#wander_lost_stories

[wanderloststories]

Iron maiden, Brugge, Belgium. "She looks so innocent!" Exclaimed one of the tourist. Alina turned around and said, "she does, doesn't she?" Her group of tourists nodded in agreement and huddled around her. Alina transformed her face into a somber expression, she looked around into their eyes, dropped her voice into a baritone whisper and said, "don't be fooled, for this here is the cruel iron maiden. There are many legends as to her origin, but a common theme across all of them. She entices you with her innocence, invites you into her bosom and embraces you to your death. The medival torture device that has captured the modern world's imagination, for it kills slowly and simply but effectively! Beware of the punishment of Iron Maiden" She was met with an applause and she took a bow. "Reminds me of my ex-wife", claimed the old man with a pink face. The men laughed, the women mumbled and Alina smiled the same smile she reserved for every time someone cracked this joke. The group left, she was tipped well and she bade them farewell. She bundled up her tips and walked back into the museum. As the official tour guide she had privileges at the museum. She walked back to the iron maiden and looked at her in awe. An innocent face with death inside. She'd always been curious about what was inside. Slowly she walked over and stepped inside the iron maiden. She barely fit. "Clearly, I am taller than medival folks" she joked to herself. She ran her fingers across the spikes, thinking of all the people they had pierced. There was so much death in such a tiny space. Her fingers pricked on one and a drop of blood fell on the floor. As the droplet hit the floor, Alina felt something move. A gush of wind, the sound of old iron turning and an eerie laughter of a sinister old woman. Alina was frozen inside, petrified. Slowly the maiden embraced Alina to her death. It wasn't just punishment that the iron maiden sought, she also found pleasure in pain. #wander_lost_stories #writersnetwork #writersofinstagram #read #readersnetwork #readersofinstagram #write #stories #shortstory #tales #tinytales #bruge #belgium #aroundtheworld #europe #ironmaiden #wanderloststories #storytime (at Brugge, Belgium) https://www.instagram.com/p/CFgVHceMqEK/?utm_medium=tumblr

[wanderloststories]

Jump, Sydney, Australia. He stood on the ledge staring at the wild ocean beneath his feet. It was almost as if he was at war with an invisible force. His thoughts were violent and his heart was pounding. In that turmoil, all of a sudden, he found a moment of peace. His face changed, he calmed down. He took a deep breath and jumped. And when someone jumps from a height like that into water like that, they don't die, they disappear. A few minutes ago, right before he had jumped, he had been walking on the bridge, alone, lost and with a note in his hand. A note that he'd stuck on the bridge right before he had jumped, a note that said, "life may seem random, but it's all just a vicious loop. The worst part is you do not know if your breaking the loop or initiating it." An hour before he'd been walking on the bridge he was running far away from something. His breath was fast and his eyes were wild with fear. A commoner on the street would have described his as a man overcome with madness. Half a day ago, before he decided to run from his reality, this man was sitting at a bar with a beautiful woman, sharing a drink, hoping to get lucky. She said she would let him on a secret that only a few knew. He wanted to hear it. She leaned into his ears and whispered, "no matter what you do, you're in the loop. Tonight, you will jump off a bridge." He had laughed in her face the first time she had said it but he'd ran from her the last time she said it. He hadn't stayed to hear her raspy laughter. 24 hours ago, before his rendezvous with the woman, when the sun rose and the day had just begun, he'd woken up from a really strange dream, a dream where he had jumped off a bridge into a dark abyss and he woke up feeling like he'd been choking. "Wow, was that all just a dream!" #wander_lost_stories #write #read #writersnetwork #readersnetwork #stories #shortstories #tinytales #tales #travelstories #sydney #australia #aroundtheworld #wanderloststories #bridges #darlingharboursydney #loop #dreams #jumps #strangestories (at Darling Harbour, Sydney) https://www.instagram.com/p/CF04nxMMMsP/?utm_medium=tumblr

[wanderloststories]

Jump, Sydney, Australia. He stood on the ledge staring at the wild ocean beneath his feet. It was almost as if he was at war with an invisible force. His thoughts were violent and his heart was pounding. In that turmoil, all of a sudden, he found a moment of peace. His face changed, he calmed down. He took a deep breath and jumped. And when someone jumps from a height like that into water like that, they don't die, they disappear. A few minutes ago, right before he had jumped, he had been walking on the bridge, alone, lost and with a note in his hand. A note that he'd stuck on the bridge right before he had jumped, a note that said, "life may seem random, but it's all just a vicious loop. The worst part is you do not know if your breaking the loop or initiating it." An hour before he'd been walking on the bridge he was running far away from something. His breath was fast and his eyes were wild with fear. A commoner on the street would have described his as a man overcome with madness. Half a day ago, before he decided to run from his reality, this man was sitting at a bar with a beautiful woman, sharing a drink, hoping to get lucky. She said she would let him on a secret that only a few knew. He wanted to hear it. She leaned into his ears and whispered, "no matter what you do, you're in the loop. Tonight, you will jump off a bridge." He had laughed in her face the first time she had said it but he'd ran from her the last time she said it. He hadn't stayed to hear her raspy laughter. 24 hours ago, before his rendezvous with the woman, when the sun rose and the day had just begun, he'd woken up from a really strange dream, a dream where he had jumped off a bridge into a dark abyss and he woke up feeling like he'd been choking. "Wow, was that all just a dream!" #wander_lost_stories #write #read #writersnetwork #readersnetwork #stories #shortstories #tinytales #tales #travelstories #sydney #australia #aroundtheworld #wanderloststories #bridges #darlingharboursydney #loop #dreams #jumps #strangestories (at Darling Harbour, Sydney) https://www.instagram.com/p/CF04nxMMMsP/?igshid=4kgapbzo0ve8

