fact or fiction
Is it a fact or is it merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores relationship myths and truths to get your head out of the clouds and back into romantic reality.
The Sadness of a Coward
Cowards are not born, we are made. But at what point did we embrace fear as our modus vivendis and for how long are we going to choose to live under such dark vail? This article is intended for you, who fears your own shadow and feels bad for not being able to muster the courage to be yourself. With this, I intend to share what I’ve discovered whilst facing the scariest of my demons, in the hope that it will also help you as it is helping me, to find the understanding and clarity within my sad and frightened heart to become fearless.
By Eduardo Emris Blanco5 years ago in Humans
Haunted By Natchez
I want to tell you a story. It’s a true story, with a little bit of history, ghosts, new life, and a dash of politics. I want to tell you this story because it has been rattling around inside me for almost a decade. And this morning something said, “Today is the day.”
By Pamela Darbyshire5 years ago in Humans
On the Beach!
While working for Sealaska Timber, back in the 90's, The M/V Albisol had been blown onto the beach at the Port of Hydaburg, Alaska. The ship had arrived the day prior, and had been moored to the three anchor buoys, one on the bow, and two on the stern. During the night, a storm with strong winds pressed hard on the port side bow of the ship, straining the brakes on the two winches holding the bow lines. the ships crew had not set the dogs that lock the winches, so the brakes eventually began to slip, until the the bow was completely free, as the ship started to turn away from the anchor, and had turned broadside to the storm.
By John Dooley5 years ago in Humans
In His Teacup
Kevin takes another sip of his jasmine tea as he waits for Mike to show up for their lunch date at Tranquil-a-Tea. They had been dating for only four months, but Kevin is thinking he should end things. He loves Mike, but he feels something might be missing. He had been married once. A woman. It took him three years to realize he was gay and the divorce was a rancorous, tumultuous time for both him and Marilyn.
By Shawn Ingram5 years ago in Humans
Desire's Dearest Friend
I woke from a dream this morning with a smile, no unusual occurrence. Yet, walking over to the mirror, that smile welled larger than life when red stained teeth stood before my eyes. You know the feeling when you wake up from a dream too good to be true, and you can't help but fantasize if it were. In this rare moment, real memories flowed in and filled the mind with butterflies. A river of hope and glee, not sadness and disconnectedness, flowed. Months of dating in a new, unfamiliar world, with little more than a sexual, pent up drive behind each encounter. A real date had transpired, not ending in sex or even a kiss, but a hug that gave me goosebumps all the way into fingertips. We matched on a dating app, as did I with the rest. I sure didn't see it going anywhere and stepped out for one more chance. His profile bored me, but I didn't see it fair to judge his ability to swoon me. Maybe a changed perspective could lead to something less casual? I only selected that option because I believed people feared the serious word these days. Anyways… I’m getting carried away. See last time I went for the pickup line, the guy left me in the middle of the night… No note, no message, no call, nothing. Looking in the same mirror, a blank face stood before me, no smile, no hope, and no sleep, much less dreams. Well, there were dreams, but one’s of discomfort and uneasiness, a rustling which woke me to realize I was alone. Oh, how good it felt to grasp something real for change. Thankful to have interacted with a heart beating whole, not torn, something was different. The heart sank for a moment as I walked down my stairs and out the door. I thought I saw his truck pull away, but couldn’t tell. God, please tell me he’s not a stalker. Why would he run away? Surely, he saw me if that was in fact him. Scratching my head, don’t overthink this Desi, you are meant to be desired and loved. What’d I even come out here to do? Oh yes, the mail. Letting out a yawn, it stopped half way. Aarzoo had stopped by after all. A bouquet of meticulously selected flowers, the daisy and the daffodil, hand-picked and wrapped in Mississippi forest picked twine. Not only had he heard me last night, he noticed me. The bouquet on my blouse he brought to life. Of course, I closed my eyes as tight and slapped myself silly. Desi, you are dreaming, and this is not reality. Nestled in the mailbox, a little letter sat. The mind settled into euphoria, arms crossed, the letter cradled into the chest. Opening the heart to receive words, no longer daydreaming, but living, breathing, breaking a seal of a letter written to her. How the emotions ring different in this moment from the rest, a seal being broken, not my heart. Well, don’t speak too soon Desi, read the words first: Desi, I’m not one to jump to conclusions until now. You asked me to set up the date, and to each event selected, you were wowed. Two beings united for one simple night. I left from you feeling love existed last night. From the hammock sunset on Lake Lorman, to the char-grilled fish we attempted to eat, to you laughing at my wine matching, Merlot unfit for the fish we caught, much less chocolate fondue dipped sweets. You lovingly enjoyed every moment, as did I, and the conversation rang in my head long into the night. Thank you for bringing light into the world in these times. I know this wasn’t your first rodeo with dating apps, but I hope it’ll be the last. When our mouths opened and stated this at the very same time, something within me changed, and I had to grow tough not to cry: You make me believe in love at first site. These words we both carefully selected as we considered each other’s eyes, laugh, smile, touch, voice. Maybe this moment was too good to last, but I bring you these flowers to continue a night unsurpassed. Pick your poison on how to respond. Your words sure don’t have to be poetic, but “if music be the food of love, play on.” This only stands at my attempt of being your modern-day Shakespeare. Soo until we meet again, may your dreams be vivid and beautiful, and may I be included. For you filled my heart again to believe in love, and for that alone I am thankful. Smiling into the Mississippi Sunset, Aarzoo The letter grew close to Desi’s chest again. What she had longed for so long finally came in. Unlike the creeping love had done before, loved poured over her every pore. Love disconnected from her body and attached in mind, spirit, soul. Desired for who she was at the core, not the surface, of course she wanted more. So back inside she ran, again looking to the mirror to let out a grin. Teeth stained from the night before, desire met desired, and true love emanated like no time before. Pen met paper for Desi as well, and there flowed her sonnet. Dear Aarzoo, No matter where I run to, it will always be with you…
By Daniel Trussell5 years ago in Humans
