25min Timer Novels & Stories

And the timer. Two minutes. The beeping sound was sharp, steady, cutting through the air like a countdown to something final. People were starting to notice. Their voices rising, confusion turning into panic. I didn't have time for that. "Scissors," I said, my voice loud enough to cut through the noise. Someone handed me one with shaking hands. One minute, twenty seconds. I crouched down in front of the bomb, blocking everything else out. "Boss, we should leave," Baron said, his voice tight.

Big Ken held out three fingers. Alex took out his phone, clicked on the timer, and asked, "You mean 3 minutes?" Big Ken shook his head and said, "30 seconds!" "Are you sure?" “For every second over, I'll give you 100. How about you give me 100 for every second less?" "Sure!" "Deal!" Big Ken grinned back at Owen Donald and said, "Shall we begin?" Owen Donald's eyes bulged outward as if he had seen a ghost.

“Cyber, I am at the vault.” “Two minutes, forty-five seconds,” he replied. I pulled out a small device from my pouch, attaching it to the keypad. The screen blinked . “You got access to the keypad?” I asked in the earpiece. “Got it" I detached the device after he said that and put it back in my pouch The adrenaline coursing through my veins drowned out everything else. “Let’s hope this works,” I muttered, glancing at the timer on my bracelet. Three left and two right then . I grabbed the five scope handle and began to turn according to the pattern.

A red timer appeared in the corner of Jack's vision, projected by his contact lens display. TIME TO DETONATION: 3:00... 2:59... 2:58... He was standing on a bomb, and the fuse was lit.

Henry said pinning against to the car. "Two minutes late." He screamed top of his lungs while breaking silence between us." "Yes, so what's we loss for getting two minutes late only." Henry said. "Definitely its huge loss, do you know the meaning of two minutes? Two minutes means 120 seconds and 120000 milliseconds." He calculated the whole thing. My eyes widened and jaw dropped after listening his calculations. "Brother stop it, you know right I’m weak in maths." Henry said while pulling his cheeks.

Her tense silence unnerved Emmeline a bit. "Don't forget, I'm one of those who agreed to play too! You can't curse me while sacrificing yourself for my honor. It'll make your efforts meaningless." Minnie's cheery voice rang. Taehyung stopped moving. "Isn't the damn five minutes over yet??" he cried out loudly. Richard checked his phone again with a wicked grin. "Not quite." Just as Emmeline glanced at the time on his screen, the last digit ticked over. She wasted no time announcing it. "It just ended!"

The ticking was louder. Rian moved to the central support beam. A small, black plastic charge was attached. A digital timer blinked bright red. 04:12. Rian knelt. He examined the device. He pulled the knife from his boot. "This is military grade," Rian said. "Pressure triggers. If I cut the wrong wire, it accelerates the timer. I need absolute focus." He looked at me. I was standing ten feet away. "Anchor me," Rian ordered. "Send the logical calm. Filter the noise."

A timer I hadn’t noticed before. 59 minutes remaining. I had one hour. One hour to make a choice. One hour to survive. And I realized… one hour wasn’t nearly enough.

But no matter what the problem is, my only requirement is that these adorable little creatures come back to life under your care, jumping around with energy again! As soon as the elder finished speaking, the remaining 30-something contestants sprang into action, racing against the clock. He let out another sinister chuckle. "Oh, by the way, you only have five minutes! If you go over time, you automatically fail and can see yourselves out." The contestants' heart rates instantly spiked. Five minutes was ridiculous—they might as well have asked them to perform brain surgery with a butter knife. Jared grabbed his mouse, muttering curses, "Five minutes? Are you kidding me? Those elders from the

I plant them on either sides of me, taking the fabric of my leggings in my hands and balling it into my fists. “Good girl,” he mutters with conviction. This is torture... In the next moment, he reaches into his pocket, drawing his cellphone. Deftly unlocking it, he taps the screen a few times. He then turns the display towards me, revealing a timer. “You’re going to tell me when to stop. If you last longer than a minute, I’ll answer any two questions you have,” he explains, and I’m all the more interested. “Last longer than three minutes, and I’ll add a file of your choosing from my safe.”