fiction or non fiction
is this part of this story fiction or non-fiction''The old bookstore at the corner of Maple Street was never open past dusk, yet that night, its warm glow flickered against the rain-soaked pavement. Claire hesitated at the door, the scent of aged paper and ink wrapping around her like a familiar embrace. Inside, the aisles seemed longer than she remembered, stretching endlessly into shadow. A single book sat open on the counter, its pages fluttering despite the absence of wind. As she stepped closer, the ink rearranged itself, forming words she had never written but knew by heart. Her unfinished story. Heart pounding, she traced a trembling finger over the lines, and the moment she did, the world around her rippled. The bookshelves vanished, the walls dissolved, and she was no longer standing in the store—she was inside the story itself. The words whispered around her, shaping a reality she had only dreamed of, and for the first time, she wondered if she would ever find her way back.''
FICTION
how many stanzas are in this poet
Whispers of the Moon
The moonlight hums a gentle tune,
A song that drifts through midnight’s bloom.
Soft silver threads upon the sea,
A tapestry of mystery.
The stars lean close to hear the sound,
A melody both lost and found.
It dances high, it lingers low,
A whisper where the dreamers go.
The trees, like watchmen, bow in grace,
Their shadows carved in time and space.
The wind, a wanderer untamed,
Calls out to those who know its name.
A river sings in murmured streams,
Reflecting long-forgotten dreams.
It winds through valleys, dark and deep,
Where ancient echoes rise from sleep.
The mountains wear their coats of mist,
Their peaks by fleeting dawnlight kissed.
They whisper secrets to the sky,
As morning paints the clouds nearby.
A lone owl calls from distant heights,
Its voice a thread within the night.
It speaks of journeys, far and wide,
Of those who walked, yet never died.
The fireflies flicker, soft and bright,
Like lanterns lost in endless flight.
They weave a dance, so wild, so free,
A fleeting glimpse of poetry.
A poet sits with ink and quill,
His heart a vessel, deep and still.
He writes the whispers of the air,
The love, the loss, the world laid bare.
The candle flickers, low and meek,
Yet in its glow, the muses speak.
They tell of lovers turned to stone,
Of kingdoms lost and stars alone.
A wave retreats upon the shore,
Yet sings of places touched before.
Its voice, a lullaby so sweet,
That calls the moon and tides to meet.
The clock hands move, yet time stands still,
A paradox that bends the will.
For those who chase the fleeting past,
Are bound to shadows meant to last.
The garden hums a tune so light,
A symphony of sound and sight.
The roses bow, the willows sway,
As nature sings the night away.
The morning nears, yet darkness stays,
For night is more than lost delays.
It holds the dreams that dare to roam,
A midnight path, a fleeting home.
So listen close and hear the tune,
The whispers soft beneath the moon.
For in the night, a story grows,
A tale that only dreamers know.
14 stanzas
fiction or non fiction''
Lisa hurried through the grocery store, her mind racing with her never-ending to-do list. Between work, her kids’ school projects, and taking care of her aging mother, she barely had time to breathe. As she reached for a loaf of bread, an elderly woman beside her struggled to grab a carton of milk. Without hesitation, Lisa helped her, earning a warm smile in return. “Thank you, dear,” the woman said softly. “It’s nice when someone notices.” Lisa paused, realizing how often she moved through life without really seeing the people around her. That small moment of kindness reminded her to slow down, to appreciate the present, and to be more mindful. As she walked out of the store, she made a silent promise—to notice more, to help more, and to be present in the little moments that truly mattered.''
non fiction
fiction or non fiction
Jason sat in his car, gripping the steering wheel, staring at the job interview location through the windshield. Doubt crept in—was he really qualified? Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself of the years he had spent working hard, learning, and growing. He stepped out, adjusted his tie, and walked inside. The interviewer smiled and asked about his experience, and suddenly, Jason found himself speaking with confidence he didn’t know he had. The conversation flowed naturally, and by the end, the interviewer shook his hand and said, “We’ll be in touch soon.” As he walked back to his car, Jason felt a sense of accomplishment, regardless of the outcome. He had faced his fears, taken a chance, and proved to himself that he belonged. Sometimes, success wasn’t just about landing the job—it was about believing you deserved to be there.
non fiction
ficiton on non fiction
Emma found the old key buried beneath the roots of a towering oak in her grandmother’s backyard. She had spent summers playing there as a child, but she had never seen the small, rusted key before. Curiosity led her to the attic, where dust danced in the sunlight streaming through a cracked window. Among the forgotten trunks and faded letters, she spotted an old wooden chest with a lock that matched the key perfectly. With a deep breath, she turned the key, and the lock clicked open. Inside, she found a bundle of letters addressed to her—written by her mother, who had passed away years ago. Tears filled her eyes as she unfolded the first one, her mother’s familiar handwriting bringing back memories. Each letter held stories, advice, and love meant to reach her across time. In that moment, Emma realized that even though her mother was gone, love had a way of finding its way back to her.
fiction
fiction or non fiction
Liam found the strange, old pocket watch buried in the sand while walking along the beach. Its golden surface was smooth, but the hands weren’t moving. Curious, he wound it up, and the moment he did, the world around him froze—waves stopped mid-crash, seagulls hung motionless in the sky, and the wind fell silent. Heart pounding, he clicked the button on top, and everything rushed back to life. Realizing the power in his hands, he experimented, pausing time in small moments, enjoying a world where he was the only one in motion. But then, he made a mistake—he dropped the watch, and it shattered against a rock. The world remained frozen, except for him. Panic set in as he realized he had broken time itself, and he was now trapped in a world that would never move again.
fiction