fact or fiction
Is it a fact or is it merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores the lesser known truths in the corporate culture of Journal.
When you least expect it
Chapter 1 Today, lunch with David was unsettling to say the least. We have been meeting for lunch regularly for as far back as I can remember - well, at least since the publication of 'The Forgotten Children' in 2008 anyway. He said, “Aldrich, I dreamt of Fairbridge Farm last night .. again. Something you said that didn’t make sense. And I can’t quite put my finger on it.” The statement was followed by a good minute of silence. It felt like Remembrance Day and the lumps that popped up in the throat were visceral.
By Eddy Furlong 5 years ago in Journal
The Last Bookstore
Celeste knew that bookstores were dying. The world was online, and the bookstore was a leftover, like week-old turkey. Celeste liked that no one came into the bookstore. She liked that there was a job that involved sitting around reading all day. It was a pretty good gig for someone who had barely graduated high school last year. Celeste once looked into being a librarian, but it involved a lot of student loan debt. Better to work for this little shop, for as long as it lasted.
By Laura Todd5 years ago in Journal
Ultimate Gift
Leaving the office building, the girl took a long look back at it, and her dream, which seemed to be getting farther and farther. Another refusal. Another NO. It was the fifth time this month already, that her potential investors refused to fund her project. Emma could not understand why. How could they be so oblivious and not see all the possibilities, that come with her idea? And she didn’t ask for that much, to be honest, only 20 grand. No job, no money, but full of ambition. Just like her dad. Speak of the devil. The phone rang.
By Teresa Ulianytska5 years ago in Journal
Little Black Book
Keep writing. Those two words bounced around in my head all day. Today was my last day at a job I absolutely hated. I endured five long years at a company that had passed over me twice for a promotion I clearly deserved. I was the last female left in my department and the lack of estrogen at work at taken its toll on me. As an adult, there are these irritating things called bills that you have to pay to provide shelter and warmth for yourself. You also have to eat…to stay alive. So, I as much as hated the grueling weeks at Growth Interface Designs (GID), I enjoyed eating and staying alive much more. Plus, I had written a few short stories that I felt had real potential to be published as books. I was tired of not fulfilling my creative desires and not chasing my true passion as a writer.
By Allanah Dobson5 years ago in Journal
The Wrong Foot
I felt dirty as I walked out of the job interview. Did I just get played? The answers they wanted were clearly written all over their faces, so I gave them exactly what they were looking for. If they knew I was full of shit they didn't seem to mind. They hired me on the spot. Why did I accept? This job seems horrible. But the pay is better than I'd get anywhere else.
By Sarah Rosanna Busch5 years ago in Journal
The Little Black Book
Hana plopped down into an empty seat on the metro and settled her bag onto her lap. Despite being only mid-afternoon, her day was almost done. She’d gone into work early to help with stocking and inventory. Now all she had to do was take the red line all the way down to Brookland and then there’d be a bit of a walk for her to get to her tiny apartment near Catholic U. She had come to D.C. to be a student at there. Unfortunately, to afford school, she’d had to work herself to exhaustion, and her grades suffered. She had to drop out.
By Jaime McCauley5 years ago in Journal
The Secret Invitation
A brisk autumn wind whisked up a miniature tornado of fallen leaves as Alexis pulled into her community nature preserve. She brought her aging powder blue beater to a reluctant halt with a crunch of gravel and groan of rusted metal. She thought to herself that those little tornados had always been one of her favorite parts of the season, and must be a fortuitous omen for the day ahead. Gathering up her impromptu portable gardening tool kit with a renewed sense of purpose, she headed out into the park for today's illicit horticultural mission.
By Andrea Anzalone5 years ago in Journal
