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.
Compensation
Compensation. That’s what they’d called it. He’d thought of a thousand other overly dramatic and bitter names for what they had offered him. ‘Blood money’ was his favourite, and there was a wince anytime from others anytime he used the phrase. People did love to use empty platitudes and words of consolation whenever a tragedy occurred, but never did have anything to say if you responded with anything other than a quiet, dignified acceptance.
By Alexei Dettman5 years ago in Humans
Silver Coins in the Sky
Growth buds are tear dropped-shaped bits where new growth occurs on a tree. I don’t think it is a coincidence that they are shaped as tears, as our greatest growth is often the result of our deepest sorrows. On occasion, we find unexpected surprises in the growth of trees that provides perspective for our most challenging moments.
By Rick Adventure 5 years ago in Humans
In the Eye of the Beholder
In a small corner of her apartment in East Hampton Martha had given birth to a masterpiece. The colours were vivid, the composition flawless, the light so believable, it was almost like magic. Martha couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten something, so lost was she in the process of creating this little wonder of tender brushstrokes and smudges. She knew, this was the piece that would open the doors into worldwide art recognition for her. Undying praise from a community so competitive, not even the hardiest stockbroker would stay sane for long. Martha's hands sweated excitement just from thinking about the coming evening. She remembered every mark she had put on the canvas in the last few weeks - or was it months? - it was like breathing life into empty space. Space that was now filled for all eternity.
By Zora Kastner5 years ago in Humans
Lucky Orleans
“Kristy! What the hell are you doing?” I yell as she rummages through my dresser and throws my clothes into a suitcase. She looks up and smirks, “We’re finally leaving this place!” I laugh hysterically, “You realize I have a job and responsibilities right?” I watch as Kristy closes the suitcase and grabs a duffle bag. Moving to a different drawer, she looks up, “So? This is everything we’ve dreamed about. We can finally move to Italy!” I’m so confused right now! How can we just pack up and leave? As if reading my mind, she throws a little black book on the bed.
By Susie Gunderson5 years ago in Humans
The Journal
Your hands ran across the sturdy wooden shelves of your local bookshop as you wandered down the aisles. You’d been searching for a book to fill the hole in your heart left by the last one you had devoured in one sitting. As the shelves ran out of possible books and you neared the darkest corner of the shop, your fingers slipped over a dilapidated little black book. The worn exterior caught your attention, having felt so many smooth titled spines throughout the selection. All of your attention homed in on reading the cover of this small book. But no title was to be seen on its cover, spine, or back. Interest peaked at the tip of your nose as you flipped open to what should be home to a title page. There on the first page, perfect swirls of the letters M.A.P. rested beneath the words “This Book Belongs To”. Your brain ran through its traffic of thoughts in attempt to figure out what type of book would belong to someone. As guilt quickly pops in, you close the journal and hesitate for a moment with it still resting in your hands. You look for a barcode and hope to discover a price; something to indicate that it is safe for you to read. As you turned it over your eyes fell upon the edges of the book, where “Read Me” was sprawled into the fore edges. With curiosity holding you by your tongue, you traipse up to the register to leave your decision in the hands of the shopkeeper. The old man had been peering out the window at the grey clouds in the sky when you pulled him from his ponderings. You gently set the little black book on the counter and asked if he knew the price. He shook his head and said it must have been a book someone left behind. He offered that you could keep it, though he didn’t understand why you would want to. So, with a goodbye, you left the bookshop with your eyes intent on discovering the owner of the forgotten journal.
By Forest Evergreen5 years ago in Humans
Jupiter's Day
Meredith set her bags down on the bench in front of the bus stand and began rummaging through her purse. Normally she would walk, however today she had stopped at the market and both she and the perishables she had purchased would appreciate the reprieve from the sun’s scorching rays.
By Lisa Richardson5 years ago in Humans
