first. The hidden one is more useful alive.” My whole body locks.

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

u look like death warmed over in practice pics **Lennon** (10:43 PM): fuck u **Archer** (10:43 PM): love u too. text if u need bail money or a getaway driver **Lennon** (10:44 PM): noted He dropped the phone on the comforter and scrubbed his face again. Then, on impulse, he swiped to the folder buried three screens deep—the one labeled “Calculus Notes” that contained exactly zero calculus notes. Velvet Heat. He hadn’t deleted it.

Her eyes fixed on the glass. Her hands clenched in her pockets. —But of course… All this is Lili’s fault. She really does want me dead. She must be plotting something. I know it. She always knew too much. She took out her cell phone and opened the notes app. She wrote something. She deleted it. She wrote it again. This time it wasn’t a diary. It was a plan. And she underlined three names in capital letters and red: LILI GUILLERMO