literature
Travel literature includes guide books, travel memoirs and the curious experiences that happen when you seek adventure.
Hide and Seek
The beginning of summer vacation has always been Mwanga’s favorite time of the year, and although he felt the same excitement as years past, there was no denying that this year would be different. Since schools shut down in response to the pandemic, he hasn’t been able to attend virtual learning on a regular basis. Partially due to the fact that their WiFi often doesn’t allow them to log online without lag; and he has to share the laptop with his brother and mother who is currently job hunting. Lately Mwanga’s parents have been arguing a lot more than usual. They do their best to ensure that the children aren’t disturbed with their issues, but they’re also unaware that Mwanga has trouble sleeping, and is often wide awake and can clearly hear their voices through the thin apartment walls.
By Joe Djanga6 years ago in Wander
From sick to "Well"
At a stoplight, she sits. Waiting. Sipping cold coffee, she begins to make love to the Marlboro man. Her eyes have turned from red to green. Finally, she is moving. Creeping his slowest creep, Satan sits in the car in front of her. Blowing his toxins. Her complexion feels violated, as her nose begins to flood.
By Katie Sweet6 years ago in Wander
SARAH NADER HEART’S LITTLE BLACK BOOK SNAFU
Hello my name is Nare Ator and I'm going to use my super deep lusciously soulful voice to guide you through this story of money, love, revenge, envy, and other clichés tropes. Throughout the story I’ll have moments of omniscience which I’ll put into () you can skip over those but they will contain little bits of information that add absolutely no depth to the amazing journey we’re going on. Buckle up and get ready for a story of a lifetime.
By Femi Orukotan6 years ago in Wander
Wayward
You’re in the jungle looking for your brother. At night, you sleep in a hammock hung between two trees. You use a machete to clear all the plants low enough so that they don’t poke into your back or tear the mosquito netting you pull around the hammock like a cocoon.
By Siegfried Huffnagle6 years ago in Wander
The Rest of Us
I started leaving Savannah paper cranes when she asked what hope was for the first time. That morning, on her sixth birthday, I placed a paper crane on her windowsill. From then on, every time she asked, I would leave her one, even when she did not know she was asking. I heard her when she failed her first middle school math exam, and again when her grandmother passed away. I heard her when she did not get into her first choice college, and when she graduated from her second choice. I heard her when she laughed in love and when she cried because she thought heartbreak was the worst pain. And, when she spent three days in a hospital bed, when she just needed to find the end, I heard her. Then, I heard her recover. Find a job, and for a while, she was quiet. But, still, I was there. Like a human choking, coughing is a sign they are alright, but silence. Her silence worried me, and love, my love for her captured me. And so, even when she is silent, I am there.
By Talia Zisman6 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 Harrison6 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 Kinnucan6 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 Corkill6 years ago in Wander
Little Black Book
Little Black Book I am a retired single woman who travels moderately to visit my children. Before all departures I check the front compartment for the nicely tucked barf bag. Funny, but you never know when turbulence is going to hit, again and again! It was a Sunny afternoon, and I anticipated a calm flight. However, I did check in the front seat compartment for my trusty bag. I looked in and saw a small Moleskin Black notebook tucked tightly in the bottom. I reached in and pulled it out. I looked around at everyone putting their bags in the overhead compartments and settling in for the flight. I looked to see if I was in the correct seat, thinking I sat in the wrong one. As everyone was settling in, I took it upon myself to open it. Inside was a cashier check for $20,000! It was a blank one at that! My heart started racing, I looked up to see if anyone was watching me. I moved the check aside and found a list of people’s names and addresses. Next to each person’s name was a little information about them. One said James Doran of St. Paul. The next Rebecca Anderson also of St. Paul. The list had 8 names and different locations.
By Kari Malewska6 years ago in Wander
Uncovered
I feel the cold down my spine as I enter. The chill, the tension, it all rests here to haunt me as I make my steps within. I keep telling myself that exploration is a good thing, uncovering whatever lies in your path. And yet, this strange, lonely bookshop took it to a whole other level.
By Davion Moore6 years ago in Wander
Silence
I was nine years old when the seven-seven bombings happened. I don’t really remember anything about that day. My family didn’t personally know anyone who died. There was one thing, though, that we all took from it, etched into our heads like an unspoken rule: An abandoned bag on a train is no longer just a mild inconvenience to its owner, it’s a genuine cause for widespread panic. Any other time I would have pulled the alarm immediately, but something about the circumstances made me hesitate…
By Ingrid Allan6 years ago in Wander
