fact or fiction
Is it a fact or merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores travel myths to help you avoid making that wrong turn.
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
Captain Blackthorpe
Captain’s Log, Day 45 at Sea: This storm has been raging for days. A bad omen, a storm sent straight from the anger of the gods. I fear we’ve been blown off course There’s no way to tell. Fifteen metre waves crash against the ship. The swells threaten us from all around like some smothering blanket. I tell the crew to remain steadfast and keep the promise of treasure beyond their wildest dreams in their black pirate hearts.
By Millie Schneider5 years ago in Wander
If These Dishes Could Talk
A noise comes thundering from afar. Whether it is rattling or ringing, I recognize this sound. A tradition held since 3,000 BCE, the Swiss collect all of the cattle from the high pastures of Grindelwald, and parade their way into the streets of Interlaken. Farmers use these cowbells to keep track of their herd, but I know this means my work day is finished. Seven o’clock right on the dot, the Swiss are never late.
By Adam Lerschen5 years ago in Wander
The Gift of Her Power
She remembered sitting in the worn leather chair, the coffee stain on his button up, and the rasp in his voice as he tore down the walls of her reality. “You’ll receive a sizable portion of your inheritance in the amount of $680,000 from your mothers estate and payments in the amount $20,000 every month from your trust until you turn 25. Additionally, upon your mother’s passing she directed me to give you this”. The lawyer turned to the bookcase behind his desk and pushed aside 4 large books to reveal a small hidden safe. He pulled a large,thick envelope from inside and on the front she could see her mother’s handwriting “for Seren.”
By Ashlee Marcoux5 years ago in Wander
Full Circle
Jane stepped through the door into the 16th century pub. Her red hair was frizzy from the drizzling rain. She paused to take in the ambience. There was a musty smell, entangled with ale that must be soaked into the very floor boards from the thousands of dropped mugs over the centuries.
By Tina Moore5 years ago in Wander
My Mrs. Williams
Sitting quietly in Brooklyn Heights public library Erica leans on her elbow, smashing her fist against a sore cheek longingly looking through foreign books like The Tale of Genji, Pedro Paramo, and The Posthumous Memoirs of Bras Cubas. She sighs glancing at the history book that has been glaring at her screaming “OPEN ME, READ ME, STUDY ME.”
By Adrien Celeste5 years ago in Wander
One For The Road
Chicago “My name is David. David Montrose.” He tried to say confidently. Maybe just go with David. He sighed. Then left the bathroom, grabbed his only bag, and drove to O’Hare. The car wasn’t his, but the FBI would take care of it. He parked at the airport, and made his way over to the Hilton across the street. He sat in the lobby, incredibly nervous. He was told to sit on the east corner sofas, as far away from the windows and open doors as possible.
By Katelyn O’Leary 5 years ago in Wander
The Word
Waking up on the floor of my newly renovated apartment. I notice my head is bleeding right above my eye. A little black notebook is laying on the blood-stained floor. The small, lined notebook is filled with blank pages. A chunk of pages have been ripped out from the back. Upon closer inspection the word FOR is lightly written but not fully legible. As I orient myself to my surroundings, I hear a swarm of people running around the apartment. I quickly run to the front door, checking the door is securely locked. The apartment is completely ransacked. Nothing looks familiar.
By Brittany Sauls5 years ago in Wander
