Death Note

This is something I wrote ages ago for a piece of coursework. It was supposed to be in the style of Anthony Horowitz, so I borrowed from his Alex Rider series to create my character and plot.

Death Note

If You Choose To Accept It

Her name was Raven. And she was the most dangerous 17 year old you’ll ever meet.
   She walked gracefully up the staircase of her Surrey home, her feet making barely any noise on the wooden steps as they carried to her bedroom, and threw her clumsily onto her bed. She made herself comfortable on it, and collected her favourite book from its usual resting place. Outside, the sun had already set, and rain, made near invisible by the darkness outside, lashed violently against her window pane. Less than two hundred metres away, the everyday folk of Thornton Heath tussled and fought their way out of the train station on their way from their everyday jobs. Raven’s life had changed so much in the past few years, she knew she wouldn’t be like any of those everyday folk…
   She lay catlike and lazily on her bed. It was a double bed, of the brightest pink and white pattern, which matched her room perfectly. The Grey Adidas tracksuit she was wearing was a size too big and hung loosely off of her athletic figure, just how she liked it. She refused to dress feminine, turning down dresses and fitted jeans bought for her by her mother, for baggy jeans and tracksuits. She brushed long black hair from her intelligent, bright green eyes that darted back and forth, reading her book with earnest. Eyes that were set in a face that had simple, yet strong beauty.
   Outside of her profession, she was known only, and stereotypically, as Mrs Smith. She didn’t care very much for first names. Friends used first names, and she didn’t have many of those. Her best friend was her cat Orion, who was sleek and as brilliantly black as the night outside. For as long as she could remember, there had only ever been her and her mother Joan. As far as she was concerned, that was the only family she needed, and anyone else that got too close to Joan, got the cold shoulder. Or worse.
   The rain repeatedly drummed against her window. The sound relaxed her. It echoed through the room hypnotically as she read her book. Reading wasn’t Raven’s favourite past time. She’d have much preferred to be playing football or climbing the biggest tree she could find, but between the typically wet English weather, her English coursework, and her part time job, there wasn’t much chance of that happening any time soon. And even if there was, she would have to catch a bus to get there.
   Her mobile rang. Not her regular mobile. Her other mobile. It rang with a high pitched tone, a constant droning that pierces the eardrums of every teenager, cat and dog in the vicinity because of it's high frequency, but that also made it inaudible to adults. She leapt out of bed and ran towards it, tearing it out of her jacket pocket and simultaneously kicking her bedroom door closed.
   “Raven, code T 9 2 0.” She spoke. “The mission?”
   “A dangerous one this time. Ghost escort. The Prime Minister. Come in for briefing as soon as possible.” A voice replied. Its voice was digitally altered to be unrecognisable.
Raven looked back at her book, lying on her bed, waiting for her to return to it, and swore silently.
   “I could have been a dancer, but no, I decide to be a spy!”
   And with that, she left.

Author's Note

Was written ages ago for college. A few ideas were borrowed from Anthony Horowitz's Alex Rider series, but as I intended to make no profit from it, I hope you can look past that and look at the possibilities of where a story like this could go.