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.
Y2$20K
It all started with an email chain. Fred Schubert was just taking his first sip of lukewarm coffee from the office kitchenette when he saw the email pop up in his work inbox. The forwarded message was from Jim, an old coworker, whom he hadn't heard from in a good few months. Frowning, Fred clicked on the greeting which read, "Welcome the year 2000 in with a bang!"
By Jillian Spiridon5 years ago in Humans
45 Rotations per Minute
1954 Tupelo, Mississippi A mail truck drives down a dusty road toward an old farmhouse. Hubert sits on his porch writing in a small black leather book, worn from carrying it everywhere he goes. The cover is bowed from the bulging pages that are stuffed with various items – leaves, drawings, newspaper clippings. He hums a tune and writes on a page.
By Lee Ann Cone5 years ago in Humans
End of an H6 Haplogroup
Mesopotamia 3069 B.C. At her family’s farm estate south of the Tigris River, Cunei wiped sweat from her brown eyes with her tanned muscular arms. The low sun signaled her to finish harvesting as she bent down and ran her hands through the green leafy vegetation for the day’s last time. Even weary, she liked the touch of its crisp cool feel. She enjoyed the textile kinetic energy of finding the base of the vegetable and breaking it from the stem. Each time she harvested a plant, the soft snapping noise caused a sense of success to well up inside her. She had sheparded these plants from seed to fruit, breaking her young body from the exertion and weathering her hands to look much older than her twenty years.
By Frank Myers5 years ago in Humans
Powerful Pasts and Fortuitous Futures
Tommy’s eyes creaked open. He glanced down at his watch. 7PM. The hands never moved. His gaze wandered from Vinnie to Carl before finally resting on Joey. He stared blankly as Carl shuffled forward, swallowed nervously and removed his flat cap.
By Ravinder Mohan5 years ago in Humans
Don’t Forget
And there goes Mama again, early Sunday morning, scrubbing the floors until they’re as clean as our diet, not that we had much groceries to choose from anyway. Rent always played the competitive edge in our small studio apartment, winning an award each time that grumpy old man stopped by with his gigantic ink pen and clipboard making beats singing; “Oh Mr. and Mrs. Hope, please don’t tell me we’re feeling hopeless again.” As he approached our front door, I could hear the neighbors laughing out loud from the opposite end of the hallway. “Hahaha well, would you look at them, all strung out on hope!” Some of their jokes were insulting, but we’d ignore them, even in passing. Mama would tell me to put my headphones on or go study on the chromebook. “We need a few extra weeks Mr. Banks; we are struggling during this pandemic,” I overheard Mama say. “I’ve been patient long enough Mr. and Mrs. Ho…wait, where is your husband? Let me guess, out looking for work again huh?”
By Malcolm Wicks5 years ago in Humans
Belinda's Rules (The Power of Magic)
Moira Whitnettle was born into a pond full of lily pads with chirping crickets and frogs near a den of howling wolves. Her hair covered her scalp like fronds of black seaweed. By the time she could walk, she could speak to wolves better than with humans. When a tree ached, she could tell what it was saying, and when a snake slithered past, she could hear its thoughts, hunting for a fat toad.
By Darius Graeff5 years ago in Humans
The Unimportant Invasion
I was around eight at the time and drawing dad and I as superheroes holding hands in this black book. I remember on the radio there was a song about cats in the cradle and then it was a news break to talk about an epidemic. I was bored so, I started singing the phrase cats in the cradle over and over again. Father exclaims, 'wait' in a very loud voice. Then, like a bolt, he turns quickly to the right to face me with his hand out reaching. I flinch because of the suddenness of it all and put the black book up to guard me or protect me out of instinct. He swats towards me in the backseat. He was facing forward again and using his left hand to drive and right to swipes back. He swats at me again and grabs the black book and throws it uselessly to the floor. He Slams on the brakes like he's crazy. Big eyed he turned around and as I close my eyes, I feel the impact of what feels like the Hand of God slams my face into the car door. My arm hurts and my ears are ringing with a deafening hi-pitched (chime, tone, note). Then, next moments after that are some confusing disjointed pieces of me looking at the glass on the grass and another with my dad roughly dropping me on the floor like a sack of potatoes. He's banging on someone's door. I can make out some sounds soaking through the high-pitched note and the loudness of the world is leaking in. "What about my kid?!", he says. "He got his bell rung and he’s hurt." That was the last time I saw my dad.
By Adrian Fuller5 years ago in Humans
The coffee stain
She stroked the soft black notebook under her robes such as a mother strokes her child’s cheek, to marvel and reassure herself at its incredible existence. She steadied her breathing to bring her footsteps into order. It was not done for a woman to run through the souk. Only children and tea urchins ran the cobbled streets. To run would bring a questioning attention. In regular days, she would have lingered in the souk,and breathed in deeply the floating Omani frankincense whilst she allowed herself the pleasure of the finest Pashminas to slip between her fingers. She would have slowed to hear the insistent call of the merchants vying for her attention, offering their wares and enjoying the inevitable haggle, whilst weakly protesting that her low prices kept their children from food. Of course, it did not. It was the ancient ritual of the souk. Happiness came when a good bargain was struck and friendship beyond coinage was understood. But those had been the regular days. And those days had not been for quite some time. Today was not a regular day.
By Karen Rosman5 years ago in Humans
