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.

Influence
They say that it's who you know... Joshua Penderson knew no one really. I mean, he sometimes would be recognized by the local coffee girl, because he always got a black coffee in the morning and she found it fun to say "A cup of Joe for Joe!" and he got tired of correcting her. Joshua Penderson had moved into his little apartment in Washington heights a few months ago, after he had missed the admissions deadline in his local community college, and so with the money he had saved up to go to school, he thought at least he could move out of the house. His mom was dating a new guy and what with her working all day and being out all night his interactions with her were little notes saying "Dinner's in the Fridge" or "Order something". There wasn't much to stay for.
By Rosemary Doyle5 years ago in Humans
Summer day...
Dear lover, it was my breath you took away when we glanced at each other in the summer day, when the glimpse of the sun shone upon your beautiful pale skin, and light filled your hazelnut-coloured eyes. It was like the breeze slowly turned our faces in the same direction, and there, our stare was locked. When you approached me, there was not much I could do but to look down slightly, but at the same time, the sunny day permitted me to see that your shadow was slowly approaching my presence. You came and nodded your head, gesturing to the space beside me on the bench, without saying a word but smiling. My girly innocence, my timid smile, made me nod my head in a way that communicated yes, and though neither of us said a word, somehow we understood each other.
By Catia conceicao5 years ago in Humans
Berny's Lucky Day
Berny Scrimshaw was a careful gambler. He thoroughly studied the form of every horse to race on a Saturday to help him make the best decision possible. The autumn carnival was nearing its end and the days were getting shorter. The chill he felt as he left the betting shop on dusk, belied the joy he experienced as he had just won $21,054 on the last race of the day. The rough 45 to 1 horse, Round-The-Outside, had poked its nose in front right on the line to make his four-race quadrella pay the largest amount all season. True to its name, it had come around the outside from the final turn to match and overtake such brilliant horses as Hoof-Hearted, Puma-Pants and WhyKickAMooCow, all more highly chanced thoroughbreds. The jockey, Peter Vaquero, whooped with joy as he realised he had taken the honours after a photo finish decision. Berny walked home whistling his favourite tune, the Music Box Dancer.
By Chris Rosser5 years ago in Humans
SACRED WISDOM
Sacred Wisdom … - Pssst! Come closer. I can only tell you this if you are closer. These are the stories that we can only whisper.
By Nashane Lacroix5 years ago in Humans
The Incan Treasure
Christopher Wilkins sighed as he walked away from his class and towards the bus stop. He had been excited to take the new ancient languages course at NYU, but he failed the class after the last three tests. Chris thought about this as it began to rain. He ran for the bus stop, thankful that he had just enough time to catch the bus for the evening.
By Richard Brooks5 years ago in Humans
A Fever in the Desert
Not even a stiff glass of whiskey could calm Michael’s nerves tonight as he scowled at the damp black book on his desk – it was completely blank. The little black book belonging to Delilah. Or rather it used to belong to her. Michael took a large gulp of whiskey, reveling in the burn he felt down his throat and then in his chest. He longed for that burn or in fact any burn that would distract him from the grief of Delilah’s murder. His sweet, hauntingly beautiful Delilah – How could he live knowing he would never again hear her melodic laughter echoing through the halls of his large estate? Knowing he would never again feel the warmth of her touch or admire her witty parlance? Yes, he’d loved Delilah fiercely from the moment he saw her glide into the gentleman’s club. She’d met his gaze boldly, challenging him to look away even with his lavish title of Duke. After that night Michael cared little of his responsibility to marry a chaste lady of the ton and produce an heir to continue his Title, he cared not of the whispers and gossip surrounding him and he didn’t even care she had birthed a child to another man. Michael thought only of Delilah, completely bewitched by her and burned like a fever in the desert. A stormed raged outside the window of Michael’s study and yet the furious banging on the door still echoed thunderously down the hall. 'Who could that be?' Michael mumured displeased and glanced into the darkness outside, it must be the early hours of the morning he mused. Michael stormed past the servants who had heard the commotion and arisen to investigate, and threw the heavy doors open. A coachman stood in the entrance holding a basket, inside the basket a screaming infant lay, thrashing wildly. She was Delilah’s; she bore her flawless dark skin and fierce black eyes. Michael’s heart lurched painfully in his chest, the resemblance being so uncanny it pained him to gaze upon her. “Here” the coachman thrust Delilah’s little bundle into his arms, slapped a soggy letter on top and retreated back into the blackness of the storm. Michael hurriedly carried the child back to his study, set the basket down on his desk and carefully opened the letter. Delilah’s hand read: 'Michael – my love, if you’re reading this I can no longer care for my daughter Celeste. It is because I needed money for Celeste’s future, I desired for her to lead a life better than my tumultuous one. Celeste’s father is the Tsar, when I discovered I was with child I knew he would cast me away and so I stole his priceless matryoska dolls and sold them to the French court. If you’re reading this he has found me and likely disposed of me. I’ve hidden the money with Celeste; it is now please find someone to care for Celeste. I wish you and I might’ve had more time Michael. My endless love and admiration,
By Natasha Byrne5 years ago in Humans
Little black book
On the subway, two girls are sitting next to each other. They look very much alike, similar hair length and color, facial features, ways of holding their body.
