One Sided Story Novels & Stories

~SARA~ “For the past few days,” I begin, “I’ve been on the news for… all the wrong reasons. Some of you might know me as the mean boss that bullies her subordinates, while others know me as the girl that threatens Jason Ford with a sex tape.” I clench hard on the podium and swallow. “There are two sides to every story. Yours and mine. Mine and theirs, and unfortunately for me, I’ve let others tell theirs—and also mine. But today…”

My heart is beating very wildly as he is sitting very close to me now. "You go first!" I whispered. "Okay." "I sing so well. I play the guitar. I have never been in love." "Which one is the lie?" "you play the guitar." "Aww. You are wrong." "Ohh. So which one is the lie?" "I have never been in love." He said. "I have actually been in love. It ended in tears sha. Hot, premium tears." He added. I couldn't help but laugh. "Do you mind talking about it? I'm sorry for laughing though."

I said calm even Professional smile in place The one I give all clients No exceptions We started I took them through the first layer “Right now, your issue is not just the leak,” I said, tapping lightly on the screen “It’s the narrative around the leak” Slide changed Three headlines appeared Three different tones Three different stories “All of these are already forming,” I continued “One paints you as careless” “Another paints you as complicit” “And the third…” I paused slightly “Paints you as strategic and dangerous” A quiet shift in the room They hadn’t thought that far Of course they hadn’t “We are not fighting one story,” I said

"A-side, B-side It seems like a little bit, but this is not a song by that Brazilian band, Racionais MC's. I wrote a chronicle when I was bored and I remembered the story of a guy I used to date, who was a journalist. I wondered what it would be like if I were a crime reporter, the way I shit with a fear of blood. I remember that we were called to the South American country to cover the case of a murder of a supposedly innocent resident. I say supposed because we must always reject the aura of owners of the truth. We only report the facts as they appear to us. And most of the time, they are incomplete. So supposed. Supposedly resident. Supposedly innocent. The only thing that was certain was

She pouted. "Mami, I don't care. All I know is I want you to pack our bags before I return." He snapped. "Someone is on his period" She whispered waving hand at the friendly receptionist. After packing the bags up, she opened the curtains. Looking at the busy street, she will miss taking tea while hussain is hugging her behind. She sighed softly, this is not how she wanted her vacation to end. She wanted to leave a memory behind and now all the memory she will leave behind, is that of her husband fighting his brother.

I stood at the desk and looked down the row. Five weeks we'd handled these as five separate problems. The thread was one thing. The cloth was another. The confession a third — and every time we got somewhere on one of them, we put it down and picked up the next. They were never separate. "We're looking at one story," I said. "So we tell it from the start, and we don't stop in the middle."

He leaned in further, his shadow completely swallowing the space between us. “Besides,” Noah continued, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly vibration that made the water in my glass shake. “Who says the “one” is always the person everyone expects? Sometimes the person you are “made for” is the one you are currently busy lying to. Right, Khione? Isn’t that how the story goes?”

I hated that he was right, but he was. "But if I go out alone," he continued, "if I stand up and say 'I did this, it was wrong, I'm sorry' — then the story is simple. Clean. A man fabricated a story. He confessed. He recanted. Your name gets cleared. The article dies. End of story." "And Lily walks away. Unscathed." "Lily walks away." The words came out like he was reading them off a tombstone. "Again." The silence that followed was different from the ones before. Heavier. Dense with something that neither of us was willing to name.

Chapter 368 Max I'd like to believe that I'm not a skeptic but that would be lying. I know for a fact that I am a skeptical person because sometimes people don't always tell the truth, sometimes they just do and they sometimes make it into something that they want you to believe. There are always three sides to a story. I will say that there's always four sides to every story, there's the part that you hear, there's the part that the other person has to tell, the part that people believe is their own opinion of the truth and then the one that balances all is the real truth.

“I told you, I won’t force you.” “But we must, I mean we can’t fake the-” “We’ll mark each other. It'll be enough to sustain our story. I know how you feel about it, but the mark will fade away eventually. We'll renew it once in a while.” By the end of this talk, he was only in his underwear. A small whimper escaped my mouth causing me to slap a hand over it. His laugh filled the room. Despite the turmoil of emotions that were ravaging my mind, I couldn’t deny the fact that his body was nothing less than perfect.