Omniscient Reader Viewpoint Novels & Stories

Khali said. "You want me to check it?" Rye asked Khali said nothing, but she blushed. Rye was staring at the sea. Since it was dawn, the breeze was cold. They were silent for a few minutes and did not talk. "Am I boring?" Rye suddenly asked Khali turned to him. "Of course not. Why did you come up with that?" "I just thought about it." Rye just said. Khali wasn't saying anything; she averted her eyes from Rye. She loses control of her ability. She could read Rye's thoughts; it was as though her thoughts were breaking her heart. Khali's tears came out of thin air.

I could feel the words being processed, translated into pixels and light on a screen somewhere far beyond this field. The Eye blinked. The clouds around it swirled, forming into the shape of a colossal, transparent hand that descended toward the ground. It didn't try to crush me. It hovered, palm up, waiting. "It wants a conclusion," the Reader said, appearing at my side. Their form was fading now, becoming a sketch of pencil lines. "The Archive was a prison. This field is a sanctuary. But the Audience... they want an ending. They want to know if the tragedy was worth the price of the ticket."

My voice did not shake. The man tilted his head. He didn't have a face, just a shifting darkness where his features should be. "You can call me the Reader," he said. His voice sounded like paper rubbing together. "I am the one who pays for the ink. I am the one who decides if your story ends here or keeps going." Bryan stepped in front of me, his hand on his pistol. "He’s another code, Hazel. Don’t listen to him." The Reader laughed. It was a dry, thin sound. "A copy thinks he has a choice. How cute."

With me. Glancing at Malik, I notice the Alpha of Love looking very thoughtful. I decide to ask him what he is thinking about. "I think we should get a gaze reader in...Maybe she can see what happened to Lexia," he says. Everyone pauses, as the first words of reason for the day come out of Malik's mouth. Of course. A Gaze Reader could look into my eyes, and predict where we find Lexia in the future. If we find her.

Third Person POV "Ladies and gentlemen! It saddens me in a joyful way that four people have now made it to the winner level, but we are still unable to choose. My goodness! It was as if their brains contained this world as a whole, and there was nothing that they didn't know, It was clearly impossible, yet it was happening here before our eyes. Our questions are running out, but goodness may have it, we are inquiring more and more questions, and how we will continue from now on is to ask, ask and ask till three drops out finally!"

"Please. I beg of you." The Gaze reader grabs the edge of my seat, dragging me with a sudden unknown strength closer to the point our knees were touching. There's something so much more frightening about these people close up. The milky eyes, the stench of magic leaking from their skin. It is adds up, but they have no power outside their mind reading abilities.

#HAREM_OF_LUST 🔞 #CHAPTER_3 🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓 🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓 🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓 🍓🍓🍓 🍓🍓 🍓 #OMNISCIENT_POV

she looked at me, panicking as though I gave her a death sentence. “Closing her case will not affect your business in any manner, or my investments. I want you to concentrate on finding the mouse who created a blind-spot in my omniscient sight of the Prime pack.” Nesryn frowned. “Blind-spots in o-omniscient sight? Infernals can’t block your sight and Celestials can’t enter the underworld without losing their celestial wolf spirits. So how is this mouse creating blind-spots in your sight? This is the first time,” Nesryn said thoughtfully.

The quietness of it had a different quality from the quietness of an empty room - the quality of something that has been said and cannot be unsaid, of a direction chosen that has closed the alternative directions behind it. I sat back down and opened my laptop. I went to the article. Not searching for weaknesses in it, not looking for the sentence that could be challenged or the paragraph that could be reframed. I read it as a reader would - as someone encountering it without prior knowledge of the person at its center, without any investment in how it reflected on anyone in particular. She had not named me.

Clara said, pointing. Anya read it. “I know,” she said. “You’ve been protecting something in that sentence,” Clara said. “What is it?” Anya thought about it honestly. “The reader who will find it self-indulgent,” she said. “The reader who will think the specific is too small, too personal, not worth the space it takes.” “That reader doesn’t exist,” Clara said. “I know they don’t,” Anya said. “My body doesn’t know that yet.”