By Thuya Wishes5 years ago in Humans
DAY 1
The night spoke of a new beginning, one in which the sun would rise to kiss a new year, and it would smile at its new lover, for things would be good, and it would shine even brighter. Well, maybe not so brighter, for it is already so hot here already. But when the ever-resplendent glow reflects through the crack of your window, when the spiralling warmth courses over your skin, you would know that it is time, and you would get up to work. The clergyman told me that I would be walking into unexpected open doors. I reach out for the first one, which is life into the first day, and I breathe and smile, for I have made it. The other doors are lined up, each without a door knob, for there is nowhere to place it. It is just a matter of little time. My faith does a little dance, and it whispers the beautiful words in my ears. Soon it would metamorphose from what it is already into a reality, and I can't wait. It told me of its excitement, and I shared it as well. Then the sacrificial lamb was taken to the slaughter house. I watched it as it struggled for its life as steel was put to its throat, and passed through it till the sharp flat came out at the back. Everyone laughed and was joyous. Murder, I think? Well, it cannot be classified as so, but I think it to be that anyways. I have a pain in my tooth. Father says it is wisdom teeth, a new one to be added to my ever-browning collection. I wondered why it had to be so painful, even to swallow my spittle hurt so much. Father said. "Learn from the mouth, for it speaks without words to tell you that positive growth is not without its pains." I am not sure I learned so much from that, except that it still hurt even after the painkillers, and I could only stare as they shared the sacrificial lamb amongst themselves; their teeth tearing at its flesh. Well, I didn't want it anyways, I didn't want to be a part of the murder, or did I? I'm very sure I didn't want to, but the spittle dropping from my mouth as I watched them didn't concur. Sadly, sometimes we aren't just in control.
By Malumi Adeboye5 years ago in Humans
Not on the Same Page Round 4
Getting back out there. Jumping back on the horse. Testing the waters can be a scary thing and also a weird thing. People can seem altogether there and then as you talk to them they start to drop subtle clues. Clues that there is a reason why they are on a dating site. Trust me I'm not judging because let's face it, I was one of those people who other people were saying that same statement about. I was the one with the 8 point profile that read like a sarcastic bitch list of what creates an asshole. Which is what prompted this nearly month-long exchange.
By Mia Lynn5 years ago in Humans
The Painting
It was 11PM and the soft sounds of people working were fading as I walked to the locker rooms to receive my belongings. I was bone tired, fingers and back sore from lifting boxes all day. I looked down at my hands, they were ashy and kind of dirty. 'I should wash my hands..,' I thought to myself. I walked over to a sink not too far from my locker and squeezed the highly scented soap into my hands, lathering up the soap and watching the murky water go down the drain. I got caught in a daze of thoughts, watching the water swirling down. I was tired of this job, the mundane day to day, each day being the same like I was on autopilot or a well oiled machine with only one purpose. The feeling encompassed me, making me feel almost overwhelmed with the idea that this is how I lived. I shook the feeling off, telling myself, "You'll be fine" and turned off the sink. I quickly put on my coat and grabbed my bag, just wanting to get home and get into my warm bed. As I stepped outside, the cold brisk wind slapped my entire body. It was colder than I had expected, further dimming my mood and increasing my eagerness to get home. I waited for the bus, the wind still hitting me and spinning around me. I was freezing and this bus was certainly delayed because it had been scheduled to arrive at 11:15 and it was already 11:35. I stood there angrily, feelings still building up like a kettle on an open flame. Just when I felt ready to call a cab, the bus pulled up at 11:50. "Hello there!," said the bus driver as he let me onto the warm bus. I grumbled a lowly hello, still upset he took so long. The driver stalled there a bit, waiting for others who got off at 12. A few people started walking towards and piling in. Faces of tiredness from a hard day of work at the warehouse. The bus pulled off and softly began to rock me to sleep. My eyes felt heavy and my head was bobbing up and down, trying to stay awake and alert of when my stop was coming. I shook my body just a little, trying to invoke a feeling of energy; that didn't seem to help though because soon after I was waking up on an empty bus. I jolted up scared that I missed my stop, frantically looking outside. I sighed in relief to see I was close to my stop but hadn't passed it. I grabbed my bag off the seat to prep to get off at the next stop. As I did this, I saw a little black book underneath the seat beside me. I don't know why but I felt compelled to pick it up, so I did. It seemingly was old, with a worn out, scuffed leather cover. I flipped through it to see it was empty, until I got to a middle page. Written on that page was an address. I flipped further to see if there was anything else within the book but there wasn't, just that address. My stop had come and I quickly darted off the bus, into the cold. Luckily my apartment was only a block away. I put my keys into the door and stepped inside of my warm apartment. It was quiet and dark, no one to greet me, just me. I flicked on the lights and took off my shoes, just ready to take a hot shower but the book in my hand intrigued me. What was this address? Why was that the only thing written? I further examined the book to see if there was anything else on or inside it. Nothing, nothing at all. I put the tiny black book inside the pocket to my coat and headed to the shower. After my shower I laid in bed, tossing and turning. I couldn't get this book off my mind for some reason. It was something so normal yet so odd. It was just exciting enough to add a difference into the stagnant life I was living. I soon drifted off, too tired to think about anything at all but the peace of sleep.
By Manu Noel5 years ago in Humans
Dear Sir
I did my research. I looked them all up. Searched online. Called in some favors. I know people who know shit and what they don’t know they have the right access to find. And it cost me nothing because I’m good to people. So, they all owe me from some long-ago generosity I graced upon them. A spare bedroom. Rent money. A borrowed car. An alibi.
By ANGELA WESLEY5 years ago in Humans
Painting in the Rain
The letter came when it was raining and I had been looking for my notebook for three days. I see the postman from my second-story bedroom window and jog down the stairs, hoping to grab the mail from him before he slides it into the swimming pool in the bottom of my letterbox. The new box, that didn’t have a rusted hole in the roof, was sitting in the garage, waiting for a sunny day that hadn’t come. Three months and it hadn’t stopped raining. I can’t even work. I had plans to use the basement as a studio but the foundations leak and water runs down the walls, making it feel like a mountain cave, complete with ambient dripping noises.
By Naomi Davidson5 years ago in Humans