These aren't the stories your mother told you.

No, these are the other stories.

Pulse, written by Daniel Wilcox, narrated by Ian McEwan.

We were right about one thing, at least.

I remember thinking that from the moment we shut the door behind us, jingled

the keys and set out on the road. A car full to the brim of luggage, hopes, love. Two children

cramped in the back. That funny little thought that now seems magnified tenfold.

This is going to be our last vacay for a while.

What songs would you like to play? I had said to Dmitri and Dana,

hand already reaching for the party pop classics CD we'd bought specifically for the occasion.

Haley, my wife of nearly 20 years, rolling her eyes in the seat beside me.

The kids laughed, called for the jams at the same time,

then spent the next two hours punishing their lungs and throats

as they sang at the top of their voices, and the CD looped on repeat.

Before long, the housing estate blurred to rolling countryside as we set out to Dover.

It seemed so funny remembering that now.

It had been several hours since we had all stopped screaming,

switched off the radio, and drove in silence.

Just ten hours ago, our trip seemed a simple one.

Something recommended to us from our neighbors' two houses over,

a cheap alternative to a Thompson mega deal in the Canaries.

Just drive, Clint. That's all you really need to do.

...