[wanderloststories]

Controller, Milan, Italy. "A normal day starts with a routine, I follow this routine religiously. But there is no origin, there is no end, just a journey that I am walking on. My life almost feels like it is missing a dimension, I can only move forward. If I mess up, I can't turn around, I go all the way back and I start over. I am in a constant state of deja-vu. Like I have walked on this path before, that I have jumped on this wall before, I have climbed these stairs, I have crossed this stream and I have fought these monsters before. I cannot explain, there is a music that plays in my head which tells me what's to come. Even when I sense danger, I cannot stop. I just keep moving forward. I must not mess up. There is someone at the other end waiting for me. I cannot fail, take the power, fight the enemy, run forward." His brother looked at him and said sympathetically, "But big brother why does this upset you?" Big brother said, "because I am in a constant state of running to something that I cannot see. I don't know my purpose, I just fight. I collect rewards on the way and I fight enemies, but I don't know why. I don't want to but I continue to kill. Only because they stand in my way. And I cannot turn around, you know because if I don't kill them I will die. And if I die my journey stops and then..." "... You have to start it all over again." Completed the younger brother. "And what a terrible life that is. Even death cannot help me escape. One journey, one direction and no reason why! Yet it keeps repeating and I cannot breakfree." The younger brother suggested, "what if you stopped?" "But I dont think I can!" "What if you tried?" "I have, I failed. I had to start again." "What if I went in your place?" "I think you do." The younger brother looked perplexed. There was a moment of silence shared between them. Mario put his arm around Luigi, "there is no answer, there is no escape, we have no control, just someone holding the controller." #wander_lost_stories #writersnetwork #writersofinstagram #write #read #readersnetwork #readersofinstagram #stories #shortstories #tales #tinytales #travelstory #aroundtheworld #milan #italy #supermario (at University of Milano) https://www.instagram.com/p/CFlluS9Mn-x/?igshid=4h40i1aajeez

[wanderloststories]

Iron maiden, Brugge, Belgium. "She looks so innocent!" Exclaimed one of the tourist. Alina turned around and said, "she does, doesn't she?" Her group of tourists nodded in agreement and huddled around her. Alina transformed her face into a somber expression, she looked around into their eyes, dropped her voice into a baritone whisper and said, "don't be fooled, for this here is the cruel iron maiden. There are many legends as to her origin, but a common theme across all of them. She entices you with her innocence, invites you into her bosom and embraces you to your death. The medival torture device that has captured the modern world's imagination, for it kills slowly and simply but effectively! Beware of the punishment of Iron Maiden" She was met with an applause and she took a bow. "Reminds me of my ex-wife", claimed the old man with a pink face. The men laughed, the women mumbled and Alina smiled the same smile she reserved for every time someone cracked this joke. The group left, she was tipped well and she bade them farewell. She bundled up her tips and walked back into the museum. As the official tour guide she had privileges at the museum. She walked back to the iron maiden and looked at her in awe. An innocent face with death inside. She'd always been curious about what was inside. Slowly she walked over and stepped inside the iron maiden. She barely fit. "Clearly, I am taller than medival folks" she joked to herself. She ran her fingers across the spikes, thinking of all the people they had pierced. There was so much death in such a tiny space. Her fingers pricked on one and a drop of blood fell on the floor. As the droplet hit the floor, Alina felt something move. A gush of wind, the sound of old iron turning and an eerie laughter of a sinister old woman. Alina was frozen inside, petrified. Slowly the maiden embraced Alina to her death. It wasn't just punishment that the iron maiden sought, she also found pleasure in pain. #wander_lost_stories #writersnetwork #writersofinstagram #read #readersnetwork #readersofinstagram #write #stories #shortstory #tales #tinytales #brugge #belgium #aroundtheworld #europe #ironmaiden #wanderloststories #travelstory (at Brugge, Belgium) https://www.instagram.com/p/CFgVHceMqEK/?igshid=mdln0441yjdt

[wanderloststories]

