Is Fiction Real Or Not Real Novels & Stories

Probably I am hallucinating because I am really tired. I can't tell what is real from what is fake now!

It's a story just for your enjoyment and nothing else. This story and plot is solely of author's imagination. Nothing is real. If Any incident or people from this story actually have any similarity to the real life people , character or incidents, then it is only an co incidence and nothing more. This book is pure form of imagination. It's not real , any of it is not real. ©All rights reserved 2022

I'd secretly wanted to for years but I never thought I was close enough to the type of guy he likes. Man, oh man! I couldn't even tell you how many men were inside me. Or how many I was inside of. Practically every one of them was addictive! Big, long, hard, rubbery, torpedo shaped, giant, thick, thin, you name it, everything a man could ever hope for was right there. In me, on me, against me, around me; there were slime covered bodies slipping and sliding - it was way better than ALL of my fantasies!

" That's dumb!" " Creativity was never something to be called dumb. It doesn't have to match reality as it's based on their fictional side. As for fiction, it is actually, a break from reality. Note that it's not easy to get someone out of the real world, to introduce readers, and television audience to another world full of emotions, feeling, and beauty." When " Never think about that way..." He said, then I added. " You never think at all." " How about you re-watch it with e once we go home." He suggests, and I declined his suggestion.

“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.”

Those small moments of encouragement make me want to keep writing, even on the days when it’s hard. This story might not be perfect, but it’s honest. Every chapter is written with effort and thought. Some parts may move fast, others a bit slower but that’s how stories breathe. I hope, somewhere in between, you find something that sticks with you. --- PREFACE Before you start, I want to say this clearly: This is a work of fiction. Everything you’ll read — the names, places, businesses, and events comes from imagination. Some details may feel familiar, but they’re not taken from real life. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, or to actual events, is purely coincidental.

It's a story just for your enjoyment and nothing else. This story and plot are solely of the author's imagination. Nothing is real. If Any incident or people from this story have any similarity to the real-life people, characters, or incidents, then it is only a coincidence and nothing more. This book is a pure form of imagination. It's not real, any of it is not real. ©All rights reserved 2022

There was a chance that the marking wouldn’t work because she was human and honestly as much as it pained me it would probably be for the best if it didn’t. An hour later we were in the jet ready to take off and go back to the real world that was our lives and I felt dread in the pit of my stomach. My appetite was gone but Finley ate breakfast on the jet as if she hadn’t eaten the whole weekend. “Do you ever think about the reality of the things you write?” I asked her. “There is no reality in what I write Damon, that’s why it’s called fiction,” she said as she made herself more comfortable on the leather chair.

I found it she answered honestly in my room. Harper considered it seemingly in deep thought then said I’m not sure if any cyclops even still live or where to find one if they do I have only heard rumors so far. Well what are the rumors emery asked? I’ve heard there is one in the redwood forest but no one I knows been in those woods in a century. They lay beyond our kingdom and even out of reach of the tyrant who comes for you.

Either I’m losing it…Or I’m not. And somehow, neither option feels comforting. I drag in a slow breath, trying to ground myself. “Maybe It’s just your imagination,” I whisper out to myself. Because that would make the most sense. It has to. Because the alternative? The alternative is that I’m not imagining anything at all. And that thought… That thought is enough to make something cold slide down my spine. So I choose logic. I have to. Because if I don’t then I’m just blurring the lines between my reality and the things I write. God knows I spend more time inside the fictional worlds I create than I do in the real one.