Is Fiction Real Or Not Real Novels & Stories

I shook my head, still smiling and said, “That's ridiculous. They are made-up creatures by humans.” I could tell by the look of Sara and Kiara that they were kind of disappointed hearing my reply. But what else was I supposed to say? I couldn’t tell them werewolves were real and not break their bubble. How can werewolves exist in real life? Werewolves, vampires, zombies — these were only fictional. Period. ###

“What is this? I told you we just need a brief description. I didn’t ask you to make up some bullshit story.” “I added some colour-” “You didn’t add colour,” he interrupts the writer. “You wrote a whole fucking horror story. When did any of our children die? We didn’t pick up exploded elders in the forest. Everything we say needs to be believable. This is not.” “I’m sorry, your highness,” the woman says. “I write fiction, not-” “Do better next time,” Johnathan interrupts and shoves the folder back in her hands. “Who has the fact sheet about this man?”

“After seeing what I am, you should not be so hard on yourself. It would surprise you to find out how many inexplicable things are in this world!” The certainty of his words totally disarmed me, especially since lately I didn’t really know what was real and what wasn’t. Everything in my life was fiction, so why shouldn’t I think there was such a hybrid somewhere around us? “Let’s just say I think she or he exists. What makes you think it will give you the blood? After all, it would be some kind of supply body, right? For consumption. I don’t think there are so many people like that, or are there?”

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.

“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?”

For the first time since stepping onto this campus, I felt in control again. And then, "Sir" Came his voice.. "Yes, Mr leister." I answered, sounding professional, wondering what he possibly what to say. "By your explanation, does it mean that werewolf stories are a perfect example of fiction," Noah’s voice cut through the room. "They’re thrilling, full of fantasy elements, but obviously, they aren’t real." My grip tightened around the edge of the desk. Slowly, I turned my head toward him. He sat there, completely unaware of the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Completely unaware of how wrong he was.

In fact, that was the truth; an unfortunate truth that meant that whenever Kylie interrupted his reading time – which was often – he had to depend on her kindness to get his book back. “What is so fun about this stuff anyway? Nothing they write here is real.” Kylie flipped through the pages of the book with a curious expression on her face. Her swift brain was able to piece its genre together with just a cursory glance. The book in her hand was a fictional one. It spoke of creatures that weren’t real and powers that were clearly fake. Her brother was fond of such books and she didn’t understand why. Why was he so fixated on the unreal instead of the real? Sure the real was difficult to navig

That's what he wanted. "Okay...so first question. Whatever is written in these books is real, right? I mean these are not fictional? She sounded so unsure that Azraiel wanted to laugh. He controlled the laughter bubbling in his throat while she continued to play with the pen and paper in her hand. "No...they are not fictional. Everything that is written in these books is true." Azraiel answered her, leaning back in his chair to create some space between them; both for the sake of her nerves and his sanity.

Inside was a dream; tall walls, open space, windows so big you could see everything yet nothing at all. The isolation of the property both excited and scared me, and the longer I walked around holding Armani’s hand, the more I began to feel a little hopeful again. My concerns over the last day felt silly — presumptuous. Though a part of my brain was still very aware that this could turn sour very quickly, I allowed myself to enjoy this simple few minutes with my fake husband and even smile, just a little bit.

Confused but felt something at the same time. Your output, it's-- "Fiction, a work of imagination. An exaggeration of reality sometimes opposite to it. It's like playing with reality trying to make it more ideal and dream-like. " After that, Craig take his seat and continue writing in his notea leaving everyone more confused and dumbfounded.