fact or fiction
Is it a fact or merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores travel myths to help you avoid making that wrong turn.
The Need For an Adventure Will Get Me Killed
I find myself following him. After passing a red-marked tree, he takes a sharp left and stops. There is an old-looking small caravan standing behind a rusty short fence not that far from the campsite. Hidden in the corner of a forest, visible only as a result of the moonlight shining through the branches. Creepy. Dark.
By Lili Grosserova5 years ago in Wander
A Hairy Encounter With a Canadian Wilderness Legend
Something’s been here Here, where there is never anything but me. The beach isn’t mine. It doesn’t belong to anyone, which means it belongs to everyone. But it’s only me who comes here. In the Canadian winter, this huge lake is free of ice and free of people. When I visit to drink in the silence, I remain undisturbed. The firewood I keep in a cave is always ready for me to use on my next visit. The fine pebbles are unscarred by footprints. The beach may not be mine. But it feels like it.
By Ryan Frawley5 years ago in Wander
The Fabulous Table Lady of Atlantic City Part 3
The Fabulous Table Lady Of Atlantic City Part 3 Rocco and The Little Wonder Cruise Pacific Avenue “Not too fast,” The Little Wonder protested as Rocco yanked him feet first from under the hood of my 1976 Chevy Impala. He was the smallest of all three of us and was able to reach down into the engine and adjust the fan belt so we used him as our human fix-it tool for minor auto repairs. We didn’t want to attract any more attention from the police as they were always on the lookout for our car, “the rattle trap,” as they called it.
By John Bowen5 years ago in Wander
Mystery Sea Island
Tuesday - June 2018. Peter Scott, my husband of six years, stood anxiously in line with me as the morning sun rays beamed on our tattered carry bags. “Naomi, are these all of the bags you’re bringing?” Peter said. “I’m shocked.” I didn’t want to make a scene since I was raised to be a lady at all times. “Peter, we’re only traveling for a week.” I responded carefully. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” The line begins to move forward as Peter quickly grabs his blue duffle bag and I reach for one of mine. We move with the other anxious vacationers, then he notices my other bag. “I guess you need a little help, “, he grunts. “This one is for the books. Just two bags.” Ten A-M on the dot and we arrived at the check – in counter. Farrah, the ticket lady, as her badge read, met us at the desk. “Welcome to Mystery Sea Island. May I have your tickets, please?” Peter reaches into his left back pocket of his khaki shorts and gives Farrah two paper tickets. “Thank you”, said Farrah, “we know you will both enjoy this one-of-a-kind experience.” Our faces lit up with charming smiles as we started to walk through the metal counter bars, carrying and toting our bags with us. Before us was a long concrete tunnel with gobs of green, bluish algae-looking paintings on the walls, ceilings, and floors, coated with bluish paint underneath. Strange oceanic plant life hung from above and grew up the walls as we the strolled along the tunnel. Other tourists were following us and a few were gazing from behind. As we walked closer to the end, we could see out of carefully spaced windows on the left side of the wall. I walked closer to one of the windows to take a peek the other side, I tiptoed slightly to get a good view and adored the sun’s glowing rays on the Atlantic. It captured my attention. Peter stood close, but I signaled to him to take a glance. His six-foot frame allowed him to just peek through the window without tiptoeing. We both focused on the one object sitting in the middle of the ocean. “You think this is our ship?” I asked Peter. A voice from behind Peter and I spoke quite powerfully, “Nope! This one just left the port. Ours is the next one.” Peter and I looked at the man who responded. He was obviously a tourist as well, dressed with the typical khaki shorts and a plain, dark blue, oversized, slightly worn t-shirt. “I take it you’ve been on this voyage before?” asked Peter to the tourist. “Yes, a total of five times, but never this particular mystery. It stimulated my brain after I retired a decade ago as a Humanities professor. What brings you here?” Peter answers, “My wife, Naomi and I are adventurous. I’m Peter.” The gentleman offers his hand. We left the window and continued down the colorful tunnel. “Hi, Naomi.” He gently reaches over to shake my hand. “Hello, sir.” I exchanged a hand shake with the stranger. Peter, now leading the conversation, “we’ve been married for six years and my wife is in school to become a psychologist. I’m currently in law school.” Excitedly, the gentleman says, “well, it’s nice to see a future doctor and a lawyer coming to solve a good mystery!” I exclaimed, “Indeed…I have been waiting for this…” Peter interrupts, “...you know, I did not catch your name, sir?” I felt a bit of a gut punch when I was interrupted, but this was for a good reason. “How rude of me” in his kind voice, “Professor Polk. My students gave me the name in my thirty-five-year teaching career. It just sticks to me so I just refer to that. Otherwise, it’s just Thomas, Thomas Polk.” His genuine smile made us feel comfortable to continue walking with him. “We waited for a full year to book this trip. My wife bugged me to not forget.” I snarled at him. “This was mutual, Professor Polk.” I said in defense of myself. Professor Polk answered, “No need to explain. This is a very busy tour, especially during this time of year. The northerners come to vacate and the southerners come to have a little adventure without the long traveling distance. Are you from this area?” Peter answers, “Yes, we live about two hours away in North Florida.” Professor Polk looks at back at Peter, “Ah, the first coast, very nice beaches.”