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.
Cappuccino, Two Sugars
The cursor blinks at me like a silent alarm. It mocks me. Are you going to write something? I squint at it, hoping it will write a completed chapter- edited and all. It doesn’t. Instead the screen of my old laptop fades to black due to inactivity. I curtly tap the touchpad. The expectant blinker continues its judgement.
By Brittany Riley5 years ago in Humans
THE WHITE EMPRESS
She lived in a castle that looked like ice. . The walls were seven feet thick, white stone, which reflected the sun. The two towers were five floors each, one was for the servants, the other she occupied. They were joined by a hall-way which had three massive fire places, all three were kept raging all of the time. The courtyard was the widest of circles, with walls which had arrow slits, just wide enough for her to look through, but too small for any-one to look in.
By Ruth Elizabeth Stiff5 years ago in Humans
It was fate
It was late on a hot July evening. Kassie was the bartender at the all night diner over on highway 2. She had been working there for 5 years and had never met the owner. He was an elusive figure whom no employee ever really saw. She occasionally worked alone as not many people drove down highway 2 anymore. The sun was setting and the soft country breeze came in through the open shutters. She was about to sit down to have her break when he walked around the corner. Dressed in a working mans uniform; hard helmet, carhart pants and a torn t-shirt, Kassie felt time stand still. She always had a twinkle in her eye but tonight it was extra bright. Kassie always treated every customer as if they were a guest in her home, but this gentlemen got some extra attention from her that night. He looked at her with a matching twinkle in his eye as they both felt their souls connect.
By Kelsey Dunn5 years ago in Humans
Story of 3
How long you've been there, looking at me as wanting to beg for a final destination. I do not remember the day, it was seven early during the day, as it was usual my departure from home to my working day, a half-sour coffee helped me to wake up in full, I served something that I had the night before, there was no time to prepare a better breakfast, after a few drinks, I still did not have the strength to start the day.
By leo c. morales5 years ago in Humans
Carpet Plots
Those unsure of the official commencement of the lunch hour at Sam's diner could always rely on Brian Nickels to mark the beginning of the lunch hour. The waiting staff saw Brian as a patron whose daily attendance rivaled the post office in punctuality and consistency. Its design resembled a traditional diner. A row chairs at the counter allowed patrons to see the diner's cooks feverishly working to keep up with the pace of orders that the wait staff wrote up and placed a revolving order stand. Brian admired the stamina of the diner's cooks. He noted how they effortlessly transitioned from the morning breakfast to lunch and dinner menu. Omelets on the grill became transformed into well-done burgers or pasta dishes. Out of deference to the cooks, Brian had chosen a booth in which to eat his meal. Aware of his tendency to engage in impromptu conversations with strangers, Brian had too much respect for the cooks to risk interrupting the work of the two Hispanic cooks who labored at the grill. He was determined not to re-experience the mortification he had felt when he had earned that a favorite server no longer worked at the dinner—fired for spending to much time talking with his customers. That's what Brian had overheard. He remembered hearing it from one of the busboys who thought he had whispered it softly enough to be only heard by the line cook who was working that day. But the busboys had not compensated for Brian's acute hearing. Those at the diner accepted him as Brian, the law student. Unlike his college acquaintances, his friends had bestowed a nickname that reflected their respect and fondness for him. Over time they had started to call him Brian Perry Mason. An attractive waitress with a penchant for nicknames had assigned the name of the fictional lawyer to Brian on a pleasant Sunday afternoon. The warmth of her tone in bestowing his new moniker had carried none of the vindictiveness he heard when his classmates addressed him. The top that he left that day conveyed how much he appreciated his new nickname. From that day on, he saw himself not as a lawyer, student, but as a diner patron who happened to study. His devotion would become evident in ways that were both subtle and overt. To bolster the diner's income, he gave up eating at the school cafeteria. Meetings with school advisors now took place at the dinner. Subtle changes in his curriculum choices indicated his psychological commitment to the diner. Where environmental law had once been his central focus, the vagaries of contract law and its application in settling small business suits now became his focus. The more he engrossed himself in the life of his favorite diner, the happier Brian became. Changes in Brian's mood did not go unnoticed. His peers at the law school noted with frustration that the hurling of demeaning nicknames no longer had the effect of debilitating Brian. During heated classroom debates, his breathing was even and relaxed. Should doubts arise, he would merely focus on the image of his beloved diner, and like a finely French onion soup would melt away.
