Sometimes Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction Novels & Stories

, he normally continues to take sips from his coffee after pissing the hell out of me. Why the fuck did I react? "Your case is strange, indeed", he says. "This is the first time when the truth isn't supporting me. You know the truth is my biggest weapon. I have always believed that each truth has at least one lead. Even if a lie has ten leads to take on, just one lead from the truth is enough to beat ten leads of a lie", he intensely looks into my eyes while grunting. It gives chills down my spine. My throat feels dry. I gulp down and look away from his eyes.

Back in the Falco estate. Her theories would sound absolutely insane and delusional to strangers who knew nothing about her and the Falcos. But I'd give her the benefit of the doubt. Of course. The last thing I wanted to do was betray her trust. So, yes. I believed her. But only some of the things she said. The other things sounded bloody bonkers. Then again, some would say, "Reality is stranger than fiction." There must be some lick of truth in her stories. No matter their origins.

She thoughts she has won because she shouted at him and filled his ears with rumours from jobless people who made gossiping their daily routine as if they will get millions of money or awards for each rumour they made. Rumours are true, people will not see a fire without smoke, they will never say what they didn't see or happened, the problem is they will add a huge portion of lies to it; five per cent of truths they saw or happened and ninety-five per cent of lies, big lies. And the strangest and funniest thing about rumours is that people tend to add their own exaggeration; lies as they gossipped or passed to another person, that person will add his/her own exaggeration; lies and passed to

Said a middle-aged man to Lucas. "Mr. Trex's afternoon." Lucas warmly welcomed the greeting of the agency manager who was renting the building. "As promised, Mr. Lucas may choose one of our models." Mr. Trex said casually. Ellthan let out a low chuckle. Hmm a model agency masked prostitution place. He thought. Lucas sighed unreservedly. "Can't more than one?" He asked irritably. Ellthan looked at Lucas lazily. Mr.Trex smiled "No sir. By the way, not all models are like that." He said that what made Ellthan think why not all of his models became prostitutes.

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.

Though he has stopped monitoring the island every moment… The world that was crazed with digitalization had finally learnt to take a break, to talk, to love, to feel, to unplug but how long this change will last only future can tell…. Authors note: I hope you enjoyed reading Fictitious Reality. It often becomes difficult to distinguish between Fiction and Reality. In such times we should not panic. We should use our wit and reasoning to make the right judgement. Do let me know what you think about this book through COMMENTS and REVIEWS.

‘Of course it can be true,’ Helen said, and thereby: the truth. The egg cooker kept roaring. Water kept creeping through the door, and the officers kept looking disappointed. Most people don't actually want to hear what’s true. They cannot stomach it, and when they're served a slice of it, they get nauseous. The truth about the night of the 25th was exactly of this sort, even for Helen. Probably the worst truths are those you have to hide from your own mind, and this one she was desperately trying to hide from hers. ‘Do you need anything else?’

“Who are you trying to fool? My wife is perfectly healthy! How could she possibly be dead? I just saw her two days ago…” Yet right in the middle of snapping back at the supposed scam caller, a cold shiver ran through him. He swept his gaze over the room, then turned toward the wall — the one stained with blood. Suddenly, his mouth felt dry. He shook his head. “No… impossible, it can’t be… She’s fine, she can’t possibly…” he muttered. On the other end of the line, the caller had completely run out of patience. “Ugh, another clueless family member. Imagine — your own wife’s dead and you don’t even know.”

"It's very rude to question someone over a falsely written article." "Well, how can you say for sure that it's false?" The stranger retorted. "And who are you to say it was written based on true facts?" Leonica asked, finally regaining her composure after the tabloid she had read. What a load of bullshit, she thought as she shook her head, people sure were thirsty for her family's downfall to have enough time to create a bullocks rumor like this. But then again, she shouldn't be surprised, it was expected.

He insisted I crouch by the door to listen to their voices. "On October 6th was Xavier's birthday. I summoned the courage to tell him the truth, but he said he would only listen if I finished all the cream on the cake on the table. He knew I was allergic to cream and couldn't eat any." ... The notebook contained records of events from nearly four years. With every page I read, my body temperature dropped, and countless images flashed through my mind, like someone stabbing me with a knife, causing excruciating pain. It was him, the man I dreamed about, Xavier Quinn.