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.
Faith
Heartbroken, as I walked through the airport feeling depressed and lonely. Loneliness was something that was all to familiar with me, never felt as if I belonged or accepted. So here I am again leaving to go back home, fired from my job, relationship in the toilet.
By Audrey E Miller5 years ago in Humans
One Page
Brenna stood in the shadow of the Washington Monument, quaking as she breathed in the cool, mildew smelling air of post-rain D.C. Was it really that cold? No. Was she terrified about what she was about to do? Yes! She was absolutely a 5’6” tall, 32-year-old, blonde ball of nerves and that’s saying something given all that she’d done.
By Andrew McAuley5 years ago in Humans
Dreams can made from a dollar
Garage sales seem to be exclusively american, I guess the english equivalent is a car boot sale, but I think I prefer garage sales. It's a more intimate way of shopping through someone else's personal rubbish, toot and supposed heirlooms. In England you would be mortified to open up the side of your house and wait for any passing stranger to come wandering in and finger through your old belongings, which regardless of the dust they have gathered over the years, you still have an affection for. No, the english are much more comfortable with arriving at a school car park at 5am on a chilly sunday morning to stand with 50 other people trying to make a few quid, which will most likely be used to buy more rubbish, toot and heirlooms to sell at another car boot sale in 10 years time. But here in the U S of A the natural pride of Americans really comes out when you pull up, step onto the strangers lawn, walk up to the little table (like I am now) and “Hi, what you spotted? I got some great stuff here.” says the overweight, sweaty man sitting in his lawn chair like its a throne, he’s wearing a hawaiin shirt, beige cargo shorts and interrupting my train of thought mate you couldn’t look more like a stereotype if you tried.
By Oliver Crane5 years ago in Humans
Worth It
Mia Rayne was a girl who didn’t have much in the way of “good luck.” She was always late, her car always broke down at the worst of times, and when it came time to spend money? Well, there was no money to spend. Every once in a blue moon, she’d be able to scrape together a few coins to get herself a scratch-off lotto ticket with the hopes that she’d win just enough to get herself out of financial hardship, at least for a little while.
By Peyton Fullam5 years ago in Humans
A Giant's Dream
Reno felt the cold, brisk, wind, smacked his face and briefly closed his lids. Embracing the dull pain emanating from his left cheek, he pushed the slight discomfort aside. Avoiding dentist’s at all cost, it's been quite a few years since his last visit. Wondrous pain in all its manifestation has been a close friend to Reno; not to mention a consistent reminder of being alive. Glancing briefly at his watch, Reno quickened his long strides with only ten minutes remaining before starting his nightly rounds. Wednesdays were pivotal days as the local garbage bins were full with all sorts of treasures. Having to think outside the box to financially sustain himself; dumpster diving provided an avenue for his immediate needs. Glancing briefly at his watch, five hours remained before pick up. Early birds do catch worms in this business, as Reno’s competitors range from the homeless to city trucks. Diagnosed with gigantism, growth considered abnormal in children; Reno preferred to travel before dawn. Standing at an impressive yet intimidating 9ft, he never got used to the constant staring he received from others.
By Waldina Franklin5 years ago in Humans
Dawn
Eleanor had agreed to the interview for two reasons. She needed the money, but she was also doing it for Scott, the poet who had once been her lover. Though their relationship had only lasted a year, it had inspired over a dozen of his best published poems. Her favourite, called Dawn, was about the night they’d spent together at the small beachside house she had inherited from her parents, and where they’d seen the sun rise over the Atlantic Ocean.
By Paul Ibell5 years ago in Humans
Chapter 25
Sometimes as I approached the table I could already feel his order coming, for 10 years he had occupied the same table every morning between 11:00 and 11:45. He ordered the exact same thing every time. That’s 3,650 times he sat in that seat, 3,650 times he ate the exact same meal. Harold was not a man who had made his life from shortcuts and he was not someone who tolerated people who did. Even his order had to be placed in full...one time 5 years earlier in '77 a well-meaning waitress had brought his order back to the kitchen when she saw him come in. She poured his coffee and left it at the table, Harold sat in front of the cup for 10 minutes until she brought his order out. "what is this!?" demanded Harold "it's your order" said the young woman "you must be mistaken because I didn't order anything" he countered. The whole place watched as she was forced to take the order back and have the exact same thing remade, then as the line re-cooked his meal, the outcome they had all predicted, the young girl was subject to an angry lecture on how such efforts to suck up only lead people to think less of you, in the 10 minutes it took to make his order she had been broken down completely.
By Sabrina Johnson5 years ago in Humans
The Number Runner's Notebook
It was just laying there next to the trash bin. I hate it when folks miss the mark, although the lid is heavy and awkward to lift – a poor choice for a 55+ complex. And to add insult to injury, a notebook should be in the recycle bin, not the trash bin. The condo is fussy, and I don’t blame them! Since I have my “trash gloves” on, I just picked it up to take to the car. At least the trash bin is in my parking lot. Yes, I know I could walk to the recycle bin in the next lot, but it’s on the way to the main exit and I can recycle it in on my next trip. Next trip, that’s a laugh! If the coffee shop delivered, I’d never leave the condo.
By Colleen O'Connell5 years ago in Humans