. He switches his bag to his other arm as we approach the end of the tunnel, only to find another check-in area. The painted walls now appeared in a solid coral color. Peter approaches the new ticket lady, sitting on a stool, dressed in a blue blazer and jeans, holding a book to her face. “Hi, are we headed in the right direction?” Peter asks. “we’re here for the sea mystery trip.” Her eyes shift from her book to Peter as she stares at our belongings. “there’s only one way into the ship. Keep walking.” I clutch myself closer to Peter as we bump into each other while keeping our bags close. We passed the nonchalant ticket lady and kept walking until the tunnel takes a turn to the left. “Did you see her, Peter?” I asked curiously and suspiciously. “Something feels weird since the walls changed colors. What an extreme change, don’t you think?” I expressed. “It doesn’t feel that different to me.” Peter said, “Just a color change and a ticket lady with a boring job. We seem to be moving closer to the ship. By the way, I never answered your question.” Peter had a way of remembering conversations when he wasn’t able to see he was truly the winner. “What question?” I asked. “Whether I complimented you about carrying so few bags?” I couldn’t believe he wanted to readdress that lame subject. “Go ahead Peter, you know it was intended as a joke, or so I would think so.” A larger window appeared to the right of the new tunnel and we could see the ship more clearly. “I did.” Peter gently responded. He gave a snarly smile and kissed me on my cheek. All of a sudden, we heard loud voices coming from down the tunnel. We couldn’t tell if they were cheering or howling. It was just noises. We looked behind us and realized more tourists had caught up with us, so we decided to walk a little faster. Peter gasped for a moment, “Oh my God, I just realized, what happened to Professor Polk?” I almost felt another gut punch because I didn’t even realize he wasn’t with us. “You’re right, he seems to have disappeared. He’s been on this trip so many times, perhaps he went another way.” Peter quickly reminded me, “That couldn’t be because remember the ticket lady said there was only one way on the ship.” I began to wonder if the mystery had begun now or if we were headed for a surprise once we boarded. Finally, we saw where tourists enter to board the ship. “Peter, I think this is it.” I was so excited and shook up from the creepy ticket lady to missing Professor Polk. Peter thought it would be a good idea to maybe ask the people behind us if they saw an average looking guy, about in his 60’s wearing khaki shorts and a dark blue, oversized t-shirt walking around, but all of a sudden, THE SOUND! Shouts of horror came out of nowhere! Peter and I felt an immediate, strong pull of air drawing us downward into another tunnel. This time, the tunnel was dark and no matter how hard we pulled away, we couldn’t stop it. “Naomi, grab on to me!” Peter yelled. With lightning speed, we were tossed into a dark dungeon-like space with other tourists. Our bags were surprisingly clung to our bodies. We adjusted them so we could feel our way through the dimly lit area. People were crying and occasionally, we would step on a hand or a foot, but the space was large and we could still walk around. “I’m sorry, sir…. ma’am, I’m sorry.” I tried to acknowledge every person when I stepped on a hand or a foot. The noises in the room were from eerily quiet to an occasional scream, but that wasn’t the noise we heard earlier. “Stop apologizing! I see a light.” Peter exclaimed, as he was frightened as well. His palms were sweaty as I tried to stay as close as possible to him. As the light became more apparent, we found ourselves standing in front of a very tall curtain. “The light is behind this curtain.” Peter said. “I hope this is our way out of here!” I shouted. “Let’s pull it back and see.” Professor Polk’s face appeared on the ground as he grabbed our legs and shouted, “NOOOO!” We were both startled, but in our nervousness, we grabbed the middle of the curtain and pulled it back to find….my alarm went off.
By Sherrie Roberts5 years ago in Wander
The Keeper of the Creed
She stood facing the wind and wrapped her coat close around her body, though it did little to ward off the bitter chill. The bow of the ship rocked in the waves as she bared down more firmly on her feet trying not to stumble. Looking out on the horizon she caught glimpse of what she thought was a ship, panic instantly rising in her chest. Realizing that they couldn't possibly know she was gone already, she allowed herself to relax a bit. Her eyes must be playing tricks on her.
