travel
Family travel is complicated. And sometimes fun.
The Hunt
The night before, John P. Davies was getting things together. He was finalizing the details of the clues in a little black notebook. When he was finished, he placed the bookmark inside and closed it. He placed the book on his desk, along with last will and testament, drawings and other maps construed among the desk.
By Audrea Lynn Mann5 years ago in Families
Dear Alice
Dear Alice, If you are reading this, true to cliché, I must be gone. I have left something for you. I know you will figure it out, you were always a smart one. I want to have one final adventure, but be kind to my memory, sometimes we don’t get to choose our path.
By Karolina P5 years ago in Families
10:05 to Heathrow
Colin clenched his fists and closed his eyes. He had read an article on conscious breathing and decided to try. He took a long, deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. His eyes were still closed but he could feel it. Wheels up. They were off the ground.
By Andre Hilliard5 years ago in Families
Unfinished
March 12, 2021. The long-awaited day. Today I dare to say that luck, or perhaps my never-before recognized gifts, could change my life. Today is the day I dial the foreign number belonging to the child I haven't seen for far too long... For as long as, there’s not only a legal jargon keeping us apart, but also the abysmal distance between two non-allied countries. Not to mention the restrictions of a pandemic and a sum of money I never manage to save, but that would solve everything... Because money opens doors, oh yes, it doesn’t buy happiness they say, but it surely buys those who can give it to you. For years I’ve tried to buy mine but, after endless dreams and unfulfilled promises, thousands of hours worked and 20 books published without the expected success, the $20,000 prize of this literary competition is the only remaining path between my family and me.
By Medusa Stone5 years ago in Families
Imagine suffering from extremely bad health then waking to the “BEST HAPPINESS THERAPY”
After serious complications during surgery, lying in recovery mode in hospital, the phone started ringing. Karin answered, then a gentleman proceeded to inform Karin, that she was the lucky winner in the BP raffle she had entered, with a prize of either her desired trip on the Orient Express or $20,000 was hers. Karin said, thinking this was a Hoax, YEA RIGHT and hung up.
By Karin Carter5 years ago in Families
Ship of Dreams
Grandfather Thomas stepped foot on the deck of the ship. It was a ship that had been in his dreams almost his whole life. Thomas's four grandsons had begun to build it exactly one year ago. They used the details that were, written by their grandfather's own hand in a black leather-bound book that he always had on his bedstand.
By Beverly Severin Fearon5 years ago in Families
I Was Bought Twice
I Was Bought Twice It all started when my mother invited me to diner. I didn’t know what to expect but contempt. I was right. That night, she wanted me gone for good. First, my birth parents and now the adoptive one. She told me politely to accept this twenty thousand cheque and leave somewhere else, travel, whatever as long as I would feel something. She was inventing something just to hide the real reason.
By Cristina Garant5 years ago in Families
Old Soft Bristles
The first few days were weird. I hadn’t realized how introverted I had become, how much time I had spent at the nursing home with grandma. I stayed in bed until eleven. There was no need to get a job, not for a long time. I did nothing but sit in the sun. Around two, I went to a coffee shop up the street from my apartment, had a rose and cardamom latte and a bowl of granola totaling $23.45. I figured I could spend that kind of money on granola now. It was nothing to the new bank account, but never having more than three thousand to my name after years of working, it still felt like a sin. I drew a swirl of lines and scratches along the page of my sketchbook. I drew the static-like dots I see when I look up at the sky. I drew these things, because I didn’t know what else to do. In elementary school, I would make frequent visits to the underpaid counselor and would annoy her with things like, “I just don’t know what to draw.” My tubes of paint sat in their drawers. My brushes in their cups. I didn’t want to do anything except sit there. It wasn’t until day four, that I decided to open my grandma’s little black book.
By Nick Blocha5 years ago in Families
The Little House in the Rocky Mountains
I still remember how it felt, when I was 5 years old and we’d make the 10-hr drive through the winding highways of the Rocky Mountains. For some reason when I think back to that drive, I always remember it during winter, and at night. I guess because those times we did make the drive during the winter months were the most memorable. The sky-scraping mountains covered in pearlescent white snow; the thick sea of evergreens capped with fresh powder; the “S” shaped road constantly twisting and turning, our suburban hugging the side of the mountain, a sheer drop toward the valley on the other side. Sometimes I would nod off so the drive would pass by faster, other times it would snow and I would be wide awake. I may have been young but I was keenly aware of the times I’d heard my parents talk about the fatal crashes that happened on the icy Trans-Canada Highway. The breathtaking scenery, the adrenaline rush of traveling at 100+km/hr halfway up the side of a mountain. It was all part of the journey. Of my favourite journey, the one that went home.
By Samantha Kaszas5 years ago in Families
