Stories That Are Made Up Novels & Stories

Something that he made up in his head. Minos had a dull life growing up, but he was obsessed with telling fantastic stories. Not really being in a position to experience those kind of stories, he would sometimes make one up or exaggerate other kid's tales and claim them as his own, planting himself in the center of the narrative. Res assured, he would oftentimes be contented with simply reading every book he could find, and retelling them for others to hear.

“You scared the poor boy, dude.” That was the first response he got from Damien Lau after he finished telling the whole story. The doctor visited him today, and he served some mineral waters to him. He was just a bachelor who didn’t really care about food at home and only had mineral waters with him. Despite being a bad host, the painter still dared to pour his heart out by telling the story that bothered him since yesterday. Yeah, he had told his friend about his ‘experience’ with his student yesterday.

He let out the friendliest of smiles, making Anderson very uncomfortable. Anderson stared back and forth between Suit and the scroll. His mind was racing. The contract sounded simple enough. Straightforward, but he did not understand. ‘What did he mean by survive the stories? Did he not say I was going to tell a story? What does survive the story mean?’ Question after question popped up into his head. He could not help himself. He had no idea exactly what it meant, but one thing was for certain; He would not move forward if he did nothing but constantly question the situation

“Lulu, I can’t do that for you, only you can make him see that. I don’t want you to just pretend to change; it would be nice if you made a conscious decision to make certain changes in your life.” “I don’t think I will have trouble with that; my husband has left me and taken the children, I have probably…no, I have definitely lost my job at TMH…and everyone finally knows for a fact that I am not an original Mulenga.” “So what do you plan to do with your life from now?” Bernard asked. “I’ve always wanted to start my own company…I’ve saved enough over the years so maybe it’s a good time to start.” “What sort of company?” “Media of course, a newspaper, give the Mulenga’s a run for their money.”

“I don’t really know what to think, Gavin. You brought me here with cryptic allusions to a Truth, then have me read these stories . . . ” I wave at the book and I swear Gavin’s flowing script wavers and trembles, beckoning me to read on. “These stories can’t be true, not literally. Okay, so you had an accident and you re-evaluated your career and your life, then used that experience to tell an entertaining story. Maybe you embellished a little in places, maybe you hallucinated some and used that as material. But . . . ”

Sinjin couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun just goofing around. He and the boys had played games like chess, Monopoly, and Scrabble. When they grew tired of the games, they pleaded with him to tell them a story, so he fabricated one from his imagination. It had been so scary that they literally begged him to stop and cowered in fear under their blankets. Taking pity on them, he assured them they had nothing to worry about. While Troy stared at him skeptically, not believing him, Tristan simply grinned and called him an awesome storyteller.

"Your father is doing this for your own good. He knows what he is doing. "Why did you run out and make a scene?" Megan stared at her. Her voice rose sharply. "Mom, Zack is vomiting blood. How could he possibly be fine?" Mom frowned impatiently and waved her off. "Enough. Your father said expired poison is not a big deal. Stop making everything dramatic." I clenched my fists. My nails dug into my palms. Using all my strength, I pushed myself up against the wall. "Mom, Zack hurts..." Mom gave me a perfunctory smile.

I knew the secret now—but how was I supposed to expose it? Smash the wall open? No. That would only put me in the same humiliating situation as before, letting him twist the story and paint me as mentally unstable. Staring at the markings on the blueprint, a plan slowly formed in my mind. I spent several days preparing. Then I procured a special type of smoke compound—completely harmless, but with an incredibly strong odor, like sulfur mixed with rotten eggs. Even the faintest leak would fill a sealed space instantly. Another Wednesday evening passed. Marc texted to say the new line was entering final review. He and the core designers would be working late, and I shouldn't wait for him.

It was a story I enjoyed listening to from dad and I almost laugh out loud when I realize what dad is trying to tell me. "What?" I let out a scoff before opening the door to my old room. "It doesn't necessarily mean he'll change for you." Dad starts but I start shaking my head already tired of listening. "Then why did you remind me of that story dad? A story that you made up?" Dad made up that story when he didn't know what to do when mum was away. Mother was the storyteller, not him. Either way, I loved the story and made him tell every day but I would notice that it wasn't the same every time he narrated it. He would just say how he remembered it and then add some things and emit some unti

‘There’s no option left, but to make up a lie’ Smiling awkwardly, Claire heaved a long sigh, there’s no other way to escape this. Her fingers started playing with each other as she felt the coldness envelope her body. Can she make up a big lie such as this? Would it not trample with the original story? ‘It won't damage the flow right? This is only a minor detail, and it cannot change the whole plot.’ she gulped nervously, she licked the bottom of her lips to moisturize it.