Slice Of Live Novels & Stories

He checked it — and his face went still. “What is it?” I asked. He turned the screen to me. **”A live feed”** A private Montrose facility in Zurich. Alarms blaring. Staff on the ground. The vault breached. And in the center of the footage………………. **”Luca”** Alive – Whole - Smiling into the camera. And holding a piece of the Codex. “Hello, cousin,” he said in the live feed. “I think it’s time we finally talked.”

"Are you out of your mind? Your ex-wife's life is on the line in isolation, and you're live-streaming for tips?" I looked at him coolly. "What's it to you? That's my ex-wife, not yours. Why are you getting so worked up?" I glanced at him, picked up my phone, and went back to scrolling, casually checking the tips coming in from viewers. "She's in trouble! Dr. Scarver's blood oxygen just dropped! Her vital signs are failing rapidly! If we don't intervene, she won't last half an hour! Dr. Dahmer, are you really going to just watch her die?" Lionel shouted in terror.

‎For a second, I didn’t even breathe. ‎I think my brain just… blanked. Stopped. Like the word “house” didn’t register until the silence after it punched me in the chest. ‎ ‎“My… my house?” I whispered, even though I’d heard him clearly. ‎ ‎The guy holding the phone nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. We, they hacked into one of our old surveillance channels. Someone’s streaming a live feed right now. From your property.”

I scroll through a few chaotic, strobe-lit videos of people doing beer rungs and screaming over bass so loud it distorts the microphone audio. And then, just as if it was waiting for me... my eyes catch it. It's a live story from one of the campus Greek life accounts, panning across a crowded living room. Right there, pressed against the sweaty drywall near the kitchen entrance, is Brian. My chest goes completely hollow.

Then came another buzzing sound and both our phones buzzed at once,my stomach drops then a New message displays Cute little sweep, daddy. You think I’m that sloppy? Still watching!! Always watching. Attached is a live feed from right now at from this very second the angle is from the bookshelf behind his desk, the one with all his boring business books nobody ever touches. It shows us clear as day with me straddling his lap, his hand up the shirt, my head on his shoulder while he types,We both froze like someone dumped ice water down our backs immediately he slams the laptop lid but it doesn’t matter. There’s a tiny red light blinking on the spine of one of those books. Live. Streaming. R

"Herbert, it's go-time. Caroline hurt Ella. She can't walk away. Chop her up for a prop." Herbert yanked me to a rickety table. His friend, the one livestreaming, crept up anxiously. "Something is not right, man." Herbert scowled. "Can't you see I'm busy?" The guy turned his phone toward Herbert, hesitating. "The live chat is going nuts. They're saying..."

Eleven seconds before thirty people started losing consciousness. I did not take my hand off the broadcast key. I added the live feed. Whatever was happening in that hall right now was going to every device in a ten-mile radius in real time. Not recorded footage, I mean, live. Thirty people in real time as the gas descended. I kept holding the key.

My nerves jumped, but I tried to keep my voice calm for the audience watching live. “Film everything. But Jamie, please, be quick. If the fire spreads, you’re too exposed.” As I eased around a collapsed door frame, my phone vibrated with a new alert from the station. The screen showed a message from Linda Chu, our station director, piped in with the control room chatter behind her. Her voice was brisk, urgent: “Katelyn, the live feed is steady, but we need more. The audience is starting to drop off. All the networks are showing the same wide shots, try and find something new, something that’ll hold their attention.

From the shadowed alcove behind the desk, Vincent steps into the light. He’s holding up his phone which shows a lit screen with a live feed icon pulsing in the corner. The tiny speaker crackles with distant voices – Harlan’s low murmur, Martinez asking for confirmation, the DA himself demanding timestamps. Somewhere in the background I hear the faint echo of a radio broadcast, a late-night talk show host cutting into regular programming to say, “We interrupt this program for breaking news being fed live to multiple stations across the city…” Maya’s face slowly drains of colour.

She said and looked at the letter on my lap. "What?" I gasped and covered my mouth. "You are really loud," Mahakali yawned like she is so bored. "She's not even a believer of anything how come she's in- I reasoned out. "Fine watch this carefully." Her accent was heavy. She said something that I don't understand and the wind blew grimly. I am astounded by the next thing that she did, she was commanding the tornado to show me what was happening to Adelaide. I thought I have already poured my tears a while ago. But no, there she was, the woman that I love with all my heart, handling a sharp blade in one second of staring at its sharpness she has taken her own life.