Is Fiction Real Or Not Real Novels & Stories

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.

Darwin’s theory of evolution is a borderline case where the fundamentalists still feel there might be some hope of retaining the myth, but the straw to which they cling is rapidly pulling away from the soil. I want to argue therefore that there are at least two fundamentally different kinds of stories about the world that we human beings tell one another: the variety that are based on evidence and open to disproof (notice I have said disproof and not proof), and the variety that are based on faith or non-rational belief of one kind or another and are not. There are also of course consciously created stories of the kind that you find on writers’ sites like this one, but these (generally speak

“It is fiction. These characters must have fantasised about having foreplay and sex like this, so in their mind, they have created the person that doesn’t exist and accept whatever happens afterwards with character growth.” Hayden sat up and looked at me, his gaze intense. “But doesn’t it feel wrong in some way? What if we had first met, and I thought of you as some maid and you thought of me as that stable boy?” “It’s not about us. That is fiction—” “Would you have been thrilled to have sex with me if I had introduced myself as a Navy Seal as soon as we started talking?” No, I would have run away. “Well, of course.” I asked, “Would you have been thrilled to have sex with me if I had introdu

Sikandar affirmed. Aarif scoffed, “So what if the world is destroyed? It never existed in the first place.” “It does exist in a fictional sense,” Sikandar countered, “What’s happening may be fictional but our thoughts and feelings are real.” “Do you hear the words coming out of your mouth? How can something be fictional and real?” “I know how you feel.” “No, you don’t.” “You are confused, angry, scared, hopeless. Everything seems pointless now. Nothing looks worth living for anymore.”

"And I can't differentiate them from you. I can't tell reality apart from fiction. It is as if something is blocking me from making the right decision. Sometimes I will be reminiscing and reveling in your memory. And when I think that is you, and when I am sure it is you. You then disappear like a pillar and cloud of smoke. Just gone, as if you have been released from my grasp. I am struggling to separate reality from fiction. Sometimes even when I open my eyes, I still can't tell it apart."

“This is only the latest incarnation, the visible part of the story if you will, like the tip of an iceberg showing above the water. The rest of the story resides with its teller and the footage will want to join it, so it will take you there.” “But what happens when I get there? What’s this Mr Isimud going to do? I mean if he trapped Melissa in his story and made her a character, he’s not just going to hand her over is he?” “Have you ever read a story where that happens?” “No, but this isn’t a story, it’s actually happening.” “Are you entirely sure of that?” “Are you saying I’m hallucinating all of this?” “No that’s not what I’m saying at all, I’m asking what you know about fiction?”

Hе mіght ѕуmраthіѕе rаthеr thаn mock me аbоut mу оbѕеѕѕіоn. “Wеll, I саn’t lеt іt ѕlіdе all thе tіmе, after аll, thеу are fictional guуѕ and I’m the rеаl dеаl. I hаvе to mаkе ѕurе I’m dоіng mу jоb іn ѕhоwіng you that magic dоеѕ hарреn outside thе раgеѕ оf a bооk too.”

I steadied my breathing, “Do you know that if you put in the same energy you use to read into school, you’d be a grade A student.” She stuck out her tongue at me in retaliation. “You really need to read this one; it’s about fairies and werewolves,” she gushed, “I can’t wait to meet an actual fairy.” “Fairies don’t exist, Leslie,” I said in a bored tone. “Of course they do,” she argued, “If they didn’t then why would people write about them?” “Because it’s a myth, and it’s fantasy, it sells well.” “Every myth is based on truth,”

I had grown suspicions of everyone around me, expecting them to suddenly turn into animals and devour us. “Do you think werewolves are real?” I asked Zach during one of our breaks. We were seated on the bench at the balcony. Zach grabbed my hand and started playing with my fingers. “I don’t know. Mommy said that they are not real but fictional characters. Harry potter, Frankenstein and others too. Do you think they are real?

I am trying to hold my consciousness until I heard the doctor's reply. "She's your mother, Mrs. Arison." Huh? My mother? I was so weak that I couldn't keep my eyes open. Later on that moment, my vision blackout. Note: This book contains violence, sexual harassment, or mature content. You have been warned by the author. Thus, the characters in this story are all from the author's imagination. So, I welcome you all to the roller coaster ride, come and join me in uncovering what's behind! Happy reading 💫