CERULEAN DREAM
People marveled at the three-story house in the outskirts of Licey al Medio. The speed at which a group of men built the cinder block structure was unlike anything they’d ever seen. The home towered over the others on this...
People marveled at the three-story house in the outskirts of Licey al Medio. The speed at which a group of men built the cinder block structure was unlike anything they’d ever seen. The home towered over the others on this...
“Opportunities like this come once in a lifetime, Flavia,” said Marisol in an officious tone. She was holding one of Flavia’s hands and looking into her eyes as if she were disclosing the mystery of the Apocalypse. They had been...
I find the skull lying in a back alley. It has no eyes, but I know she looks at me—a timid shriek coming out of the darkness. Thick storms of brown and gray spill out of the trash as I...
Ni tan lejos ni tan cerca. “El Alto” me hace sentir como que aunque no estoy allá, nunca me fui. Un paseo astral por la media isla; un baño de pueblo. Me transporté, caminé por la República y por el...
A short story is a work of short, narrative prose that is usually centered around a single event, limited in scope as an introduction to such an event. In John Paul Infante’s On the Tip of My Mother’s Tongue, you...
It’s 8:30 a.m. on a Tuesday in May. My youngest, now 13, needs help setting up for the Zoom meeting his math teacher and I wrangled over so they can address how his dyscalculia is making fractions difficult. My...
We were driving somewhere on the New Jersey Turnpike. I was brand new to the States. Hell, I was so new that I still had the wrapping paper on me. We drove a nineteen ninety-something Volkswagen Jetta with...
It is a reminder that my parents did not just immigrate to Nueba Yol; they also time-travelled to a future time period where: machismo is less overt, gender norms are a decade or two more progressed, certain Spanish-to-English translations are...
Mami, ¿cómo se dice fountain? Pileta, muñeca. Pileta pileta pileta Oh right Don’t forget You might need to recall that word later Que bella es esa pileta ...
for my father, who wakes up in the dark, and through storm or errant sickness, must ferry strangers to whomever may be waiting for them on the other side. for my mother, who must don vest and name tag to...