Autofiction Stories

BOOK ONE OF THE BIANCA AND DOM TRILOGY Does God write love stories worthy of fairy tales? Discover the answer in this powerful journey that blends spirituality and romance unlike anything you've ever read! Based on a true story, Bianca and Dom were born in the same city and were united by the strong friendship between their fathers. However, a move suddenly broke their contact. Bianca grew up fearless, focused on a single purpose: missions and charity, leaving no room for marriage or romance. Years later, the reunion of their fathers places the charming Dom, now a pastor's son, directly in her path. Bianca remains unfazed by his charm, dedicated to her solitary missionary journey. But on the eve of her departure, God intervenes with an unexpected proposal that threatens to undo all her plans.

Fra is shaped by self-awareness, trauma, contradicting thoughts and feelings, and by being a failed nihilist all at once. He sees the world with unforgiving clarity and retells his experiences with a disgustingly honest, almost too-confessional voice; shameful thoughts, taboo urges, the parts that make us "bad" friends, and the desires we can't shake off. Therapy was supposed to fix him, yet all it ever did was make him more painfully aware of everything wrong. He knew the causes, the patterns, the diagnoses-none of it helped. He walked into every session already knowing the answers and walked out with nothing to do with them. A mind that understands itself too well and still can't heal is its own kind of hell. Despite wanting to be numb, he isn't numb enough to stop caring-yet not hopeful enough to start living the way he, or society, insists he should. Knowing exactly what's wrong yet having no idea what to do with that knowledge is only one of the many tortures his emotional intelligence has handed him. [This story is a 1st person view based one, Fra and the author are not the same person characters Like Ivan or other ones may be based on real experiences but aren't real people and made up]

Lyra, a girl of 19 is a thriving student studying Nursing. She finds herself drawn to an old friend, little does she know that he and his family are going to turn her world upside down.

Whimsy is a lonely, fantasy-prone girl who often wonders whether she is from another planet. Determined to make a friend, she sets out to study the strange creatures on the playground. Instead of finding friends, she creates enemies!

During his graveyard shift at a near-empty hostel, Allen drifts through small tasks and late-night distractions, slowly realizing his life is stuck in place. As dawn approaches, one decision might change everything-or nothing at all. Inspired by true events.

In help for those who desire to survive mentally.

125000 divorces en une année, c'est 125000 drames. Parmi eux, celui d'Abby. A 12 ans, son insouciance s'évanouit soudainement et doit alors dire adieu à son enfance. Ce n'est pas facile de vivre le divorce de ses parents. Le monde perd tout son sens et Abby, elle, perd son sourire. Déjà blessée par ces "histoires d'adultes", elle va apprendre à ses dépens que l'univers des collégiens est souvent cruel.

20 short poems written in English in 2016, for a PechaKucha performance: www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZXa3PJwa7og . They were all inspired by my visual artworks. I looked at some of my drawings and paintings, and listened to the voices overflowing my mind in the process, in a dialogue between my drawing self and my writing self. I sing or speak these poems in improv performances that you can listen at https://soundcloud.com/mezzomonte 20 courts poèmes écrits en anglais en 2016 pour une performance PechaKucha: www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZXa3PJwa7og. Ils ont tous été inspirés par mes travaux visuels. J'ai regardé mes dessins/peintures, et j'ai écouté les voix déborder de mon esprit au cours du processus, dans un dialogue entre mon côté illustrateur et mon côté écrivain. Je chante ou lis ces poèmes lors de performances d'impro, que vous pouvez écouter ici: https://soundcloud.com/mezzomonte

Tribulations psychiques d'une jeune femme dans le flou. Plume qui glisse au fil des pensées, la thérapie par la plume.

That's the thing about this city: you come here thinking you'll be among the rich and famous, but mostly you run into guys like Steve.

tender is how i've been

"In the infinite echo of your presence, each encounter remains a dawn, igniting anew the volatile chemistry that binds us. Yet, a relentless world conspires to sever these fragile threads. I now contemplate the precipice of our narrative: Will this love forge our destinies, or fracture our very beings?" -Zender

Récit où l'on essaie d'en raconter le moins possible. Tentative d'écriture au long cours. L'idée serait de raconter la vie du narrateur à partir des adresses. Il existe peut-être un jeu de mot avec les adresses à vivre..

Bah moi je n'ai rien à redire Je ne suis fait que pour relyre

I hope someone understands and benefits from this. If you like it, please leave a comment below and I will try to publish on this platform a second story. P.S: If you would like me to edit this, I will try my best to do so. This story was written during an experience I went through and due to time that past, It became numbed and left in the past without trying to find the best conclusion for its explanation.

Hello. This is a story about a girl called Daisy Chain. Except once she was called Poppy. One day, she might be called something else. It is also a story about her brother. He is called Dusk. Once, he was called Maxim. And Maxim is what he will always be. If he hadn't died. Now, Daisy Chain and Dusk are trapped in a room in a strange world, with only one door, only one key, and no-one who wants to use it. This is a story about siblings, about grief, about laughing, about love, both familial and romantic. This is a story about life and death. About how we survive. How we cope. How we thrive. This is a story. It's all about love.

Je n'ai peut-être pas fini mon premier livre, mais il est pressant de vous raconter mon été. Comme d'habitude, j'ai tout fait chier... Mais pas partout.

Let me tell you all about the only one I've ever loved. His name is not important. In fact, I spent years refusing to say his name. To do so meant to give a realness to it, a clarity that I'm still not sure I'm ready to own. I've returned to the old comfort of referring to him by the numbers in my phone, plus-one-ten-digits that rewired my brain, my body, my life. The boy you are about to meet is now my husband. We have two beautiful children together, the births of which almost killed me. I should indeed be dead by now; were it not for the precocious midnight antics of my oldest son, I would not be here to tell you all about him. But you see, I'm having trouble processing what happened to me. I'm having trouble staring into his eyes and not feeling the immense weight of the last fifteen years crashing down on me. Drowning me with metanarratives and memories. It hurts to write; but it helps to remember. These are my diary entries from 2009 to 2010, Year 1 of our stupidly messy saga. I don't know how long I can keep this up, but this little book was already written nearly fifteen years ago. I thought the least I could do is share it. Maybe reading through it will help me, I thought. Maybe sharing it with you will help me even more. This book is not just based on a true story; it *is* the story of the man I've come to marry, the Tate to my Violet, my longest-running autistic special interest, my high school sweetheart, my soul's first love, my Imzadi, my only friend. My synonym of fate. This is the Hopelessly Sentimental Romantic, Year 1: 2009 to 2010.

A woman in her fifties reflects on passages of her life, recalling moments that shaped her journey.