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 Jump
So cold and clinical, the feel almost devoid of life. Can’t believe this will be the last place I ever see him—my papa—his mind sharp as a tack but his body too tired to go on. Well, that’s what he told me when they took him away in the ambulance last week… Waiting for my turn to say goodbye…
By Trisha Olsen5 years ago in Families
The Search
Casmin had only just turned eighteen the previous week and already her parents were hassling her to get a job and move out. There were daily arguments about everything and anything- this morning they had argued about the window being left open on the latch, which of course ended with Casmin crying again, a frequent result. She only wanted to listen to the thunderstorm that had begun in the early hours of the morning.
By Carmen Taylor5 years ago in Families
Uncle Arthur
Until about 3 months ago, Uncle Arthur was a man who never feared his actions. It was as if his head bounced off the pillow at dawn, already knowing what the day entailed. When he went to the races, he always won. He never got a big win, but he made £10 here or there, and one time he even won £100. He always spoke about when my father was drafted for the war. Uncle Arthur was always certain he would come home. After a while, our family grew superstitious of what appeared to be luck. He invariably realized the outcome of his plans before they were finished. The rest of the family started asking him if he could help them “see their fate” but every request was faced with a stern no and for whatever reason we never opposed his refusal.
By Matthew Keogh5 years ago in Families
Evolution of a Table
It was their first piece of proper furniture, grown-up furniture Lydia called it, after they’d got married. They were both graduate students, living off tiny grants and part-time jobs, and the table took the pride of place in their miniscule sitting room in the flat they’d found over a chip shop. It smelled of greasy haddock and the windowpanes rattled every time a car went past, but it was their home, and the table was the start of making it so.
By Kate Hewitt5 years ago in Families
THE LITTLE BLACK BOOK
She ran her hand through her long hair. Her hair had once been her crowning glory. Now, the once luxurious locks, had lost some of the walnut shine, the grey mixed with white caused the illusion of a lighter color. She kept her hair long almost to her waist; but instead of letting it run free across her shoulders, she usually either pulled it back in a braid or a ponytail. Her eyes betrayed her age. She now required glasses to read and even then, a bright light was needed.
By Sylvia Bennett5 years ago in Families
Studebaker Studios Presents
This was not your average celebration of life. Canes were swinging, the elderly were dancing, and champagne corks shot across the room like fireworks with streams of liquor trailing behind them. Uncle Studebaker was much like the Count in A Series of Unfortunate Events. No one, except his nephew Hansel, was disappointed when he passed away. In fact, the town was so relieved to hear of his passing that most of the people who attended his funeral went solely to make sure he was actually dead. The result of their findings created a rhapsody of relief that was nearly palpable. People ran around with expressions so exuberant you'd think they'd just been freed from slavery or won a war. The raucous partying continued all night.
By Michael J. Heil5 years ago in Families
The Window
Mom’s eyes were heavy and a little red as she entered through the front door with a cardboard box clutched in her hands. Dad popped up from the couch and put one arm around her while he lifted the box with the other. The overflowing box, now on the coffee table, blocked my view of the TV. She had spent the day helping Grandma clean out some of my Grandfather’s belongings. Papa passed a few weeks ago. My whole life, all 15 years of it, I only remembered him being frail and confined to his chair. His life was pretty much books, news, and The Price is Right.
By Kimberly Snyder5 years ago in Families
Family is everything
It was about 1:30 in the morning when he came into this world, the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck, feet first, and fighting for his life. Jason was the third attempt at childbirth by his mother, and for some strange reason, he survived. The first would’ve been about 10 years of age , the second, oh about 15 to 16years of age, but aside from all of that Jason survived. Around his 14th birthday he began to see images in his sleep about a little black rectangle, stuck behind a wall. He would knock a hole in the wall, reach in for the object, but he always appeared too imbedded for him to move. No matter how he pulled, and tugged, no matter what he used to try to pry the thing out, it just wouldn’t move, and the very moment it seems as if it were coming loose, he would wake up with the fading image of the little black rectangle in his head for the rest of his day. Years went by and for the love of everything he had known Jason just could not figure out why he continued to have these “dreams” about the rectangle. Was it some strange message meant to turn his life upside down?!, was it some mysterious sign of something coming his way?!, or was he actually crazy enough to see this “ thing” for no obvious reason at all?! How could he find out, and who could he even begin to try and confide in to see if some inkling of sense would be made of it all?! Perplexed, Jason considered the fact that maybe there was more to this “mystery” shape than met the eye, and he had better start taking more “interested” approach to the matter. After all, he was 40 years old now, and in the midst of everything life could have to offer, or give for that matter, this wretched “rectangle” would simply not go away from his thoughts, nor dreams, and it was time to get to bottom of this whole “Pandora rectangle” thing, he had enough. On his way one morning to a “shrink’s” office that was recommended by a friend, of a friend, of a friend, Jason was distracted by a small black rectangular shape that seemed to move through city scape with him as he drove downtown to meet this “ Doctor” and could not resist the urge to actually see if that indeed was the case, and little did Jason know that was exactly what it was, he was being followed. It felt as if the “object was calling to him, beckoning him to find its place of rest, and see what was in store for him. It was at that particular moment Jason made the decision to answer the call, and find his precious rectangle, that had plagued his dreams and visions for most of his life, it was time to put an end to not knowing jut what this mysterious shape was. Having no known family throughout his adult life was one of the other things in his life that seemed to enter and exit his thoughts randomly it seemed, just like the little black rectangle did , ever and over again. Jason had no known living relatives, and going throughout life watching other people with their families, and hearing the conversations about who was bringing what to the family reunion this year, and who’s house they going to for Sunday dinner rang in his ears day in and day out, forcing Jason to yearn for family of his own, only to end up with more people in his life that were “like” family, until. Jason, in his persistent search for the little black rectangle, ventured off into a part of the city he normally steered clear of, the “south side”, everyone hated the south side, and Jason was none the different. In an alley, about two blocks long itself, aand about as wide as three tractor trailers, he noticed a small black corner of something protruding out of what appeared to be a wall of of some sorts. The closer Jason got to the object the more and more he felt as if he were falling asleep, it made him feel as if he had finally found “it”, the rectangle, the enigma that antagonized him his whole adult life, and then it hit him, like a flash of light from one of those cheap drugstore cameras with the overly bright flash, it wasn’t just some black rectangle, it wasn’t just some strange vision Jason was having, in fact what he saw this time, was a little black book. He began to look around for something he could use to get it free from the dilapidated structure and located an old crowbar which he used to carefully break and remove the debris surrounding it, when he finally had it in his hands, he turned it over after dusting it off and read the title out loud in an overwhelming wave of tears, it said, Jason’s family!
By David A Rodriguez5 years ago in Families
Blue Ink
Papa Carlisle had been a man of systems. He said life should work like a train—one station leading to another, on a schedule. With order came reliability, and with reliability, happiness. That year I lived with him and grandma, he’d wake up every day at 6am and brew a pot of coffee. With a mug, two cigarettes, and the paper, he took the elevator down to the lobby and sat at a table under the awning out front. From his seat, the fifteen story high rise he managed ran straight toward the sky, like it was barely there. But I remember on those drives to Silver Spring, it towered over the strip malls and office buildings on Georgia Ave. He’d read the headlines, the sports page, then came back upstairs to set his book, leaning on the kitchen counter over a calculator, his reading glasses sliding down his nose.
By David E. Yee5 years ago in Families
