Imagine Novels & Stories

Who knows what he would manipulate me to think in here. “You’re crazy,” I hear myself saying. Thought doesn’t react the way I assumed he would, not appearing offended at all. He simply loosens a deep breath, backing up a few steps to one of the stacks of books against the wall, looking at the spines as if they actually exist. I have to remember that nothing around me exists. Thought isn’t someone who I can touch, and feel real sensations. Even if I did, it would be a simulation. A terrifying one, too.

Every time I had tried, the object was always within arm's reach. "Okay," I murmured softly, a gentle smile curling my lips as I nibbled on my finger in a mixture of eagerness and apprehension. "Let's do this." I fixed my gaze upon the book, allowing my mind to conjure a vivid image of it in my imagination. I could envision its weathered spine, the softness of its white pages, the scent of ink imprinted upon it. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to become consumed by the vision, surrendering wholly to the formidable power of my imagination.

You don't throw stones on the other you disbelieve. I am researching imagination. Einstein said imagination was a superior target of intellect. He believed that. I do believe it too. My imagination keeps me spellbound in my dreams. I realise little has more and more has nothing that can repair me from within. Life's infinite goal begins with a single step but needs giant intellectual leaps. That's what my medicine for killing death away from me will do for me.

“C’mon, it’s not that hard. Imagine it’s the one person you hate the most and it’s going to come out smoothly. Say whatever comes to your mind.” I swallowed and looked at the Beanbag. Imagine it. I told myself. “Son of a…bitch.” I didn’t see anyone yet and saying left a bad taste on my tongue. My voice was barely audible . Zena clicked her tongue. “You’re gonna have to do better than that. Try again.” I sighed. Closed my eyes and tried to imagine all of the faces of the people I detested. It took a second but the images began to pop up one after the other, as well as the memories of it all.

He looks carefully at the abstract art he's drawing, "What is the theme? Mind telling me?" Tom picks up a small brush and takes some yellow color from the palette, staring at the drawing. "After a long time of struggle, a bird freed itself from its cage, it came to know the taste of freedom. It knew very well the world inside the cage, but what it didn't know was the outside world. The taste of freedom was very unique, until it drifted into the danger of unknown, foreign outside world, 'cause it was nothing like inside of the bars," he grazes the yellow color slowly.

God, HELP ME! The door creaked. Kit took a step and was blinded for a moment - after absolute darkness, the dim light of candles slashed her eyes like a razor. Shutting her eyes shut, she waited a few seconds and opened her eyes. Hank! His tall, thin figure writhed on a rope, held up by his bound hands. The eyes above the duct-taped mouth turned into saucers full of horror. She took a quick step towards him, but a cold voice behind her hissed: “Uh… stop, doll…” and she had to freeze, covered with icy goosebumps. Here he is, the Imitator, Harry 2, a step behind her...

CATHERINE POV "I want you to imagine yourself as a little girl," the voice said. "Can you do that?" I closed my eyes and I focused. I imagined myself as a little girl, about five years old. I was in my room, with my dolls and my stuffed animals. I was sitting on the floor, playing. "Good," the voice said. "Now, I want you to imagine that you are playing with your dolls and your stuffed animals. What are you playing?"

A smile breaks through my expression when I see the image of a large, veiny dick she once sent to me and asked me to imagine the dick belonged to one of my rejected mates. “Imagine what you're missing out on, Beth.” She’d attached the words to the image. To buttress her point, she sent me a picture of a woman sandwiched between two masculine figures, her head thrown back in ecstasy and her hair swirling around them. It's a beautifully sensual image. And she wrote, “This could be you, my dearest Nun.” I jerk my attention away when I realize I'm actually envisioning myself in the image, between four particular gorgeous Nobles… Who

The System then replied coldly, "Imagine." Danial thought that the System would speak further, but it didn't. He was a little stunned, followed by disappointment. Imagine? What did the System mean by that? He wanted to ask for an instructor to help him with this but hesitated. He felt like the System would not give such advice if there was no benefit in it. So he further asked the System, "What should I imagine?" The System replied, "Imagine fire and use your internal energy with it."

Break the concentration and it just becomes a hollow imagination. The induced hyper consciousness helps to fill the gaps in the fabricated macrocosm. In simple terms, one needs to reconstruct and relive the world. The complexity and efficiency of the image training entirely depend on the person itself. The image training can let you fight a bona fide god; if you can imagine him. The ones with a fighting background already know about this method. Many people do image training. However, there was never a mention of an incident of a person losing subconscious control over his own body, similar to Creed.