fact or fiction
Is it fact or merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores the myths and beliefs we hold about our family dynamics, traditions, and if there's such thing as a 'perfect family.'
The House That Grief Built
I never thought a single phone call could change the entire landscape of my life. But it did. I was folding laundry on a rainy Wednesday afternoon when my phone buzzed with a number I didn’t recognize. The voice on the other end was trembling. It was my mother’s neighbor, and her words hit me harder than I ever thought words could.
By noor ul amin7 months ago in Families
We Took a DNA Test as a Joke—Now We're Not Talking Anymore
It started the way a lot of things do these days—on a lazy Sunday afternoon, scrolling through social media. I saw an ad for one of those at-home DNA kits, the kind that promises to tell you where your ancestors came from and maybe connect you with long-lost relatives. I showed it to my sister, and we laughed. “Let’s do it,” she said. “Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?”
By Shoaib Afridi7 months ago in Families
The Taste of Lost Memories
The key to my grandfather’s crumbling greenhouse wasn’t metal, but wood – warped oak, smoothed by generations of touch. It felt alive in my palm, resisting the turn. With a groan that echoed through the overgrown jungle beyond the fogged glass, the heavy door swung inward. Dust motes, thick as snowfall, danced in the single shaft of weak afternoon sun piercing the grime-coated roof. The air hit me first – not decay, but density. Wet earth, ancient stone, ozone-like after a storm, and beneath it all, a dizzying kaleidoscope of scents: sharp peppermint, burnt sugar, something like old parchment, and the faint, unsettling tang of copper.
By Abdul Hai Habibi7 months ago in Families
The village that built itself. AI-Generated.
Once, in a land of rolling green fields and whispering trees, there was a small village nestled between hills. It was not marked on any grand map, and no rich king ever ruled it. But it had something far greater — unity. The people of this village lived simply, but they lived together. They built their homes from wood, straw, and stone, not with machines but with hands that were rough, calloused, and full of love.
By shah afridi7 months ago in Families
The Day We Forgot to Say Goodbye
I still remember the coffee we never drank. That morning had been unusually cold for August. Clouds hung low and heavy like wet blankets over the city, and people rushed down the streets as if they could outrun the weight in the air. You stood by the window, watching the rain without really seeing it. I stood in the doorway, trying to memorize the way you looked right then—half here, half somewhere far away.
By Hamid khan7 months ago in Families
The Rain That Stayed Too Long. AI-Generated.
It began with a drizzle—innocent, almost welcome. The dusty leaves of the neem tree outside my window trembled as droplets danced upon them. The sky was painted in strokes of ash and pearl, and I remember thinking, Finally, the heat has surrendered.
By Muhammad yaseen7 months ago in Families
The Day My Mother Broke Down
When I was a child, I thought my mother was invincible. She was the woman who could wake up early, cook breakfast, get all of us ready for school, go to work, come back and still smile while folding laundry. She seemed to have no limits. I believed she had all the answers, all the strength, all the calm in the world. I never thought to ask if she was tired. I never imagined she could be tired.
By Hassan Jan7 months ago in Families
The Clock on the Wall
I never liked that clock. It was in our lounge room, a tacky, ticking plastic affair that was never quite right for the decor. The glass was broken from when I'd thrown a cricket ball indoors and blamed the kid next door. The numbers were beginning to wear off. Yet my father never got a new one.
By Muhammad Usama7 months ago in Families
