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.
Endless Morning
Ꚛ The story in this little black book might be a dream. At this point I really have no idea. I have never written in a dream, so does that make this real? The impossibility of this situation cannot be anything but a dream and yet I can cry and love and feel pain, so it must be real? If this story is real and someone reads this, then this surreal journey was beyond anything I could understand or explain.
By Joe McDonough5 years ago in Humans
Black Book Protocol
Only an hour has passed since my night shift ended. My mind keeps wandering back to the hospital. A distinct redolent of sanitizer lingers, despite the diner’s obtuse aroma of grease and coffee. As sleep deprivation creeps in, all I can think about is how much death and trauma this terrible pandemic is causing. What seems like seconds ago, I was scrambling to save another elderly patient from the virus. The look on her face still fresh, tears of fear pooling as I watched the life fade from her eyes. Masked strangers, a cacophony of panicked alarms and the rhythmic mechanical hissing of the ventilator were the last things she experienced. As I escape the memory and slip back to the present, I find myself staring down at a cold plate of runny eggs and damp toast.
By Matti Lake5 years ago in Humans
A Fortune Signature
Ruthanne held back the urge to roll her eyes. This morning had another story time attached to it. Her grandmother was recounting the famous folklore of Montbrook Pier to her younger sister, Esmae. Ruthanne’s grandmother had a knack for telling her stories whenever they visited over the summer. Still, this one had to be the icing on the cake. A notebook that granted someone’s deepest desire?
By Tahira Voss5 years ago in Humans
Jumpstart
I’ve never been particularly wealthy. That isn’t to say that my family wasn’t well enough off to raise me and my siblings, but I can’t say there haven’t been times I’ve been left wanting for things. I worked my way through college, and though my loans will take approximately 40 years to completely pay off, I’m not that financially strapped.
By Lonnie Hom5 years ago in Humans
His 5 Star Women
Caro James stepped out of her hotel in downtown Ho Chi Minh City and was enveloped in heat and humidity. It is July 4, 1996, the 220th birthday of the United States and the 20th anniversary of the worst day of Caro's life. She finds herself pondering the path her life has taken over the last six months that landed her in the one country she swore she would never visit. She pictures her brother Will arriving here as an 18 year old who had only been out of Vermont a handful of times before he enlisted in 1967 and had never been on a plane until he flew here. He was four years older than she was, as he was learning to be a soldier she was starting high school. It was obvious to anyone who met them that they were brother and sister, both had tall, slender builds and dark brown hair. Their faces were anchored by high cheekbones and warm brown eyes. As a child she looked up to him and they had grown closer as they corresponded while he was "in country". She kept him up to date about their hometown and he gave he advice on navigating high school.
By Susan Mills5 years ago in Humans
The Little Black Notebook & Answered Prayers
Dark foreboding clouds circled the tops of the buildings. It was mid-day, Monday, October 21, 1929. Strolling on the sidewall on Wall Street, a man smashed into Tillman whose concentration was occupied by city sounds and towering buildings. Crash! His suitcase slammed to the ground; its contents scattered all over the sidewalk. Quickly he grabbed his belongings and closed the suitcase. His dated suit screamed tourist, the sheepish look on his youthful face revealed he lacked street smarts.
By Samantha Bates5 years ago in Humans
The Little Black Book
Ordinary. That’s all he was, just an ordinary man in an ordinary life. He was called Edgar, he had an average salary derived from simple, mundane, tedious employment. His limited clock of existence slowly but surely tick tocking towards the inevitable darkness of his death. Of his forgotten life, should I say. Of course, who am I to judge? I am merely adhering to rules of everyday life too. I am merely but a brick, a fragment of this construction, this conceit that we call ‘society.’
By Adam Newman5 years ago in Humans
The Witch Next Door
It was not a good day for a summer storm. Penelope Reed watched through the blinds of her kitchen window as movers began to unload furniture from a beat-up truck parked in the driveway next door. An unfortunate pleather sofa followed a pair of lamps and a behemoth of a secretary desk. From a rusted station wagon came a black umbrella, masking the presence of the new homeowner of 1692 Cherrywood Lane.
By Jillian Spiridon5 years ago in Humans








