Suspension Disbelief Novels & Stories

"I knew it!" "Send the flowers Pippa," she said then hung up and sent her the address. No one knew better than her, how strong the power of insinuation was. The human mind was weak and susceptible to doubt even when it was sure of something. Most people needed assurance, especially couples whose relationship was on the rocks. So when things happened, things that were impossible to believe, they doubted their beliefs. Just like how Lincoln was about to start doubting Sabrina.

A refusal to believe the unbelievable is what stops your brain from flipping the switch and destroying you. 'So, what's the alternative?' I said. 'Believe you and go mad?' 'No. The alternative is to believe me and stay alive,' he said. 'This isn't about sanity and insanity. Fuck all that. This is about you choosing an alternative reality. This is about you refusing to accept what your mind is telling you. This is about you suspending disbelief long enough to see out another day on this earth.' He paused, biting on his lower lip, his eyes searching mine. 'That is, of course, if you even want to stay alive.'

~PETER POV~ 3 months have passed and it was really a roller coaster ride for us, me and Lucas, and of course together with our baby. We may start our relationship from a bad one, but that's all in the past. Our life has been better, although we encounter some ups and downs with our starting relationship. I feel so blissful together with him and I cannot give up right now. Male pregnancy was quite shocking to us, but the doctor's gave assurance to us that it is possible. And with the help of our family we are coping with our new life.

“The death festival is about to start, they need you, Jeffrey.” Pointing to the reality they are all living in as the darkness will soon engulf everything that their reality is made and what they all believe into. He smirks with his tone of disbelief and anger as he did not hide it away nor is tempted to from the very beginning, knowing that in this reality and world of a distinct book, he cannot trust anyone, but himself.

I stood in the laundry room for a long time after that, the washing machine humming its ordinary rhythm beside me. I want to try to describe what moved through me in that stillness, because it wasn't one feeling. It arrived in layers, too fast to properly separate. First: disbelief, thin and brittle, the kind that makes you reread something three times because surely, surely you've misunderstood it. Maybe it's a coworker. Maybe it's a client's wife. Maybe there's an entirely ordinary explanation, and I'm about to feel foolish for the fear currently climbing up the back of my throat.

in the Critic's hand. The collision was an explosion of "Pure Meta." The silver-glass pen didn't break; it "Inverted." The Critic saw his own reflection in the boy’s violet eyes—not as a powerful antagonist, but as a "Character" himself. A man in a hoodie, trapped on a "Paper Ship," desperate for a world that would actually let him feel something. The "Plot Hole" began to stutter. The "Lag" in the world snapped. Silas and Lyra were thrown back up into the courtyard, their auras exploding in a burst of "Biological Re-entry."

Afraid speaking it aloud would break whatever miracle was happening. "Don't know," I said. Equally afraid. Equally uncertain. "Could be pause. Could be trick. Could be void adapting again. Or could be could be actually over." Network waited together. Silent waiting. Terrified waiting. Hopeful waiting. All hundred and thirty souls holding breath. Wondering if nightmare was ending or just changing shape. Twelve hours without tremor. Longest stretch since tremors began. Bodies started relaxing. Minds started believing. Hearts started hoping. Maybe it was over. Maybe void had stopped. Maybe we'd survived.

“It’s not your fault. Even if you did explain the situation, how many people do you think would actually believe you?” I took a sip of my coffee and thought about that. Honestly, probably very few people—if anyone at all—would believe us. Hell, if I had been on the outside looking in on this situation, I would have thought it was absolute insanity. And for the first half of all of this mess, I had thought it was insanity. It took the farmer getting sick and dying, as well as Liam getting a strange tumor made of dark magic in his lungs, for me to believe it.

Every time I did, Grayson would turn on me, accusing me of being inconsiderate, saying I had no compassion, calling me cold-hearted. Even people around him started blaming me. Said I should be more understanding. Said I was being petty, going up against a sick woman like that. Eventually, I even started to doubt myself. Maybe I really was heartless. Maybe I was the problem. I almost let them brainwash me. Until I accidentally found out the truth—she wasn't sick at all. I told Grayson. He didn't believe me. He said I was just jealous, that's why I thought Sophia was faking it.

“No. Paranoid. You’re seeing conspiracy where there’s just growth. Suspecting betrayal where there’s just slow change.” “Better paranoid and alive than trusting and dead.” “Better risking trust than living in constant fear. We can’t watch them forever. Can’t doubt forever. At some point we have to choose belief or rejection.” “And if I choose wrong?” “Then you choose wrong. But at least you chose. Made decision instead of drowning in indecision.” Lena rolled over. Looked at him in the darkness. “You really think they’re genuine? Really believe transformation is real?” “I think transformation is fragile. I think regression is possible. I think we won’t know if it lasts until it either does or