Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Wander.
City of Temples
Henri stands in Siem Reap airport while his wife is detained at customs. The shiny floors and lush plants contrast the heavy military presence. Finally, she pushes forward through the crowds, her passport stamped “Welcome to the Kingdom of Cambodia”.
By Allison Lovejoy3 years ago in Wander
Win-Win Reincarnation
The notebook was black, very slim, and compact enough to fit into the tiny zippered section of her shoulder bag; safely concealed but close at hand. Per the rules, she opens the notebook at random and reads “Butch Slutsky” on page 19. Nothing else is written. Nothing else is necessary. Age, gender, race, religion are unimportant. The girl reads the two words again. What type of individual would answer to such a moniker? She pictures a beefy arm gesticulating toward an empty horizon as a liquid twang expounds the merits of raw land in a western or southern state. An election campaign poster involving mirrored, aviator sunglasses also comes to mind. Surely “Butch” is a nickname? The girl thinks about parents in general, shakes her head, and sighs. As if the world wasn’t cruel enough.
By Barbara Harrison3 years ago in Wander
Captain Blackthorpe
Captain’s Log, Day 45 at Sea: This storm has been raging for days. A bad omen, a storm sent straight from the anger of the gods. I fear we’ve been blown off course There’s no way to tell. Fifteen metre waves crash against the ship. The swells threaten us from all around like some smothering blanket. I tell the crew to remain steadfast and keep the promise of treasure beyond their wildest dreams in their black pirate hearts.
By Millie Schneider3 years ago in Wander
If These Dishes Could Talk
A noise comes thundering from afar. Whether it is rattling or ringing, I recognize this sound. A tradition held since 3,000 BCE, the Swiss collect all of the cattle from the high pastures of Grindelwald, and parade their way into the streets of Interlaken. Farmers use these cowbells to keep track of their herd, but I know this means my work day is finished. Seven o’clock right on the dot, the Swiss are never late.
By Adam Lerschen3 years ago in Wander
My Yellow School Bus
So I bought a little school bus (it was yellow) and I started driving it around Yellowstone National Park. I spent the summer mostly thinking about getting a job and smoking weed, and eventually it was late September and I figured I ought to drive south. There was this girl I knew in Prescott who I knew would smoke me out, and I thought maybe if I was in town I would get a chance to grow on her, so I parked my school bus early one Saturday morning in the parking lot of Hastings Entertainment Superstore. I had a little hot plate and a stack of wheat bread and tofu salami, so I sat around and cooked sandwiches while I was waiting for the store to open where she worked.
By Trent Kinnucan3 years ago in Wander
A Good Lead
It was springtime on the East Coast, and I had escaping on my mind. I had barely known my great aunt, but now an unexpected twenty grand inheritance from her was sitting in my bank account. This seemed reason enough to buy a ticket, pack a bag, and fly over a big blue ocean. I was now boarding a train in Amsterdam. With a tea tumbler, a camera, and some essentials in my bag, I selected a roomy seat at the back of an empty car. Settling in, I felt the nudge of something under my leg. I fished around and retrieved a small black notebook that was wedged between my velvety seat and the equally plush armrest. Inside were notes, dates, and names of people and places. The notes appeared to be in French, but I could decipher a few words. Inspired, I thought it would be nice to keep a similar record of my travels, and I had seen notebooks in the station’s gift shop. So, while waiting for the early morning train to fill, I hopped off and purchased a similar little black book.
By Annabeth Kress3 years ago in Wander
The Gift of Her Power
She remembered sitting in the worn leather chair, the coffee stain on his button up, and the rasp in his voice as he tore down the walls of her reality. “You’ll receive a sizable portion of your inheritance in the amount of $680,000 from your mothers estate and payments in the amount $20,000 every month from your trust until you turn 25. Additionally, upon your mother’s passing she directed me to give you this”. The lawyer turned to the bookcase behind his desk and pushed aside 4 large books to reveal a small hidden safe. He pulled a large,thick envelope from inside and on the front she could see her mother’s handwriting “for Seren.”
By Ashlee Marcoux3 years ago in Wander
Full Circle
Jane stepped through the door into the 16th century pub. Her red hair was frizzy from the drizzling rain. She paused to take in the ambience. There was a musty smell, entangled with ale that must be soaked into the very floor boards from the thousands of dropped mugs over the centuries.
By Tina Moore3 years ago in Wander
The Little Black Book
My existence is a small one, I have a hard cover, and my body consists of endless pages. I am a little black book that has a request of my writers in the front cover. That request is that they ink my blank spaces with their story of how abundance presents itself in their life, and what they do with it. I am passed from person to person, travelling the world to weave a collective tale of human greed and generosity. I can describe the human experience through feeling stories written on my pages. I want to know how different people think, and I want to change the lives of people I know will change the world for the better. The people who have a spirit as expansive as the universe. They are the ones who change the course of time. I have felt the tales of an elderly man who lived out his dreams and built a mountain village, a young woman who was a single parent living in New York city who used every cent to send her child to university. I have felt words written by people who used abundance to build castles, save charities, cure blindness, save the endangered Jaguar in Panama, build islands off the coast of Madagasca, recreate the intricate jewellery made by ancient Egypt Empires, build ships that shadow the titanic, start movements to fight for Indigenous People’s rights…
By Isabel Corkill3 years ago in Wander
The Deserter
Everything was covered in dust. It was a faintly reddish dust, similar to the colour of the bricks which lined my walls, but the dust that collected on the tables and chairs was a little darker. Sometimes when the walls would shake I could see the dust come free and descend through the air. The question had occurred to me before, but suddenly I needed to know the answer. I walked over to the processor and entered my inquiry, pressing each letter key precisely. There was a sliding mechanical snap when a letter was successfully submitted. The screen, from its own faint womb of copper powder, shone its thin light and a yellow arrow circling after its tail appeared, indicating that my question was in the process of being answered. Through my window I observed the city’s landscape of steeples and smoke. The processor trickled out little blinking sounds of electric thought. Somewhere I heard the engine of a delivery car strain. Soon the evening train would pass by and the last of the day’s dust would descend. I glanced back at the arrow on the screen turning in a steady roundabout. I picked up my Personal Finance report, fresh from the mailbox. According to my balance they still hadn’t fixed the error. Last month the Commission of Economic Stratification had deposited $20,000 into my credit account. My Citizen Stipend was $200. They were always making mistakes but never to this degree. I started to let myself believe the misstep would remain unnoticed. It would certainly change things. What is this dust? The yellow arrow circled.
By Kayla Whitney3 years ago in Wander