All Fiction Novels & Stories

“Of course not. It’s just a house . . . my house, as you said.” “I can’t believe it. You’re Mr. Horror, and you don’t believe in ghosts? How is that even possible?” “Okay, Bias, I’m going to blow your mind with one hell of a revelation about writers and their stories. I’m pretty sure Lewis Carroll never fell down a rabbit hole into a magical Wonderland; it doesn’t seem likely that Anne Rice believes in vampires; and I highly doubt J.K. Rowling has met any real wizards. That’s what makes it fiction and not nonfiction.”

I was once again forced to speak to the man who broke my heart into a million pieces… I stopped writing and frowned at my words. I shook my head and deleted it. I don’t want to write yet another post about Brian. I thought about something Joseph had said on the first day of class and I started to grow inspired. Trying again I wrote: What is fiction? What defines fiction? Does it count as fiction if you’ve never seen something? Just because you’ve never seen a unicorn, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. It just means you’ve never seen it. The idea that there could be otherworldly creatures living amongst us is crazy to me because it’s always seemed like such fiction. But as I grow older, and I ex

It’s all or nothing. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental.

Sophia spread my thighs with strong hands and buried her face in me. Her tongue was heaven. Flat and broad at first, licking long stripes from my dripping entrance to my swollen clit. I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle my cry. Upstairs, Uncle Mike was telling the same football story he told every year; down here, Sophia was devouring my cunt like it was the main course. She sucked my clit between her lips, humming, the vibration shooting straight through me. Two fingers pushed inside me without warning—long, slender, curling perfectly against my G-spot. I bucked against her face, grinding shamelessly.

The Moon Goddess could not have been so cruel to her. ***** ***** ***** This is a work of fiction about werewolves. All characters and events described in this novel are fictitious or used fictitiously for entertainment purposes. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental. All kinds of events are depicted here, so I recommend reading responsibly. If you are a fan of these kinds of stories, I invite you to stay and enjoy.

“No that’s not what I’m saying at all, I’m asking what you know about fiction?” “You mean if I want to free a character from a story, I have to follow the rules of fiction.” “And what rules usually apply to fictional rescues from Hell?” “Wait, you said she was trapped in a story, not Hell.” “Both Heaven and Hell are stories that we tell ourselves. They’re ways of coping with our mortality and what comes after.” “I suppose you’re right, that’s why we tell tales about descents into the underworld isn’t it?” “Yes it is.”

Sprinted to the door, I pulled it open, not expecting it to open, but it did, causing my heart to swell in joy. Ambling to the shelf, my eyes darted round the various book covers. Fiction was my favorite book to read because the best thing about reading was to be able to escape from your life, to be able to read hundreds or even thousands of other lives. Non-fiction does not have that power, it does not change you the way fiction does. To me, if you are not affected somehow, even if it is the slightest change, you are not reading the right book. I would love to think that every novel I have read has become a part of me and created who I am in a sense.

“Of course not. It’s just a house . . . my house, as you said.” “I can’t believe it. You’re Mr. Horror, and you don’t believe in ghosts? How is that even possible?” “Okay, Bias, I’m going to blow your mind with one hell of a revelation about writers and their stories. I’m pretty sure Lewis Carroll never fell down a rabbit hole into a magical Wonderland; it doesn’t seem likely that Anne Rice believes in vampires; and I highly doubt J.K. Rowling has met any real wizards. That’s what makes it fiction and not nonfiction.”

They’re not the main characters in this story. So grab your wine, take off your bra, and settle in. We’re rewriting the damn narrative. ⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰ DISCLAIMER This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental and unintentional.