Skips: I've Seen This Before Novels & Stories

Not even two minutes later, there was a skip in the feed that accounted for about thirty seconds. I opened command files, looking for any type of corruption, but there was none. “We need Dahlia to look at this. There’s no type of corruption, but there’s a thirty second skip in the feed. We need to know if someone did this. Maybe it’s not even tech related but magical…” I mused. Multiple angry auras filled the office, signaling the arrival of our people. I took a steadying breath before looking and seeing a sight that I would later laugh at. Headmaster Vaughn was damn near cowering in the corner as Mom glared at him.

The first monster I killed during my awakening. When I killed the wild boar, my next concern was George leg. During my concern and worries, I even trembled when I held his leg. Unbelievably, I saw his leg bone like an x-ray. Then I felt my body releasing something and went directly to George leg. I saw with my own eyes his cracked bones slowly healing. And the wound also healing faster. After that scene, George and I look at each other again. We both dumbfounded and he embraced me tightly when he saw my face turned pale.

I blinked, trembling at the sight. “Are you angry at me, Marcus?” I whispered. He leaned over me, his length brushing my thigh, his voice raw and dark. “Very.”

' I looked at him as a lot of questions ran through my mind. Instead of taking the hand he offered, I rested my weight on my palm resting on the floor and raised myself from the ground. I moaned in pain as I mistakenly rested my weight on my injured leg, I heard a growl that shook me to the core, I looked up to see the blue color in his eyes gone replaced with black it focused on the injury on my leg which now has dried blood surrounding it.

The less I know, the more I watch. Maybe she loves him. Maybe she always has. Maybe I have been a layover on her long haul to someone else. I force myself to exhale and rewind to the beginning again. The audio fuzzes, the pixelation fights for clarity. The frame jitters in a way real footage rarely does. And then I see it—so small I’d missed it the first ten times—something tucked into the left corner of the image, flashing for a heartbeat when the camera shifts: a faint icon.

I hurry over to the desk, swipe dust from the area, and start rolling back the clip to the day I almost died. While one hand controls the screen, the other holds fast to my taser. My senses are heightened still. Finally getting the actual date and time, I click the ‘OK’ icon. Nothing. “How?” I sigh and go again. Still, nothing. The joke isn't sitting well with me. Instead of putting in the time, I only use the date and fast forward through the clip till midnight the next day… It jumps, indicating a missing clip. Holy hell. He was here too?!

“I know.” “We’re minutes from vote.” “I know.” She stopped walking. “Make this quick.” I handed her my tablet. “Watch carefully.” She scanned the footage. Her expression didn’t change. “Everyone’s seen this.” “Not this version.” I zoomed in to the timestamp gap. Her eyes narrowed. “Frame skip,” she murmured. “Yes.” She watched again. And saw it. The reflection. Her posture shifted — not softer, not relieved. Sharper. “It’s incomplete,” she said.

She pouted and said in a spoiled tone, "Hmph. You've gotten sick of me already, haven't you? That's why you won't let me sit on your lap." I hurriedly explained, "How could I ever get sick of you? I'd do anything to have you sit on my lap. "But this is the road test, not the field test. For the field test, we're in a closed lot, and no one is watching. But for the road test, we go on public roads, and the police might stop us." Alice put her hands on my thigh and begged pitifully, "I already failed the field test four times. I really can't fail this one, or I'll have to start all over."

Tried not to think about late nights, closed hotels, language barriers, or the fact that I was suddenly very aware of how far from home I was. Then my phone buzzed in my hand. The vibration was sharp and sudden, cutting through the quiet like a warning bell. Relief surged instinctively as I glanced down. Good, I thought. Information. Solutions. It evaporated instantly. We regret to inform you that due to unforeseen circumstances, your reservation has been cancelled. I stared at the screen. Then I read it again. And again. Like repetition might soften the words. Like maybe they would rearrange themselves into something less final.

When Carl called, my swollen eyes flicked to the time—almost eleven. The phone buzzed in my hand, fresh tears splashing onto the screen. Three calls. I didn't pick up. Surprisingly, the fourth was from Mia. I was about to shut off my phone when Carl's message popped up: [Stop messing around. I'm not coming back tonight. Stay safe. Your condition isn't serious, right?] A bitter laugh slipped out. I replied: [Not serious at all. Have fun. I'm going to sleep.]