Glitch Novels & Stories

His mind was in turmoil. "I wished I would just get knocked out" he was taking himself as he used unnecessary force to open the door. Grace heard him talking but what he said was incoherent to her. "Are you talking to me sir?" Marcus looked at her "would you please get the hell out of my way miss" "I thought...." "I wouldn't repeat myself Grace" he knew better than to push her out of the way Grace moved hurriedly from his way, confusion written all over her face.

she called her father to eat. (Dad) * spit the food out* YOU GOOD FOR NOTING CHILD! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS HUH? I SHOULD HAVE FORCED THAT WOMAN TO ABORT YOU WHEN SHE WAS PREGNANT WITH YOU! Her father spat the spaghetti at her face. and walked out. Earlier that night

{'Chaos is an angel who fell in love with a demon.'} "I am very disappointed..." I closed my eyes tight and leaned my head against the car window as Khloe spoke out finally after an undivided silence. I didn't say anything... I was just gobbling all the pain I was feeling right now even if I didn't want to. I couldn't help it for the reason that it was too strong and I think it would not fade away no matter how. Just hearing those cruel words from Quinn caused me to feel so vulnerable and broken. It was too intense that all of my being shattered. I didn't want to believe all of this but she slapped it in my face, breaking what we had built together.

[GLITCH GliTcH GlItch] A quick headache zap across his mind. An ai robot voice claims a mission for the first in a long time since the system collapsed. Ava was alarmed. The coldness of her feet dangling in the air. Not a single person move and not a single breath can be heard as if they were frozen in time. The senior's unbalanced punch didn't get a chance to even tap on Akira's white complexion and Ava is not in the dearest's body. Her soul sprung out of the villainess's body so fast that she didn't catch the chance to load over the situation before a blue blinding screen appears in the cold air

“Back the fuck up, you are what?” “I keep hearing this voice inside my head, but only sometimes.” “And what exactly is this voice saying? And when did it start?” “I don’t remember, do you think I’m becoming one of the flawed?” Anger rose from deep inside of me and I felt it pooling at my fingertips, I looked down and it looked like blue electricity was shooting out from them. And then I heard the voice again. We are not shadow users Charlee, we are one, and we are good. I jumped at the voice inside my head again.

Working out six hours a day, every day, and working on an eight-hour shift every night, took it's toll on him very quickly. Ever since a colleague of his suggested enhancers to boost his energy, he was able to add more hours at the gym and more hours on his shifts, and could still hang out at bars afterward. Everyone else was using it, it was common for his line of work. They call it 'the helper', which leads to other kinds of helpers, for every different need. Even actors use them too.

The man typed quickly on the computer, and the images appeared on the monitors. Alexei crossed his arms, his eyes fixed on the screens. The first few minutes showed only snow falling in front of the gates. Then a staff member doing the shift change, the steam of his breath visible in the cold air. A few more minutes. Still nothing. Then the image froze. For exactly one second, the screen flickered, an almost imperceptible glitch. When it returned, the clock in the upper right corner had jumped forward almost four minutes. Alexei remained completely still.

UNEXPECTED OBSERVER DETECTED. ANALYZING… The hiss rose at the back of my mind. The same precursor as before. “No,” I said, under my breath. “Not now.” “Clara?” Dante snapped. “You good?” “My hand—” I managed. “It’s fine. I’ve got it.” The hiss swelled. The menu glitched. Lines of code flashed and then vanished. TRIGGER: PENDING, a phantom overlay whispered where no one else could see. I yanked my hand off the keyboard like it was hot.

The glitch lasts eleven minutes. Maya counts every one. She has become good at counting them. It begins as fear management and becomes data, which is the usual migration route for anything unpleasant in Maya’s life. The first crack lasts three minutes. The second, several weeks ago, ran close to twenty and returned with something wrong in the cadence, a fractional drag between words that she notices immediately and still pretends not to. This one lasts eleven. It arrives in the middle of the rotation math. The logistics. The work she handed LUS not long ago with her eyes open and her pride temporarily locked in a cupboard where it cannot interfere.

The deep, foundational pulse of the sub-basement escapement wheel didn't remain confined to the reinforced concrete vault. By the second week of July, that slow, rhythmic 'thump' seemed to have bled upward through the old timber joists of the DUMBO warehouse, anchoring the forty-two Glitches in a collective, unhurried focus. The chaotic, frantic energy of their initial weeks had completely distilled into a smooth, deliberate momentum.