My Grandma Set Me Up With a Fake Doctor Named Kyle
My grandmother swore he was a tall young doctor. The man at the steakhouse was seventy, a retired dentist, and the scrubs photo was from a costume party. At least the steak was excellent.
Readers believed 80% of the time (across 2140 True/Fake verdicts on this author's stories)
My Maid Of Honour Read The Groom's Texts To Me An Hour Before The Ceremony
She did not want to. She said, "You will hate me for this and I have decided I can live with that."
The Girl I Babysat Drew Our Street And Put A House Where There Is No House Certified True by readers
Between number 14 and number 16 there is a garage. In her drawing there is a house, with a red door, and a woman in the window.
My Own Voice Left A Voicemail Telling Me Not To Take The Job Certified True by readers
Eleven seconds. My number. My voice. I still have the file and I have played it to eight people, and four of them will not talk about it now.
The Wrong Number Knew My Shift Pattern
It started as a misdirected delivery text. Then it started telling me when I would be home, and it was always right.
I Drunk-Texted My Boss "I Love You" And He Replied Like A Gentleman Certified True by readers
It was meant for my sister. It went to Derek, 58, in operations, who has a moustache and a fishing boat.
The Mother-in-Law Wore White And Called It "Oyster" Certified True by readers
It was white. It was floor-length. It had a small train. She called it oyster and dared the room to argue.
The Woman Who Tried To Cancel My Booked Removal Van So She Could Have It Certified True by readers
She rang the company pretending to be me. She had my name from the group chat and my slot from watching my drive.
She Demanded My Seat Because Her Son "Gets Sick Facing Backwards" Certified True by readers
The boy was nineteen. He was mortified. She was not.
The Hitchhiker Knew The Name Of The Dog That Died In 1998
I picked him up outside the park gate. Sixty miles later he thanked me by name — my childhood nickname, which nobody alive uses.
The Charity Shop Bought A Box Of Photos And One Of Them Should Not Exist
A 1974 family album, all seaside and haircuts — and one frame of a treeline where somebody has written on the back: DO NOT ENLARGE.
They Gathered at the Foot of My Bed and None of Them Had Faces
It was never just one figure. When I wake frozen there are several, thin and dark, crowded at the foot of the bed, leaning in together like mourners around a grave.
I Bought A Camper And Inherited The Previous Owner's Notebook
Thirty-one entries. Dates, times, and one word each. The last entry is in a different handwriting and says: THEY ARE FINE ABOUT IT.
