Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Wander.
A Finer Shade
An open double-hung window of an 11th story New York apartment was the doorway to a sailing wind from the deep blue gulf of night sky. Bronislau Kaper’s “Invitation” turned slowly with a flutter that made the lines jump like waves. Some of fear and some the sound of birds in spring crashed in war in him often.
By Miguel Maldonado5 years ago in Wander
Quiet Decisions
Muffled chirping tethers my conscience to a random awakening. Flummoxed on a molded grout lined restroom floor with a little black book I found hidden inside the wall, behind a loose fitted subway tile, I pat dry my saliva from the books pages. Reading it’s secrets with no name attached lead me to tuck the book into my back pocket as if it were mine. “What the hell? How did I end up asleep on the floor?”, I said, questioning my coffee barely sipped on, “Did she drug me”? At the sink hoping to wash away this perplexed sensation, a migraine whirled in without warning. Migraine to disorientation, I struggle to release the words “what is that sound”, as it thickens. It’s the chirping of European Starlings, amplifying just beyond those four walls as if I were in a portable hearing everything around. The sound shakes me to a cringe while I hold my head, spread my fingers through my hair and pull as I form a fetal stance to the trill of the Starlings, pounding in like a doctor in the 1960’s, performing a psychological demonstration with drills to the skull for behavioral corrections. I shout “AHHHHH!”, within the coffee shops claustrophobic restroom and jolt toward my escape by twisting the iron doorknob. Then shot silence with a high pitched ring similar to a audiometer. Nothing but a white balance coated my vision with a congeal breeze congruent to steps on Cornelia Street, New York City. The pigment-less bright slowly strained, in the most unforgettable fashion. Each dye orchestrated beauty as composed in the black book. There was a Norwegian pine scent, soft rainfall, distant lush forrest green, and serrated foothills layered in snow. Before me lied an icy dirt road illuminated in hues by a predominate pink flamingo sky where a trickling river by lavender, and an ominous mist near a lonely house rested at the river bend. In a far-reached field surrounding me on all sides, I take a couple of steps forward. Slightly flabbergasted, I double take back at the restroom and jokingly murmur “I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore”, as if someone were around to tune in. There was an oddly positive significance being there, felicity caved in as I begin to follow the road.
By Le'Jon Gonzalez 5 years ago in Wander
A Pink, Winter Coat Shell
Emotional and moody: Cancers tend to get their feelings hurt very easily and it is hard for them to get over it; they can be sharp and hold grudges. These people are generally very nurturing, motherly people with a great attachment to the home and family. They are seemingly just like a crab; guarded by a hard armor shell, that protects a soft and emotional inside. This shell is usually quite difficult to penetrate, but once you do, you become a part of the crab’s soft inside and are therefore treasured and guarded forever. A cardinal water sign, these people seem to be directly tied to the oceans, but they prefer basking on the hot sand to swimming in the seas. The pearl is their birthstone, their ruling planet is the Moon. The waxing and waning of the moon and the rise and fall of the ocean tides are as tumultuous and fickle as the mood of the Crab. They are deep and intuitive, often psychic or possessing a Sixth Sense. They are those who follow their heart instead their head.
By Dana Murphy5 years ago in Wander
Saved for a rainy day.
Long streaks of rain trickled down Juni’s bedroom window. “Is it even coming?” She sighed to herself, her eyes fixed on the empty driveway. Weather for the optimist. Finally, a dim light flickered through the foggy strains of water. She peered, hoping with her heart, her soul, could it be? She could hear the squeal of motor belts as an old van bounced over the muddy potholes. A frumpy figure clambered out the rusty door. Water trickling down their yellow rain hat and their emerald green wellington boots squelched as they approached her home. Juni’s eyes widen, lips separate, feet are swiftly placed down on the ground and quickly shuffle towards the front door. Upon her welcome mat in brown paper, dotted in droplets of rain is her future, hopes and dreams. She pulls her glistening eyes away from her much-awaited delivery, only to see the van creeping backwards towards the road. “Thankyou!” she yells as the squeal of belts become fainter and the van slowly disappears into the downpour. Inside she goes clutching the package as if it were the answer to all her problems. She places the package on the kitchen bench, uncrosses the bow and rips off the wrapping. A little leather hand stitched black diary is uncovered. She looks at the rickety dining table covered in dusty diaries that have ruffled pages and loose stitching. Juni pushes them aside and plonks herself down onto a chair. She smooths her hand over the soft leather and unlatches the brass buckle. Imagining herself becoming a famous writer and travelling the world. A desperate whisper escapes her breath, “This will be the story that sets me free.”
By Hannah Pearce5 years ago in Wander
Adventure Awaits
Plot: Alli is an unmarried 50-year-old English and History professor from Nowhere, Pennsylvania. Shortly after attending her mother's funeral, she finds a mysterious suitcase on the kitchen table containing $20,000 in cash, in multiple currencies, a passport, and a little black book. What follows is what can only be described as an adventure of a lifetime. Her task…scatter her mother's ashes in 4 locations around the world, all before April 21st! Is she up to the task? Will she make it to her final destination by the deadline? I guess you'll have to read and see…
By Overall Good Day Girl5 years ago in Wander
to late for the contest
The whole place was a dump. the town. the people. the weather. ‘what Am I doing here?’ My ego wondered. even the stray dogs look depressed, So did everyone standing around me. We all waited patiently for something or someone. An earthquake or a Spanish explorer. Something to move us from the spot we were standing. Even near death would be welcomed. everyone here knew it too but didn’t care to or couldn’t change it. Circumstances don’t change. Some souls are just built to pain. all the faces around me wore the same 'maybe next life' look. Wrinkled skin plus broken teeth, cherry noses and empty wallets.
By Craig Johnson5 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 Zisman5 years ago in Wander
