Tag: #shortstory

Telling people I am a Libra, is really just a short and lazy way of telling people I am unable to make decisions. I always crumble under pressure, I see the good in everyone even if it’s not there and...

for R.E.C. You’re seventeen years old and you’re having a bad day. Well, it’s actually another bad day, in a string of rotten months, in what is turning out to be a terrible year. But you don’t want to talk...

My husband, who we’ll call A, had the tree-house-and-bicycle adventures with his friends. The kind of adventures that we Latin Americans who grew up in the eighties dreamed about while devouring E.T. and The Goonies and a heap of buttery...

           She had a weakness for vegan women. She loved gorditas and flautas, tostadas topped with pig’s feet and pickled pork skins, pozole and birria, but she fawned over women with grassy breath, nourished on lettuce...

 A tiyanak! That’s what got that poor girl. Even the silent mouthing of the name “tiyanak” gave Julia goosebumps. She was staying with her grandmother, Lola Mina, for summer vacation. Lola Mina’s cook, Inday, was convinced this malevolent creature had...

The sun sets, welcoming the ethereal dusk that precedes velvet darkness. The nights before the new moon when the least amount of light drips onto Pachamama, those are the nights I offer my counsel. For hundreds of years since the...

During our lunch break, we could go outside when we are done. That’s what we usually did. I mean, who wants to sit in a smelly cafeteria after all? There’s a woman called la Llorona who takes children and drowns...

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...

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...