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 Heartbeat Log
Sarah stared down at the little black book, stolen from her boss's desk in a spur of the moment bout of desperation. A heartbeat log, a prime possession of the Heartbeat Cartel that prowled New York City. The King of the City, her boss, would kill her for stealing it. Not that she had anything left to lose.
By Jennifer Jackson Anderson5 years ago in Humans
The Ecstasy of Gold
I was in a bar one night when this guy sat at my table and asked me if I minded. I had been stood up earlier that evening – thirty years later I ran into the lady in a bar and mentally high-fived my then twenty-year-old self – and was dying for human company, so I said I didn’t mind. Right away you could tell two things about him – he liked his drink and he was a compulsive talker, albeit not without a certain charm. In any case, who would you rather listen to over a drink – an insurance broker or a wino?
By Victor Makourin5 years ago in Humans
The Last Cardinal
The tour had been quite boring. Quin had only gone because Stevie was such a big fan. But Stevie was gone; the long line and dull drone of the guide could serve no purpose but a flash of nostalgia. It didn’t even manage that, despite the phrases that seemed to be lifted directly from Stevie’s ramblings. Maybe all fans talked that way. Quin still couldn’t see what it was in this author’s writing that was so interesting. A bunch of mid-20th century conspiracy theories with some superficial romance and cliché action. Quin felt the rest of the land around the cabin, which was at least alive and changing, full of grass and trees and birds and squirrels, to be much more compelling. This is what she told herself, anyway, despite not being an outdoorsy person at all. But that spirit of adventure, mystery, and intrigue that had so richly emanated from Stevie’s aura was, perhaps, what brought Quin to the one-room museum now dedicated to the Author, Stevie’s favorite.
By Scott C Lillard5 years ago in Humans
Destination Waffle House
I’ve been a waitress at The Waffle House at the 325 Savannah Highway location in Charleston, South Carolina, for a little over ten years. I took this job after my son Danny was born because they work around my schedule. I need flexibility as a single mom. Sure, there are other jobs, but I stay loyal to the WH. It’s grown on me. My boss. The co-workers. The customers. The food. The tips are rather good too.
By Cathy Torres5 years ago in Humans
THE LITTLE BLACK NOTEBOOK
THE LITTLE BLACK NOTEBOOK BY ANA-MARIA MANOILA (London, 01/03/2021) The dawn light creeped in, animals were waking up, the smell of fresh morning rain was embalming my soul, birds were singing, a random owl was still flying around owling her heart out. I was 6 at the time, the year was 1916, a few months into the Russian occupation of my hometown, I was getting ready at 3 am to go with my father to bring the few cattle left to the fields. We always started early in the morning, as by lunch time the heat was unbearable. Russian soldiers were living at the time in our home, and we were allowed to sleep only in a small bedroom, all 5 of us: myself, my two brothers, mom and dad.
By Ana Manoila5 years ago in Humans
Take the Pill
Do you ever wake with paresthesia? If it’s in the leg, and there’s an urgent urinary matter, you’re likely dreading the twenty hops and hobbles to the bathroom without all of you collapsing from the pressure—all the worse if you experience “pins and needles” as your leg nerves “awaken”.
By Laura K Zielinski5 years ago in Humans
A Room Full of Demons
A Room Full of Demons by Mark Carpan Rebecca Griffen sat quietly at the small kitchen table in her Chicago apartment. She had poured herself a cup of hot tea to help calm her nerves. Her wrinkled hands shook as she brought the steaming cup to her lips. Looking down, she examined the numerous age spots that peppered her hands. The large blue veins that rose up from her skin and the exaggerated, protruding knuckles reminded her of why this day had come. She pulled her sleeves down over her wrists. There was a bit of a chill in the air this morning. In the background was the constant, soothing ticking of her mantle clock.
By Mark Carpan5 years ago in Humans
Persephone
The turtle ponderously makes its way thru the forest, one leg after another, one everlasting step at a time. Overhead, the clouds roll across the partially hidden sky, obscured by the semi-dense canopy of oak, hickory, and pine. The branches of such blown by melancholy notes of a subtle, cool wind. In this moment’s breeze, one might ask, is this some ordinary turtle on some ordinary journey? Suffice to note, and suffice to say, this is no ordinary turtle. Perhaps this turtle comes from a long line of wise and noble turtles, some might even say handsome or beautiful turtles, as turtles fashion-wise may go. But we are not here to judge these qualities of this turtle or its kin, however, we, a select few, have been given a glimpse into this turtle’s happenings, its wonderings… for a time upon a time and again. Why, you may ask? Why indeed?
By Michael Root5 years ago in Humans
