fact or fiction
Is it fact or merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores the myths and beliefs we hold about our family dynamics, traditions, and if there's such thing as a 'perfect family.'
The Chest from Milan
The um... ...the news about Nonno’s passing didn’t make... as big of a commotion in the family as I thought it would... and... I know that the last year hasn’t been easy for any of us right now, so I'm sorry ahead of time... but I expected more from us.
By Luigi Alvarez6 years ago in Families
The Secret
Samiya Ruiz sat on the steps of her run down row home, a cigarette in hand contemplating on what her next move would be. She was anxious, stressed out was an understatement. Looking towards the cloudy sky that was above her asking the universe to make a way. Noise was all around her. People walking up and down her block buying drugs from the drug dealers on the corner. Cars with loud music zooming down the street. She could barely get her thoughts together. But the distractions were nothing compared to the financial hardships she was facing. She was out of work, couldn’t find a job due to the Covid 19 pandemic and living off of her disabled son’s social security check. The rent was due soon, the utility bills were piling up, and she stressed that she wouldn’t have enough. Something was going to get cut off.
By Samantha Rodriguez6 years ago in Families
Anything but, "The Notebook"
Anything But, “The Notebook.” By, Not a Fatalist It was 1946. The sun was shining and my toe felt the radiance. The passage of time was long since my feet had seen a Summer. My eyes looked dreary. But inside, I knew there was a tiny glow. Like when a campfire goes out. Everyone else is asleep and doesn’t notice. You do though, you wait and watch, and take little wagers on which ember will endure the last flame before transforming into smoke. Perhaps, I am the only one that wants to know? But this ember, it would never turn to ash. It was getting brighter. As I looked up, I thought perhaps my pupils are very tiny, and there was nothing but blue. As soon as I noticed, a cloud appeared. “You would, G-d.” And I laughed. I wouldn’t say it was a deep breath. It felt like the front of my mid-section was vertical strings and a new kind of soft thick air, product unknown, was holding them upright. But still, it was a breath. I was alive. I am still, alive.
By Ariel Baker6 years ago in Families
The Bucket List
The small notebook wasn’t much to look at. Leather-bound, black, small enough to slide in my pocket...and old. The leather was dried and cracked, the pages inside yellowed. If it weren’t for the words written inside, I would have tossed in in the trash along with the rest of the junk I was cleaning out of my grandparent’s attic.
By Jennifer Renae Allen6 years ago in Families
The roger's family
The Roger’s family had a business that went from small to franchise. It doesn’t matter for them how long it took but how hard they were working for. Maybe they got help by some of their friends from college, at the end they got there. Anyway looking at the time and the way they got there, you think maybe there’s a mystery around because it’s hard to believe that a business goes from being just a business into a Franchise. Some of their family members didn’t think so, they were arguing about making it happen and it was like a dream that ends in a dream to them.
By Ermi messi6 years ago in Families
FOR REASONS BEYOND CONTROL
I thought at first when I was small. Those adults always seemed to speak loudly and because they were taller, they appeared larger than life, intimidating, vicious and relentless. I soon realized calling them that was giving them too much credit. Their boisterous and overbearing attitude is a way to conceal cowardice. When confronted, they scare easily and like rats scurrying back into the gutters. They do not deserve being held in such high esteem, because such attribute is far beyond their limited capabilities and will power, something they could never achieve and do not even know exists. They remain indifferent; weaklings who excuse their narrow-mindedness with words of serenity and logic to explain the inability for wanting more and expecting more. Conformism is always excused as the will of a god and hardships are always caused by the government. They deceive themselves into believing in a reward afterwards, peace and contentment that will be placed at their feet by some deity, something that they know it is not true. Otherwise, they would be happy and always content with the crumbs they possess and must survive with. They know deep in their hearts they are barely surviving and rejoicing for nothing, only enjoying brief moments of glee that soon are overshadowed by a harsh reality of needing and wanting. They feel oppressed by those small abodes they occupy, continuing to add inhabitants because they cannot control themselves and see their already small portions being reduced by yet another mouth. They cannot breathe; too many lungs seek the precious oxygen from a space already crowded. Movement is hindered by overcrowding. They cannot stretch, condemned to a packed space where they cannot express what they feel, for voicing such words would take away the space they detest but cannot escape. They cannot say what they feel, and if they think it, they do not reveal it, for such utterances may cause great grief. Religion is used as an excuse for remaining in an unsatisfactory status quo — the foundation for all religions, otherwise how could nature maintain its evolutionary perfection?
By Pedro A. Idarraga6 years ago in Families
Footprints in the Snow
It's cold tonight, and quiet. Nothing but the ticking of the clock on the wall. The old familiar melody of time. Monotonous in it's arrangement, yet a tune I've come to know well. It snowed about two inches today. On top of the snow we had earlier this week, it will be quite the feat if Jennie gets here tomorrow. It's been a long winter...or has it? I suppose here's where I intereject that for the last two years I've had, what my family has insisted, is the onset of Alzheimers. If it weren't for my journaling I'd be reliant on others telling me what's going on. And even still, I find myself starting a new page, in the middle of a thought, when it's as if the ink has left my pen. It takes me a while to remember to even return to the previous page to collect my story. But right now, I'm having a moment of clarity. I feel somewhat my old self tonight. It's a shame I have no one to share it with but this old dusty journal.
By Leah Nicole Yoder6 years ago in Families
The Mouse and the Barn Owl
Carrie was sick of the snow. Two days of shivering and nearly starving were plenty. Had she not skillfully removed the cheese wedge from the mouse trap, she would have starved. She could tell by the cramps and pains that labor was close at hand. To add to her misery, a barn owl had made its way into the barn.
By Jim Clevenger6 years ago in Families
