Warning!
When I set out to write this story, I didn't expect to stumble into the void myself. But there it was—a vast, indifferent expanse that greeted me not with claws or teeth, but with the hum of a narrative rewriting itself. No monsters lurked in its depths, only the flicker of a dying screen, the static between channels, and the eerie sense that we are all just characters in a story far larger than ourselves—and maybe, just maybe, we've always been.
This realization shaped everything you're about to read. The void isn't some Lovecraftian abyss filled with eldritch horrors. It's something quieter, yet infinitely more unsettling: the blank page, the unwritten draft where realities wait in limbo. It's the feeling that our lives might be drafts, rewritten at the whim of an unseen author, our choices mere plot points in a cosmic script.
If anything here strikes a chord, consider it a ripple from my own encounter. Maybe you'll glimpse the void too—in the static of an old radio, the stutter of a broken clock, or the moments when your reflection feels like someone else's. Or maybe you already have, and these words will feel like a mirror. This isn't your typical horror book—no jump scares, no boogeyman, no serial killer. The horror isn't out there; it's already inside you, creeping up as you piece together what's happening.
Webnovel doesn't have a tag for this—cosmic horror doesn't quite fit. It's something else: a peek into a void where stories write themselves, and characters—like us—might not be as free as we think. If you're willing to stare into that, to wrestle with your own existence, religion, and ego, then step in. But be warned: once you see the script, you can't unsee it.
Either way, welcome. You're not alone—and you're not the first to wonder if this is all just a story. Turn the page, and you might start to see the strings and knots.