Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Wander.
Sandy Mary
The ball of fire stretches its many hairy arms behind the canyons ahead of the camp. Young lady Sandy is stretching her ghostly legs, the muscles of her face, yawning, dusting off the sand from her dark hair before she can tuck it back into her hat for the day. Old lady Mary is still asleep, lightly asleep like a good mare, using her stay apparatus to rest one of her back legs while the others endure. Sandy checks her boots for any possible creatures inside and, confirming it is safe, puts both feet in. She takes a noisy gulp from the Alabama stoneware ring-bottle, stolen from her family – as was the mare. Mary jumps at the sound, and so the ladies set out for breakfast.
By Ega Gabriella Valle Fabbriani5 years ago in Wander
Then vs. Now: Peace Corps Training
In March of 1961, President John F. Kennedy signed the Peace Corps into executive action. By August of 1961, the first wave of Peace Corps Volunteers arrived at their new country of home for the next 2 years. Since its inception 60 years ago, the training that Volunteers go through to prepare them for their new life in the Peace Corps has changed dramatically. When the organization began, a few training camps were set up at the United States to prepare the Volunteers over the course of 2 months for the living conditions and the work they would be doing. After training was completed in the United States, the trainees became full-fledged Volunteers and were finally sent abroad. I began my Peace Corps service in January of 2016 and was sent to Ecuador. My training started with something called Staging. My entire Omnibus met in Miami, got to know each other, and received our official documents and passports over the course of two days. Then we all boarded a plane together and flew the 4 hours to Quito, where we were picked up at the airport by the Peace Corps Ecuador staff to lots of signs, posters, and fanfare. Once in Ecuador, our Pre-Service Training lasted 3 months. In the early days of the Peace Corps, the Volunteers would arrive in country already sworn it and would often be greeted by top national government officials. I was sworn in at the end of the 3 month in-country training in a ceremony at the United States’ Ambassador’s house led by the Ambassador himself.
By Emily Boyer5 years ago in Wander
Café Iruña
May 1937 The two men sat in a booth in a dark corner of the Café Iruña in Pamplona. The half-booth was next to a window overlooking the Plaza del Castillo. One man sat in the bench seat with his back to the wall, he was brooding and handsome. The other man sat opposite him in a wooden chair. His back to the rest of the cafe, he spoke with words and hand gestures. He interrupted his speech with occasional scribbles on the tabletop.
By David Littleton5 years ago in Wander
Stroke of Luck
Opening the front door to Stroke of Luck diner, the bell jingles as Lauren shuts it behind her as she steps outside. Multiple grease stains litter Lauren’s black shirt, some more noticeable in the moonlight, the streetlamp next to the diner still broken, giving only the moon as light to lock the front door. She yawns, covering her mouth as she locks the front door to the little diner, her shoulders tense and in pain from carrying plates of food all day. She stretches her neck side to side to relieve some of the tension, but it is only temporary.
By Rachel Barbeler5 years ago in Wander
Lucky Day
Fraught with a case of the vapors after wandering drunk I stumbled upon a local cinema. Surely the cooling systems will provide adequate relief from this sweltering heat I thought. I notice the ticket booth is stationed outside and quite a distance from the actual entrance. No fear, I'm not that sweaty and this theater should be empty enough to not force a poor soul upon my saddening aroma. As I approach the ticket island, hoards of fellow moviegoers race in front of me to form a queue. Blast, the afternoon sun burns with the might of a thousand magnifying glasses stacked one atop another blazing down upon my face.
By Luis Jimenez5 years ago in Wander
When in Rome
The sudden discomfort of the park bench elicits more surprise than pain, but I cry out just the same shooting up from my anticipated resting spot. Jet-lagged and museum-weary I had neglected to look down. A small black Moleskine notebook with a gold fountain pen clipped to the cover now seems obvious. I look around for the owner. Most of the visitors have left, although a few remain on the benches bordering the tidy square that fronts the Borghese Galleries. The pathway leading into the wildly expansive public gardens is vacant. Rotating full circle, I see children lobbing acorns at protesting parakeets; a dog leaving a fresh lawn sculpture as its person chats obliviously on their phone; and a priest strolling in from the street, stopping to light a cigarette. For a moment he appears to be watching me, yet he looks away as our eyes meet.
By Laura Hanson Reber5 years ago in Wander
