Monitor Keeps Going Black For A Few Seconds Novels & Stories

The monitor blinked once and a faint dot appeared, almost imperceptible at first, like a whisper on the screen, and then disappeared completely. “There,” Damson said, “that is expected, now we wait for the signal to stabilize.” I leaned over, eyes glued to the screen, feeling a mix of frustration and impatience and fear, because every second counted and every flicker that vanished made me imagine the worst, made me picture Lily trapped, scared, or worse, and I gritted my teeth and muttered under my breath. “Come on,” I said, “stay on.” The dot reappeared a moment later, stronger this time, slightly jittery but visible, and I let out a breath I did not realize I had been holding.

[00:03] [00:02] [00:01] As soon as the number hits zero, the screen suddenly turns black. It was just a second, though. “That... was... weird” I thought to myself. Clicking the cursor, nothing changes. It seems like the system shut down. I remove the tab of it and click it back. But it isn't working. Frowning my forehead, nothing changed. No matter how mad I get, this wouldn't change anything. “Hah…”

His wolf is still on edge because I can notice his strained veins in the neck. "Yes." Monica nods and then turns back to the monitors as she presses the wand against my skin, "Oops." Her word causes me to tear my eyes away from Jarek. "What's wrong?" Jarek demands as he is instantly by my side and staring at the screen just like I am. "Well, it seems like your boys are fighting, and one has thrown a punch at the other." She laughs lightly and moves the wand for us to get a better picture. Sure enough, there is a wrestling match going on inside my belly, which I can feel and see.

Orion realized his mistake instantly. Too late. Far too late. Bianca pointed at him. “You knew about them.” Orion’s face drained of color. “No.” “You absolutely knew.” “No.” But nobody believed him. Not anymore. Then suddenly— every monitor inside the villa flickered. Once. Twice. Three times. The contestants turned. The screens came back to life. Static filled the displays. The HeartLock logo vanished. And a new image appeared. A desktop screen. Someone had hacked the broadcast again.

“Braided, as usual. No seizure flags.” “Good,” Mila said. “Let’s keep it that way.” Niko finished his own checks. He’d set up a separate console beside the chair—a jury‑rigged interface for him to monitor the Godmode side—routing through Observer compartments and enough manual breakers to make an electrician cry. “If anything looks like it’s trying to push past the handshake,” he said, tapping a red‑capped switch, “I kill the link. You’ll get ripped out of whatever you’re seeing. It’ll suck. You’ll yell at me. I’ll do it anyway.”

With hands trembling uncontrollably, his fingers flew across the keyboard, rewinding the footage from several camera angles to exactly five minutes before the blackout occurred. The massive monitor screen in front of us displayed the gradually thinning crowd in the ballroom. I spotted my own silhouette engaged in conversation, while Emelia walked a few meters away toward the refreshments table. Then, in the very next minute, the screen suddenly went gray, filled with vertical distortion lines before completely dying out. "Damn it! Why is the footage dead?!" I barked, entirely losing my patience as I slammed my fist onto the counter, cracking the surface.

"It rearranges your priorities." I almost laughed. It was the closest thing to laughing I had managed in days. My phone buzzed. Mouse. One word. Window. I was in the tech room in ninety seconds. Mouse had three monitors live and his hands moving across two keyboards simultaneously. The kind of focused multitasking that looked chaotic from the outside and was extremely precise from the inside. "The secondary device went active four minutes ago," he said without looking away from the screens. "Power draw spike exactly as expected. It opened a transmission window and I was already positioned inside the smart meter data stream, so I caught the window the moment it opened."

He was too focused, forehead creased as he rechecked the final circuit board. “The sealant’s drying wrong,” he muttered. “Humidity’s killing it.” “Everything’s killing it,” Ave said. “We should’ve left twenty minutes ago.” “I just need to tighten this relay port—” “Monroe, please, the power’s been flickering for an hour.” As if summoned, the lights overhead blinked once. Twice. Then died. Complete darkness. Ave froze. “Tell me you brought a flashlight.” “Nope,” Blake said cheerfully. “But I brought mints.”

Killian stood with his arms crossed, eyes flicking from monitor to monitor, unmoving. At eleven forty the east corridor feed showed her. Luna. Walking quickly, shoulders pulled in, disappearing around the corner toward the garden door. The picture kept rolling for another few seconds. Then it stuttered. Black screen. Four full minutes of nothing. When the image returned the corridor was empty again. Killian stared at the frozen black stretch. His jaw clenched tighter. He didn’t blink. The guard beside him swallowed hard. “Sir… that glitch wasn’t on our end. Someone cut the feed. Clean.”

Amina pointed at the screen. “My heart is beating faster.”. He looked at the monitor. Then back at her. “It says it's steady.”. “Exactly.”. Silence. And then—. The monitor spiked. Violently. The object was pointed upwards and then dragged back down. A harsh, artificial beep was heard from the device. Daniel jumped. “What the—”. And then—. It froze. Not turned off. Not broken. Frozen. The line stopped mid-motion. The sound cut out completely.