Harlot, Amsterdam, the Netherlands. Everyone called it the valley of lonely hearts. You could venture in on a boat, the loneliest of hearts out there and you'd end up finding a moment of love. Sam had failed in love over and over again. Sam's heart had faced enough rejection to physically feel the pain of a heart break. He collected his life savings and spent it all on a one way ticket to the lonely hearts canal. He found himself a boat for hire and rowed his way to the canal. There he stood waiting for the love he had been denied, crying tears of rejection and loneliness. Right at dawn he heard a soft voice. It asked, "do you seek love?" Sam responded, "yes." The voice asked, "is your heart broken?" Sam responded with a diffident, "yes." The voice asked, "do you want to be loved?" Sam said, "yes." The voice said, "I can offer you love. Two kinds- a physical one that will let you feel the warmth of a body. You will have my body, it will serve your purpose and give you what you seek. Or I could offer you my heart and my soul, an insight into why it is you seek love when you can't find it within. Weaker men choose one over the other. Gratification allows us to instantly fill a hole and survive a day. Stronger men choose the other. A choice to venture and find meaning beyond what we desire. I will leave it to you. Both bear a cost. One, cheaper and quicker. Another, expensive and harder. It's your choice, my love." Sam sat and weighed the options. Self loathing and loneliness were at arms. Eventually loneliness won. Sam spent the night with the best harlot in town. Sam could have chosen better. Gratification was always easier than instrospection, a trade secret the harlot kept close to her heart. #wander_lost_stories #writernetwork #readersofinstagram #write #read #readersnetwork #writesofinstagram #travelstories #traveltales #shortstory #tinytales #tales #stories #amsterdam #netherlands #aroundtheworld #travelstories (at Amsterdam, Netherlands) https://www.instagram.com/p/CFTkPfYsWUL/?igshid=1h0wffo51nll2

[wanderloststories]

The Prophet, Gujarat, India. Legend said that a prophet would cross the the desert of salt, as big as an ocean, and arrive and enlighten humankind. The legend had merely become a bed time tale that mothers and fathers told their kids. One fine twilight, everything changed. A woman walked into the world with bloody feet and parched lips. To observers and passersby, she had appeared out of thin air, to the skeptics she was a mirage. As the salt crunched under her bloody feet she walked up to the first man in sight and begged for water. She was presented with water. She then begged for food and she was given food. She then uttered, "bless you" and passed into deep slumber. Her bloody feet had left behind a path on the white salty terrain cementing her journey across the great white desert. No living thing had ever managed to survive the cruelty of the desert, only one who was blessed by God could achieve such a feat. Her story reached the rest of the world before she did. She was taken to the village, laid down on the bed made for the prophet and people waited for her to awaken them. The man who brought her water, found wealth and prosperity. The man who brought her food was cured of his disease. Soon she became the prophet that would save the world and humanity. Unaware she slumbered, something she hadn't done in a while. For the world saw a prophet who'd journeyed across hell, but in reality she was a woman who wanted to escape persecution, a woman afraid, a woman rejected. She would go on to teach the world kindness, accept the riches and the love that came with being a prophet and when someone would ask her how she survived the cruel white desert she'd say it was "God", but she'd know it was fear. She'd silently worship her God while they worshipped her. #wander_lost_stories #readersnetwork #readersofinstagram #read #stories #shortstories #write #writersnetwork #writersofinstagram #storytime #tales #tinytales #kutch #rannofkutch #india #prophets #messiah #aroundtheworld #tinytales (at Rann of Kutch) https://www.instagram.com/p/CD0KFTElfUB/?igshid=6zf8jukfcy8d

[wanderloststories]

Paradox, Berlin, Germany. The spray can emptied as he finished the dark red on the lips. His brother who sat against the wall looked over, "the devil? I thought you were making my portrait." "I was, I did." The brother laughed, "I am not a monster you know." The artist shrugged, "aren't you?" "I do what I am supposed to. If they misunderstand, is that really my fault?" "True! That's why I take from them what they want me to give. Because they never understand. What does that make me?" Asked the artist. "That makes you a paradox!". The brothers laughed. The artist, Hypnos, the god of sleep had dawned the human form of an insomniac artist who stole sleep and stole dreams. His brother, Thanatos, the Lord of death, had dawned the human form of the insomniacs brother. He was more powerful but his duty bound him to the carnage brought on by his brother. Together, they roamed the streets of the world, envying mankind and ridiculing it at the same time. In between, they'd bring death and chaos wherever they went. The envy came from mankind's mortality because it gave purpose to their existence. The ridicule came from the way mankind thought it understood dreams and death. Death was slow, a little everyday. Dreams were a plenty only till they'd be taken away. Mankind often lost their dreams before they lost their lives. A life without dreams is empty, purposeless and cold. That is the reason, it should have been Hypnos that they should have feared. But they made the devil out of the god of death. In reality, Thanatos brought them respite from the games Hypnos played. The artist and his brother walked around, finding more corners to paint. To herald the coming of the devil. For dreams had stopped long ago in this world awaiting it's death. #wander_lost_stories #writernetwork #writersnetwork #write #writersofinstagram #read #readersnetwork #readersofinstagram #stories #shortstory #shortstories #takes #tinytales #traveltales #travelstories #berlin #germany #streetart #greekgods #death #aroundtheworld #wanderloststories https://www.instagram.com/p/B9QoN86lXtj/?igshid=1xv7zivkslydg