By Kelsey Neff 5 years ago in Wander
VESTRIBYGD
From the stone cover of the ruins, two hunters watched eight men spill onto the ice-littered shore from a landing craft, which they pulled aground with them. A ninth, one with poor balance, stood up in the boat and fell immediately into the shallow water. The foreign wretch crawled ashore as if pinned beneath great weight, then rolled onto his back and thrust his hands skyward. Anda and Minik's own hands tightened on their bows as this sick man began bellowing as if he were a snared animal. Another of their number, towering even among the hairy outlanders, dragged the howling man further from the sea and silenced him with three heavy slaps. The boatmen had arrived from their lands in a tall, boot-shaped craft anchored in the bay, and wore what Anda recognized as the clothing of the intruders who fashioned these once upright ruins so many generations ago. Clothing the builders had buried their dead in, made of the hair of their animals and not skin. Useless in any rain or wind. Anda pitied them their inferior technology, but understood as his ancestors had that these invaders were men too stubborn to accept any knowledge that was not their own.
By Tom Trainor5 years ago in Wander
A Fantasy Pirates Life
Every since I watched the Goonies and Pirates of the Carribean, I have always wanted to be a pirate. I thought it would be fun to sail around on a big beautiful Ship like the Black Pearl or The Majestic "Inferno", but if I am going to do something like that I need to be realistic about it. First of all, there are no restrooms on a pirate ship! nor are there showers, and the captains quarters are not very accomodating for a woman who expects to be treated like a princess! Yes, I said "expects" because I am a spoiled brat! My husband makes sure I have any and everything I need, not want, but need. If I want something and I can prove it's usefulness, then he won't argue with me about it, because I am unfortunately known for buying things that I "need" and as time goes on, they sit collecting dust, until I give them away or sell them. As he says "but you just HAD to have it" so I am not allowed to buy it unless I can prove it's use, which is fair, and saves money.
By C. M. Sears5 years ago in Wander
Fair Winds
The crisp salty air flows like a magical dance with the ocean. The sight is the perfect marriage to the well-known pirate; Captain Jonathan H. Steele. He stands before the bowsprit of his ship, “The Cutthroat,” looking out to the distance. He feels that cool breeze flow through his thick, black, shoulder-length hair while his tricorne hat nestles snuggly on his head. His suntanned harsh-looking face shows the exposure of the sun while his sea-blue eyes tell many-a-tale of his great adventures. But nothing is bigger to the latest adventure he is about to embark on.
By Erika Ravnsborg5 years ago in Wander
This was the trial.
There it was, the ship from my youth. Off in the distance sailing north towards what we thought was the right passage to Arcadia. The home of wits and brawn. They said Arcadia holds greater power than Kings Archipelago. I don’t believe them. You see Arcadia was the known myth around the chain of islands; you not from KA if you never heard the tale of Arcadia. Wait, you never heard the tale? Well, I guess we got some time before I tell y’all what it’s like.
By Bryce Cousins5 years ago in Wander
Honeymoon Horror
“You stupid bitch!” I hear the slap across my face even before I feel the horrid sting of his touch. He turned and stormed out of the penthouse as I ran up the stairs to the loft. Curling up in a small, tight ball on the bed I feel the hot tears trying to drown me. I gasp for breath between my cries so hard that my ab muscles begin to cramp. Breathing is even more difficult as I try to stifle the movements.
By Vicky DiMichele5 years ago in Wander
Dark secrets of deep sea
Over two thirds of the Earth's surface is beneath the sea, yet 95% of it stays neglected to the natural eye. Albeit the frequently heard measurement is that we find out about the outside of Mars than we do about the sea seabed, researchers have had the option to plan the whole sea floor yet the goal is amazingly poor, so we can just imagine highlights bigger than three miles. Continuous exploration like Seabed 2030 expects to bring the sea depths into more prominent center, so we can more readily see and comprehend what's truly down there. For the time being, we can simply wonder about the most shocking remote ocean sights on the planet.
By Sakthi murugan5 years ago in Wander
Tales On The Fly
The creeping greenery slowly--methodically--closes in on the lonely stone. For years they have held their positions, neither showing their cards or looming intentions. With all the chaos of the surrounding wood providing endless opportunities for advancement in distraction, none have shown the slightest hint of making good on it. They have only held to their own steadfast movements and machinations, giving no hint of their desires to the wide-eyed sychophants that surround them.
By Ad-Libbing With The Z-Man5 years ago in Wander
