Cyberpunk Novels & Stories

Thank God there were no traffic cops in Bridger National Forest at least! As she walked into Valley Market, cart at the ready, she noticed a striking young woman in the produce section. She had long blonde hair sporting the most intricate braids Liv had ever seen, as well as silver and leather jewelry surrounding her neck and both wrists. A beautiful, swirling black tattoo ringed one lean, toned bicep. She looked like some modern-day Viking shield maiden. Liv was fascinated. She'd always loved Viking stories though she didn't know that much about actual Norse legends. Just as she was about to go over and ask her where she had gotten the braids done, a huge man stalked up to the woman aggress

​The betrayal didn't taste like digital ash; it tasted like iron. ​As the "Actual Author" faded into the grey static of the un-rendered penthouse, the world of 2026 Manhattan collapsed like a cheap stage set. The smell of the expensive scotch and the cool Hudson breeze were replaced by the sterile, humming vacuum of a Tier-5 Data Fortress.

Cain took the glass from my hands and placed it down next to me on the countertop, seeking my full attention. "The part about where I said I'd killed every woman whom I've ever slept with," he said. "So you didn't kill them?" I asked. He took a deep breath, obviously trying to figure out how to explain himself. "I did," he admitted. My eyebrows furrowed. "Wait," I said, holding a hand up. "What exactly are you trying to clarify? It just seems like you're reiterating what you've already said." "Remember how I told you that Vampirism is a communicable disease? That it enters the body like a virus through an open wound?" He asked.

The ninetieth floor of the Vane-Corp Spire was less an office and more a cathedral of glass, silicon, and calculated silence. Outside, the skyline of 2026 flickered with the frantic pulse of a city that never slept a neon sprawl of hovering transport drones and holographic advertisements that painted the low-hanging clouds in shades of electric violet. Inside, the only sound was the rhythmic, low-frequency hum of a liquid-cooled mainframe: the heartbeat of an empire built on the philosophy that there was no human flaw that could not be patched with the right line of code.

They had built the sword, but forgotten the fire. The rain-streaked window of my Copenhagen apartment blurred the neon lights of the city into a watercolour of loneliness. Another night stretching out, empty and silent. I took a long swallow of cheap wine, the bitterness a familiar comfort. I glared at the holographic angel, his perfect pectorals seeming to mock my very mundane frustration. “Michael,” I said, the words slurring just enough to betray my mood. “Where can a girl get some drugs, sex, and a good time around here?”

She knew her nightmare will soon turn to reality and this nightmarish reality will make her life hell. Elena Singh was a 22 years old working woman like every normal women but was her life really normal like others? She was unique, she was talented, she was brave, she was independent yet she was terrified, not of anyone else but herself. Why? Because she saw dreams, or you can call them nightmar JJes, and because whatever she dreams comes true. Lately, She gets these weirdly terrifying nightmares which are scarier than any other nightmare she saw. Only if she knew, the MAN in her nightmare will soon turn her whole existence in to a living nightmare.

his voice jerked me back to reality. "hmm can I get your order"I said trying to sound confident, his voice sent me to planet zecury,I don't even know if it exists. "Two pot pies and one smoothie" he said back, with his eyes fixed on me. For the first time I saw genuine admiration and not the usual look of lust I was used to.

'Screw it, it's just sugar right. She grabbed the bag and downed it all in one go. Some fell down her chin and unto her laptop and the powder shimmered once more. Trix swallowed the powder and blinked as her head began to spin. She suddenly lost consciousness and her slammed into the keyboard, writing a series of incoherent words. The bushes outside her window trembled and a pair of feline eyes peered through. *DO DRUGS AND NO UNDERAGE DRINKING. APOLOGIES TO ANY OFFENCE CAUSED WITH THE READING OF THIS CHAPTER.* COMMENT, VOTE AND SHARE ♥️♥️♥️

Prologue: The Catastrophes of War. Third Person's Point of View. Blood could be foreseen everywhere. The shout was echoing as if it was the normal voice tweet of birds. Two swords colliding and develop a sound of blacksmith's enhancing weapon. All creatures are dying by the catastrophes of wars. One before dying wishing to be spared, while the other one before vanishing, wishing that someone will end this war. Warlocks, Wizards, Deity, Dryads, Elf, Werewolves, Faeries, and Harpies executing oneself's race.

He’s quite sweet. Me:Have you read Neuromancer by William Gibson? Eventually he comes back. Kip:No, I haven’t. Me:You might like that. It’s a cyberpunk novel. Kip:Okay. Alice, I am really sorry for that comment. I would never say anything like that to a girl. Me:Never? Kip:Well, not before I knew her really well!!!!! Me:I just assumed it was the 27% rogue coming out, LOL. Kip:Thank you for not being insulted.