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.
The Man She Met
There was a woman who had a hard life. She had been through so much in only a short life she lived thus far. She had horrible parents and her first husband was a nightmare. She had to work very hard to get to where she was in life. Which honestly was nowhere. She had a dead-end job and bills piling up and no social life. She worked to pay a debt that seemed like would never be resolved. One day she met a man who was charming and kind. They went on a date and she thought they hit it off. They laughed, drank, ate, told each other their life stories, and really got along. Then there was a sinking thought that maybe this was too good to be true. She started to go over their date in her head and twisted the night so bad in her mind she started to doubt any of the great things even happened. She started to cry realizing she had failed at yet another thing in her life.
By Katie Brown5 years ago in Humans
The Soul System
Tomorrow is the day... the truth about humans will be revealed... The day we hoped would never come, all our plans have failed...We all knew, nothing would ever work, but we tried anyway. Fools...All world Governments representatives are here in Antarctica, the World will change forever in the next few hours...
By Jane Kumada5 years ago in Humans
The Place We Knew
She walked and walked as her feet gathered more and more dust, her flip flops worn out, back feet cracked, and cackle brown. She had no destination in mind, but as she became more and more surrounded by unfamiliar land stretched out, she was soon aware of her exhaustion, of the dryness in her tongue as her throat threatened to seize altogether. She knew she had to find a place to rest soon, kind people to accommodate her at least for the night. How was this possible? She had only been walking for a few minutes, maybe hours. She had hoped the people she imagined on the other side of her commune existed. So far, she was greeted by deserted lands and abandoned homes that were once someone’s. She continued her journey east or west, north or south. She did not know the difference. At first, the clouds shaped like characters someone forgot to finish painting seemed to dance in the right direction, which she had been following. Now the faces in the sky were mocking her, perhaps for not having a plan. She made out their features by tracing them with her fingers. They reminded her of sleeping infants. The clouds changed their position, pointing the wrong way, resigning, she turned around and began walking in that direction.
By Kíkélómómí5 years ago in Humans
Archibald Lindsey's Study of Women
Art Imitates Life: An introduction I remember as a child going to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina with Mom and Dad to see the ocean for the first time in my life. It was amazing. I’ll never forget topping that last hill and staring in awe at water that disappeared past the edge of the earth.
By The Bantering Welshman5 years ago in Humans
Noise
“No time. No time. I must run. I have to get away.” I kept telling myself that until I fell silent to the ground. “I can’t stop now,” I told myself. I was nearly in tears as I forced myself to my knees. The sand was hot from the day’s sun. A few rocks stuck to me as I got up. I brushed them off and winced from the pain. Looking around, I became less panicked, nothing. The sand, the weeds, the rocks, the sun in the sky, were all I saw. I stopped moving to listen. I held my breath out of the fear I would mistake it for another. Nothing is louder than the sound of air moving slowly in the nothingness of time. My anxiety grew. I had to keep moving. I let the breath out in an exasperated wheeze. I coughed and hacked till I saw stars. I think I could make out constellations; I was so lightheaded. Another stop I could not afford. I put my head between my legs until my breathing slowed, sound.
By Kitty Fermengs5 years ago in Humans
Hippie Chick
Maybe it was the Jameson. Maybe it was the mischievous spark in her eye. Maybe the combination of the two was just enough to impair my decision-making faculties that night. Either way I couldn’t stop wondering what she was scratching in that little black notebook with the stub of a pencil that had been chewed beyond recognition on one end. It was definitely the Jameson that gave me the courage to ask her about it. Hippie chicks weren’t normally my thing, but she was something else. I sauntered over with my wing man in tow, true military style. I hadn’t been back from my last deployment for long and it was good to be back stateside, where I was fairly confident she’d at least speak english.
By Liv Stecker5 years ago in Humans