By frederick Hurst5 years ago in Humans
The Waiting Room
You sat there in that diner, waiting. Waiting and waiting for someone that would never come. Deep down you knew it was the end, but you couldn't help but hold onto a wisp hope. Every time that little bell tingled above the door, you couldnt help but lift your head to check, the flicker of hope in your eye diminishing when it wasnt her. The wisp growing just a little bit thinner. The clock ticked from day to night, from night to morning. Around and around it spun in that diner. It was full of lost lovers waiting, you could smell it in the air. You supposed that's why they called it The Waiting Room diner.
By Kate Addison5 years ago in Humans
Lucy
It was a winter night, the cold ran through the streets and the faces of the few people who that day roamed with smiles or sadness, who will know, I took my phone and the time was 6:00 pm, it was our appointment, pressing the step I ran to that place where several times our smiles sprouted in the count of the gossip work, it would be nothing different, at least I did not think so.
By leo c. morales5 years ago in Humans
The Boathouse
Here I am reluctantly sat in the boathouse, a place I am to shortly learn to be a space of self-discovery. As I watch the people that came into the boathouse to spend time with each other, they are all smoking and drinking, and perhaps smoking something that is other than tobacco as a sweet almost intoxicating smell wafts across my nostrils. Being a non-smoker I find the clouds of smoke as they billow and wisp across my senses a little nauseating at times and I wonder why on earth I let my friend drag me here.
By Susie Antara James 5 years ago in Humans
Was This a Personality Mismatch or Something Much Darker?
At The Beginning I have a very close friend. Her name is Amy. She moved into a condo apartment in the fall of 2019. This condo is in the York region of Southern Ontario. She moved into an apartment already occupied by a lady. This lady was older than her, say by 10 years or more.
By Nkeonye Judith IZUKA6 years ago in Humans
Not Always as it Appears
We left the club at 2 a.m. to gather at our regular diner stop to sober up before going home. Sitting in the corner booth, I was able to see everyone coming and going. Plates were clinking from the kitchen as the cook prepared early morning dishes to pass out to the few night owls that were hanging out. It was quiet in the diner. A man sat at the counter drinking coffee and he seemed to be keeping an eye on his watch. Groups of 3 or 4 were scattered at tables looking over menus and laughing about the evening they had just enjoyed. I decided to indulge on a tuna melt and steak fries. My friends had their minds set on breakfast. The only waitress on duty approached the table and gathered our orders. We were regular once a week visitors, so she brought us our usual coffee and let us know that she would return with our orders shortly. Quiet music could be heard throughout the diner. Low ambient lighting lit the tables and counter. A low humming of conversation took place among the few patrons that were paying their respects at 2 a.m. The diner was the place to hang out and get right before calling it a night.
By Heather Cash6 years ago in Humans
The Tale of the Nasty Lady
Anita Hagtert Muzik was born in Haiti were she was known as a cruel girl. At age 15 she managed to reach the shores of the United States and was granted asylum. She grew to be a short five feet three inches and generally wore her hair in a ponytail. She had a habit of twisting her hair when she was angry or nervous. Although she was short she was obese and developed a toady appearance. Just try to image someone with a body of a toad, no neck and fat face. She had deep blue eyes, black skin and medium length black hair. While in school she would accuse boys of staring at her or being interested in her. One boy in particular Michael Bumblehurst was her favorite target. While he had to sit next to her, she would sniff him and complain he stunk and laughed at how he dressed. Michael was always nice to everyone and generally ignored Anita, who he would call The Sea Bitch. Michael would look out the window in his English class and did not realize that Anita was sitting next to it. Anita would then complain of Michael starring at her and bothering her. The female teacher, name Ms. Huit, fell for Anita’s tricks and told Michael to leave her alone. Ms. Huit was a short lady, and had pig-like features and a scowl that would make you think of a pig when she got angry. She tended to side with the females as one might expect from a sexist. “You should not be messing with that poor girl Muzik, she is bigger than you,” she said to Mike while he tried to retrain himself from laughing at her. Mike always thought of Muzik as looking a lot like a toad. Michael eventually became a wealthy doctor while Anita’s life went nowhere. Ms. Huit died lonely and bitter. Of course our story is not about Michael or Ms. Huit but Anita.
By Ferrari King6 years ago in Humans
