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Stephen Sanders is a student at Lander University and an ISA Featured Blogger. He is currently studying abroad with EuroScholars in Geneva, Switzerland.

I have been in a lot of airports. At first it’s frustrating, and even a little frightening. But the more you fly, the more you become accustomed to hubbub and interminable lines. Looking back on the first time I’d ever flown and how spastic the whole experience was, I’d like to offer my past self a bit of advice: (1) The moment you step through those glass doors, consider yourself a Stoic. (2) Stop thinking about the airport, and think about how amazing it is that you’re about to fly.

It’s really astounding just how mundane commercial flight has become. For most of human history, people dreamed about escaping into the skies; but Icarus’s wings melted too fast, and Da Vinci’s wicked-looking flying machines…

The Cliffs of Moher, located 3 hours from Dublin on the West coast of Ireland, rising over 750 feet at their highest point, are one of Ireland’s most spectacular sights!  As a day trip from Dublin, it makes for a long day (12 hours round-trip with stops), but an unforgettable one!  We were fortunate to have beautiful weather, a bit windy with temperatures near 70 degrees.  The rugged and stunning scenery was simply gorgeous!

Walking from one end to the other along the paths was invigorating after the bus ride…

I booked the trip through a company called Irish Day Tours and the guide’s accent was charming!  He warned against standing on the edges because tourists have either fallen or the cliff has given way.

My friend Teresa looking lovely as usual!

Here is the entire story—my glimpse of it anyway. I’ve added a final 100 words to make it a round 500.

Bejewelled and bedecked they trooped through the deep green light of the sea caves as if they were at court, accepting the homage of bass and flounder with blind arrogance, dead souls streaming from the wreck. Barnacles studded satins and silks; needlefish threaded through torn lace, bloodied and scorched.
“Where are you going?” the wanderer asked.
“To see the new queen crowned.”
The voices trailed away into a gargle of bubbles as a chasm opened beneath their dead, mincing feet. The wanderer turned his face into the glittering morning sunlight, brilliant as a shoal of minnows, and continued his journey.

She looked with scorn at the cortege that tripped and strutted on jewelled feet into the utter darkness. The ship emptied, poured out its cargo of dead souls, following…