Stories That Are Made Up Novels & Stories

I asked, trying to clarify what Rayene had said. "Right. They are all made up, created by authors for their stories and novels. It's this playful act of bringing a character to life that makes writing so exciting and enjoyable. It's like you're creating your own reality, and you're in control of it. You can make your characters do whatever you want, and you can take them on any adventure you desire." I nodded, feeling a little amused and kind of better by her words. "That sounds amazing. I think I might give writing a try myself. You will help me right? And, we can write about your world which will exist in my imagination."

If you must tell a story, then you should tell the story from the start to finish. But this time it was i who was telling such stories to my children at bedtime, a story which is not meant to be told at such a bed time rest, but this is not a story as it ought to be. Do you call History of one a story? In general stories could be anything fake or real but to me it was not. To me the History of my people was never a story. No it should be called the way it was... a History. This was going to be me in that story, pardon me i have made error calling the History of my home a story. Again i seek for remission of sin from the gods of my home land if it be an atrocity to tell the younger ones such

narrative was just part of her carefully crafted image. Even the rumor about the illegitimate child was fake. They were lies she spread when she couldn’t get the guy she wanted.

“That depends. Only if you are speaking truthfully.” There was no way he would know if I was lying or not, so I swiftly concocted a story. “Since I was young, I had the perfect family. We would always eat and pray together. I am focused on family, and that is what shaped me. My brother and I are very close. I am a person who enjoys reading, I am calm and collected, I think with my head and—” “Pfft.” He covered his mouth with his hand as if trying to stifle a laugh. “I must apologize, your fabricated story made me want to laugh.”

“Well… They just wanted to know.” My lips widened. “Then come closer.” I filled his head with stories that were both true and not, exaggerating my first meeting with Jay. He gobbled everything, eyes wide, gasping when it called for it, and smiling when he felt it was cute. I didn't know I was such a wonderful storyteller until I started spinning the lies. “Wow. I bet they would shed tears just listening to your story,” he said when I was done with my lies disguised as the truth.

“Story!” I couldn’t help but smile. “You want a story?” I asked, stifling a laugh. The children nodded excitedly. “The wolf story!” one of them exclaimed. “We want to hear the wolf story again!” How could I refuse? The ‘wolf story’ in question was one that I had made up yesterday on the spot, a story about a rogue wolf chasing a little girl. It was a scary story that had made the children gasp, their eyes wide with fear, but they seemed to love it.

“Make it a good one.” “Oh, I shall!” it chittered, and with a flourish, it conjured a new narrative pocket in our world. This one wasn't tiny. It was a full-scale, shimmering mirage that overlay a corner of the garden. It depicted a classic, sweeping fantasy epic—knights, dragons, a quest for a glowing mcguffin. But something was off. The knight kept tripping over his own cloak. The dragon was afraid of heights. The glowing mcguffin was just a very persuasive lightbulb.

“You have a handsome husband. I mean the father of your child and your hidden son with him. How did you manage to be away with them? It's been five years, you don't have regrets?” I was dumbfounded for a few seconds. How can I give her a response? The narratives were only made up. It was way more complicated than this. Lucas did not even argue with me the way I introduced them. Instead, he loves the idea. He told me that I could be the best writer if I started writing some fictional story. I just glared at him in return. He can't figure out that it's because of them. I am now lying to my neighbors and my staff and making up stories so our cases can't become more complicated. I don't know if

He believed in the fact that hard work is the key to success which Keith Jonas didn't really agree to but obviously always had to pretend to. Mr. Paul was a person who was hard to please and he never trusted anyone easily. But Keith somehow managed to gain his trust within the time period of 5 years. Yes. 5 damn years. Keith was one of the most trustworthy person of Mr. Paul after his son. But deep down he felt something strange about Keith. Something odd. “I calculated the revenue for this month but I saw a difference of 500$ in the total amount.” “But... I’m the one who calculates the revenue for each month... why did you bother Mr. Paul” Keith hesitated and turned his face towards the sho

“Now that… is valuable.” Finally. Someone who understands what opportunity looks like. He pulls out a recorder. “Tell me everything. The dirtier the better.” I inhale. Time to perform. I start weaving stories. Some true, but most of them are all bullshit stories. Little scenes of private arguments between Xander and me, exaggerated until they sound violent. Fabricated details about Olivia, painting her as manipulative, attention-seeking, desperate for fame. Invented messages. Invented confrontations. Invented secrets. Each word tastes like poison on my tongue. But it’s a poison I intend to spread.