literature

Travel literature includes guide books, travel memoirs and the curious experiences that happen when you seek adventure.

The Disenchantment
It was a postcard-worthy golden leafed autumn morning in Tasmania’s Coal River region. Hopeturn Village was picturesque in the soft morning sunlight. The main street, lined with quaint specialty stores packed with goods to tempt even the most frugal tourist with quality keepsakes, was a symphony of Georgian sandstone. With all its charm, none would have guessed at its colonial days of bondage and unhappiness. The moody, romantic tones of La Vie En Rose were softly floating out of the Antiques & Oddities Emporium, as a smartly suited man strode toward its doors.
By Helena Adeloju5 years ago in Wander
Jonie's Story
Jonie always sensed that there was an immutable energy created by the coexistence of two people, distinct from all others. For Jonie and Eir, theirs was an energy that sagged, bearing the weight of all-too-conscious sadness, which often brought their eyes together in brief painful glances, broken by heaviness. Jonie didn’t know why it felt as if they were always near the point of being scalded by the truth of things. Often they avoided discussing anything too burdensome particularly to maneuver away from its overhanging presence, and instead made jokes about the passersby or their clumsy endearing teachers or Eir’s silly dog who always came bounding by with a slobbered ball in his jaw to pierce through the weariness of their day. Still, though their mutual presence was always overhung by a dreadfully clear and ominous cloud, Jonie and Eir had an inexplicable desire to be as one as often as possible, excepting and occasionally forgoing sleep and meals and studies. They were lucky to not yet be at the age of necessary responsibility. They were unlucky to feel as if the pressure of everything and everyone was on their growing heads. They often liked to sit on the edges of bridges and piers so that their feet might hang loosely and dangle over nothingness, as if the overhead weight could be transferred down their body and dissipated through their liberated toes. Occasionally, Eir would point at distant lights and murky outlines and beg Jonie to make a story explaining their existence. “Oh, all right,” Jonie would say with a half-smile and a sigh, though in fact Jonie loved nothing more than to make meaning out of meaningless things.
By Lemon Pie5 years ago in Wander
Trust Me
It doesn’t get any crazier than this, but I’m telling you, this is what happened, I found myself saying to the officer.
By Danya White5 years ago in Wander
The Writings in the Wall
Thud. She had just taken out the last panel of rotten timber from the crumbling old wall when something heavy fell out from behind her. The sound disturbed her from the meditative state in which she would do this work.
By Eloise Watt5 years ago in Wander
Choices
Jenna pulled open the door of the old VW bus and nearly fainted from the heat and stench that wafted out. It didn’t help that the thing had been sitting on the vacant back lot of her parents’ Sacramento place for more than 10 years. Nobody had been in it since her grandad died five years ago. God knew what was inside. Grandma refused to let them get rid of it because it had been so special to him – and to her. She told of the trips they’d made in it in their late teens and early 20s – upstate New York, Canada, New Mexico. Gene always wanted Jenna to have that bus, Grandma said.
By Dana Griffith5 years ago in Wander
The Call of Fortune
Donna couldn’t believe it after nearly two decades; she was calling it quits. It was unfathomable to her family, friends, and devoted fans to think she had given up on her dream. How could anyone as prolific and awe-inspiring as she just walk away? Her best friend, Jonah, was livid when Donna broke the news to him. He refused to accept the fact that she’d divorced the one love she managed to sustain throughout her existence. Merely having this vision had saved her life. Donna couldn’t be serious about this at all! Donna’s community didn’t know to consider and possibly would never understand that she was answering to a different calling now. She didn’t fully comprehend her own decision, but she sensed that something deeper was now pulling at her heartstrings, a compulsion of sorts. Besides the call of a foreign desire, it became increasingly difficult to adequately express herself in a world of three-minute videos and 180 characters. Although she still possesses a keen knack for grabbing anyone’s eye in the eight to twenty seconds of attention most adults now allotted for interest in any single thing at a time.
By Cetrina Brent5 years ago in Wander
Inheritance in Twenty-Five Parts
I. My mother died alone in the hospital early on a Monday morning. I wasn’t allowed to visit. Even in my protective equipment-- my noisy plastic shield, my chafe-y white duck-bill of a mask-- the hospital turned me away.
By Jay Jarrett-Morales5 years ago in Wander
Flying Free is the Little Black Book and Me
The little black book landed in my lap at a time I needed it most. Anxious as I was in my "real life", when I was writing in that little black book, everything dissipated. It was in fact like it was magic.
By Kim Robinson5 years ago 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
The Venetian Last
‘Okay mom I have to go’ Jenni mumbled whilst laying her head down on the soft pillow beneath her. ‘It's already 11pm here and I’m tired from the flight’.
By Mayudi Patel5 years ago in Wander
How To Be Rich
Small brass discs. Five of them to be precise. This is how much Sam’s existence was currently valued at. Rarely more, often less.
By Emily Pearson5 years ago in Wander
Palmero
Spencer and Elsie Charals had started their trip around the world six months ago, when they had quit their jobs, sold their home and bought a 30-foot sailing yacht. The fast pace of working upwards of 70 hours a week had got to both of them. They knew that it was a risky move, but they were confident that they’d never regret taking the time while they were young enough to do it. There fully stocked yacht had enough supplies to last 3 months at a time. As they were heading to Greece, they had hit bad weather in the Mediterranean Sea and had to divert to the closest port of entry in Palermo, Sicily, known for its history with corrupt mafia.
By Lesley Raymond5 years ago in Wander