The Mimic Game Novels & Stories

Her voice was gone. Only the shard of broken glass on the floor still faintly shimmered where she had been. From the crowd, someone whispered, “Maybe this is some trick by the professor…” No one responded. Because a question had begun to rise inside everyone — If this is a game… then how does it end? Suddenly, a laugh echoed from the back row. Rishabh. Always smiling. Always the one who made fun of everything. He stood up and said casually, “Why are you all so scared? Come on, yaar. This is just a psychological game.

My heart skipped a beat when he put his hands on the wall and leaned close to me, ripping my strength to replace it with his intoxication. "Miss Beth." He whispered huskily, completing his sentence, moving his face so close to mine. I shuddered as I could feel his malicious plans under my fingernails, stirring my mind. "What game?" I asked in a whisper, not liking this at all but his offer was too good to resist. He let out a low yet dark chuckle and moved to my neck and spoke up in a whisper, "For the next ten minutes, I will seduce you and if the word 'Please' escaped your lips. You lose."

Mason's father watched game tape the way other people read contracts. Frame by frame, pausing at specific moments, rewinding, watching again, building a case from evidence that Mason had learned, over sixteen years, was never going to close in his favor. The television in the living room had been on since seven, the Thursday night replay of last week's game running on mute while his father sat forward on the couch with his elbows on his knees and the particular focused stillness of a man conducting an assessment.

A mechanical voice sounded, "Welcome to the Family of Four game instance. Please play your role as "Mom." "Clear condition: Survive 10 days and safely board the plane back to the real world. Players: 100. Survivors: 100. "Your real-world body is currently in a vegetative state. Only clearing the game will wake you. Death in-game means real death. Enjoy your stay." I was a housewife on my way back from grocery shopping when the car accident happened. When I opened my eyes, I found myself inside a game world.

Round two came around, and we put up a good fight, because we ended up winning. We played like this back and forth until we were all slightly tipsy, which felt kind of good not going to lie. The next game, we were going to take shots for every person that could not guess what the mime was trying to tell them. For example, you are the mime, and you are given the word. People then have to guess what word you got, and all you can do to help them, is replicate the word by making gestures. Failing to guess the word, results in taking a shot.

“Let’s finish the game.” “He better not start anything,” Declan muttered as we all moved back to our positions. “He won’t,” I cut in quickly. Jackson raised an eyebrow. “How do you know that?” “He just won’t, okay?” I insisted Or at least I hoped so. Jackson didn’t look convinced, but he dropped it. The game resumed, loud and chaotic, but my focus wasn’t really there anymore. Every serve, every laugh, every shout blurred at the edges. Because even when I wasn’t looking at him—I could feel him.

The world before my eyes began to crumble. The Coronation Hall, the bloodstained throne, Killian’s cooling corpse... Everything shattered like a mirror struck by a heavy hammer, dissolving into countless motes of light. The System’s voice rang out in the void one last time, filled with arrogant charity: [Congratulations on clearing the game. Wish granted: Full Resurrection.] [Disconnecting...] [Game Over.] Route 66, The RV. A violent jolt. I snapped my eyes open.

I asked. Tobi’s sister nodded at me. “Alright, be sure to bring her back.” She jokingly said before leaving the two of us. When Tobi’s sister is far enough from us, I pulled Mika away from a secluded area where people won’t be able to hear the things we’re about to talk about. Mika turned her gaze towards me, confused. “What is happening here?” She asked, I gulped then pressed both of my lips together. “What about you, what are you doing here?” I asked.

“Care to enlighten me?” “You don’t need a pretend girlfriend to go to your sister's wedding. You could actually go alone. And if you’re desperate enough for a date, you could always get anyone. You are Dominique Gray. A lot of women would kill to go on this trip with you. And if you ever run out of choices, you could get an escort. All of this is part of your little game to get inside my pants again.” “The last time I checked you picked out the game and you failed. Did you do that on purpose? Because a part of you is enjoying this little game of ours and you wouldn’t like for it to come to an end.”

“What’s going to happen?” “He’ll probably be here for a few days, and then my parents will take him home and try to get him into rehab again. This is another reason why I didn’t bring him up, Quinn,” Archer says, and the emotion in his voice kills me. “This happens over and over, and this won’t be the last time.” The microwave beeps in the background. “Anyway, I looked up robot fights while I was waiting and I have to say it’s pretty fucking cool.” “It is! Careful you don’t get sucked in. You’ll start watching a fight or two here and there and then it becomes your life and you’re under-the-table funding lasers to go on your team’s robot.”