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.'
When I Came to My New Home - I Found Myself on the Night of June 22nd Like a Full Moon and a Half Sun
I still remember the moment I turned the key to my new home. It was a strange feeling—excitement and fear woven together like threads in an old tapestry. The house was centuries old, perched on the edge of a quiet forest, with ivy climbing the weathered stone walls and windows that looked out on nothing but shadows. I had bought it in a hurry, desperate for a change after a messy breakup and a job loss. It was supposed to be a fresh start.
By Echoes of Lifeabout a year ago in Families
Things My Grandmother Buried
I found the map on the back of a pie recipe. It was tucked between yellowed pages in Grandma's old recipe binder, hidden in plain sight under Blackberry Cobbler – 1963. The map was drawn in blue ink, shaky with age, but deliberate. There were seven small Xs, each marked with a label: Hope, Pride, Grief, First Love, Regret, Truth, and Freedom.
By Salah Uddinabout a year ago in Families
How to Boost Your Immune System Naturally
Your immune system is your body’s defense against germs, viruses, and infections. A strong immune system helps you stay healthy and fight off sickness. The good news is that you can improve your immunity naturally with simple lifestyle changes.
By MUHAMMAD Abbasabout a year ago in Families
Before They Were My Parents
For eighteen years, my parents were not people. They were forces. Unwavering pillars of responsibility, the architects of my childhood, the providers of every need before I even knew I had it. They were the sun and moon in my small universe, their movements predictable, their roles absolute. Mom was the gentle hand that bandaged scraped knees and baked cookies that smelled of warmth and home. Dad was the steady voice that guided me through math problems and the silent strength that fixed anything that was broken, from a leaky faucet to my shattered confidence after a Little League strikeout. They were simply… Mom and Dad. Two halves of a perfect, impenetrable whole.
By Kaleem Ullahabout a year ago in Families
I Was Missing for 13 Minutes. But to Me, It Was 13 Years.
I was 27 years old when I vanished. Not into thin air. Not into the woods. I was in my living room. One minute I was plugging in my phone. The next, I was waking up on the floor. The clock said 2:13 p.m. My call history showed my last outgoing call had ended at 2:00 p.m. I’d been gone 13 minutes. But I remembered everything that happened in between. Because for me, it was 13 years. --- It started with a sound—like thunder underwater. Then everything went white. I remember floating, but not in space. It felt like I was drifting through someone else’s thoughts. Then came the voices. Soft. Alien. Mechanical. They weren’t talking to me. They were talking about me. Like scientists observing a failed experiment. > “Subject unstable. Still anchored to original time axis.” > “Initiate acceleration protocol.” My body didn’t move. But my mind snapped forward like it was being pulled. --- I lived a full life. I remember waking in a strange town. It was always dusk. Always quiet. There were others there too. Hundreds of us. We didn’t age. We didn’t eat. We just… existed. Most had accepted it. They didn’t talk about where they came from. Some didn’t even remember their own names. I did. Because I refused to forget. I searched every day for a way out. For years. I counted every second. I found a woman. Ellie. She remembered too. We shared stories. Held onto sanity together. We fell in love. We planned a life we might never have. Then, one day, she was gone. No trace. No goodbye. I screamed so loud the sky cracked. And that’s when they took me back. --- Waking up in my living room felt like being reborn into a dead body. Everything was off. The room looked the same but colder. The walls had this hum. I looked at my hands. Still young. But they shook like they’d lived lifetimes. I checked my phone. 13 minutes had passed. I aged 13 years. --- I tried to explain. My family didn’t believe me. Why would they? I knew things I shouldn’t. Predicted a stock market crash. Described scientific discoveries a year before they hit the news. Every night, I heard that underwater thunder. Sometimes I saw glimpses of Ellie—reflected in mirrors or behind closed doors. I wasn’t fully back. Part of me was still there. --- Doctors said it was a seizure. A hallucination. A psychological break. But trauma doesn’t teach you how to speak a language you never studied. Or remember names of stars newly discovered. Trauma doesn’t make you cry for someone who never existed—except in a world no one else remembers. --- So I began writing. Everything I could recall from the lost years. And as I wrote, more came back. Names. Numbers. Formulas. A pattern. A map. I believe it’s a roadmap to wherever I went. Or where they pulled me from. --- Last month, I received a postcard. It had no return address. Just one sentence: > "It’s still dusk here. Come home. —E" And now I hear the thunder again. Louder than ever. They’re coming. Or maybe… I am. --- Since the postcard arrived, time has been acting strange again. I lose seconds. Minutes. Entire conversations vanish from memory. My reflection is sometimes delayed—as if the world around me is buffering. I’ve set up cameras. Timers. Motion detectors. Every morning, I wake up five minutes earlier than I went to bed. Something is rewriting my nights. --- I’m not the only one. I’ve found forums. Shadowy message boards filled with people like me—who’ve lost time, aged without explanation, seen people no one else remembers. We call ourselves the Drifters. Some say it’s a quantum glitch. Others think we’re subjects in some multidimensional experiment. But I know the truth. We’ve been chosen. Or maybe… broken. --- Two days ago, I woke up with sand in my shoes. Not dirt. Beach sand. I haven’t been near the ocean in years. And worse… the sand matched exactly what I remember from the shoreline in that dusk-filled place. Smooth, cold, and oddly metallic. They’re testing the boundaries. Testing how long I’ll last before I go back on my own. --- I’ve started packing. Not because I’m scared. But because deep down… I want to return. Not for the mystery. But for Ellie. If there’s even a chance she’s still there… If she remembers me… Then maybe I’m not as lost as I feel. --- 🌀 Written by James World Where reality breaks, and memory becomes your only anchor.
By James World about a year ago in Families
Dubai Crown Prince's Unexpected Lesson: When True Leadership Means Serving Others
Picture this: You're enjoying a quiet lunch at an upscale restaurant when suddenly, the person at the next table stands up and announces they're paying for everyone's meal. Not just their table. Everyone's. The entire restaurant.
By Fathima Haniffaabout a year ago in Families
The River Took Them – A Tragedy in Swat That the World Must Not Forget
It was supposed to be a joyous trip. A family from Sialkot, Pakistan, packed their belongings, full of excitement for a journey to Swat — a place famous for its mountains, rivers, and the beauty that attracts thousands of tourists each year. It was a small vacation to breathe, to relax, to take a break from the daily grind of city life. None of them knew this trip would be their last.
By Qutbi Alam about a year ago in Families
How Your Pet Dog Gets to Know Your Kids- Amazing Tips
There’s something magical about the bond between kids and the family dog. A wagging tail, a wet nose against a small hand, and a patient, loyal nature all make a dog one of the best companions a child can have. But while some dogs love children instantly, others may need time and gentle guidance to adjust. As parents or guardians, it’s our responsibility to help our dog get used to children and create an environment where both are safe and happy.
By Echoes of Lifeabout a year ago in Families
The Man Who Returned Too Late. Content Warning.
He was young, handsome, and full of dreams. Born and raised in a peaceful village in Pakistan, Arif had always been different from other boys. While his friends were content playing cricket and helping in their family fields, Arif would often sit under the old banyan tree, sketching out fantasies of a life beyond the borders of his land.
By Qutbi Alam about a year ago in Families
The Family That Time Forgot But Love Remembered
in a small village where the river whispered to the wind and evenings fell gently like a soft sheet across the fields there was a modest home not rich in wealth but overflowing with love the kind of love that asked for nothing and gave everything
By Qutbi Alam about a year ago in Families
