Fiction Is Real Novels & Stories

My name—or some version of it—attached to a fiction that mirrors my reality. "You were halfway through the sequel when the accident happened," Jacob explains. "You kept talking about some wild new direction for the story—something about parallel dimensions and a character named William trying to harvest energy from multiple realities." The room seems to tilt around me. In this reality, my life—my true life—exists only as fiction. A story written by a version of myself who somehow glimpsed across dimensional barriers. A notification pops up on the tablet—a news alert. Jacob doesn't notice as I read the headline with growing horror:

There is a massive screen showing some guy blowing an 8 inch cock - it get me instantly hard and I quickly make myself come - being surrounded by extremely fit young men all day has had me fantasising about submitting to an alpha stud all day , and to finally get a release is amazing but I desperately want to taste another man’s come and be the slut I really am. I must have fallen asleep in this little fantasy as I wake up and to begin with I don’t know where I am . I can see the big screen in front of me, some cute twink is taking a bbc in his ass , I’m confused and disorientated but suddenly realise I’m at the sauna. I’m face down, and someone is trying to fuck me!!!!!. I’ve been moved on

“I wish it were. But it’s all true.” I stared at her, my pulse pounding like war drums in my ears. “Werewolves...? You’re telling me they’re real? Not just fantasy, not just books and movies?” Her gaze softened, “And vampires. And witches. All of them. But not like the stories you know. Some books came close, but most turned us into cartoons. Fairy tales… exaggerations. We became fiction to survive.” I shook my head, trying to shove down the rising panic. “So… Do you guys actually drink blood? Like, for real?”

You are the heroine, carrying self as holy, carrying self as only. Rest all the world is fake. You cannot take or you cannot keep. Your real acquaintance is you. Talk to you. Do not prepare to bury the you. You work. You strain. You are the only sane, capable to frame this story into a success regime. You smile your way to peace. You are the one for real peace in it.

She blinks, “Are you calling me insane?” “Yes, Alicia. Werewolves do not exist. I know life is hard and it’s often difficult to different between fiction and reality, but wake up, babe. Werewolves aren’t real. You might want to see a Shrink. Those are real.” I scoff, and grin wide.

Because he’s right about how I tried to forget his existence. Because how can I believe what he said was true? All my life, I thought those kinds were just fictional! I read and watch a lot of fantasy books and movies, and I never fathomed that it might be real. If I accept the reality that vampires exist, then other kinds probably do as well. I don’t want to imagine it because it’s honestly terrifying.

Patting her ‘fro, she answers the question: “Well, if you ask me, I'd say that the line between Fiction and Reality should not be blurred. In real life, no Mafia is going to sweep you off your feet and pamper you like a good girl. Or, treat you like his princess. It's all make-believe. Entertainment. No single Mafia man out there is like the ones that you read about in the pages of my book. Or any book in the Mafia-Billionaire Romance genre for that matter.” Like an obedient puppet, the Interviewer is quick to agree on that take.

He was laughing. " Not at all... You know if I don't sleep for two nights then the third day I can even sleep while standing. " " This is too much, you are kidding me. " " Trust me, If I sleep all of a sudden under that condition and if anyone asks me anything, I start behaving as if I am drugged or given the medicine so that I can only speak the truth. I would even admit that I murdered someone if I really had. I mean to say that I lose control over my mind. And the funniest part is, that I won't remember anything about it when I get up. " he was looking at me with surprise and then he burst out laughing.

If only fictional people existed in real life :( \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

“You're right, it could be a fake. I guess you'll just have to read and find out. You should keep one thing in mind though, you can't fake authenticity. Words written from the heart, from experiences whether good or bad and being able to overcome one's trauma; they can never be untrue. Ziarre's genuine self will shine through those pages, I just know it. You can come up with different excuses as to why you'd rather not read it but you and I know that the truth is, you're scared of what you'll find. You're terrified of the possibility that you made a horrible mistake.