Mi primera palabra
Así no estaba la calle. Hay lumbre en los carros y en las casas; huele mucho a cohete. En el cielo vuelan esas cosas. Suenan como abejorros grandotes.
Category: Fiction
La bruja
The coughing came from deep inside her chest. It was intense, almost violent. La Bruja leaned forward, trying to calm the cough, holding a handkerchief over her mouth, but a dizzy spell hit her, and she found herself tipping over.
The Rules Don’t Apply
It’s been three days of isolation. They’re talking about building a trail through the state park so residents can get back and forth to civilization on foot. A helicopter is coming to evacuate the stranded tourists at Sorrento Lodge. The bakery is out of flour.
Now Entering Ayer
“What do you know about Aleph Syndrome?” Dr. Aristizábal averted Ivy’s penetrating gaze and began moving her hand away from her ear.
Sex In Spanish
You forget Juárez. You don’t even look over I-10 on your way to campus; for all you know, it’s still El Paso. El Paso, who birthed you, who took you in after the divorce and sheltered you in warmth, made you American, instead of Mexican, like your Father, but deep down you don’t feel like her offspring.
Lenguas
His tongues are powerful, with minds of their own, like three elephant trunks always dancing in the air. Not like they would ever cause any real damage, they just purple the skin.
Rafamania
That’s when I’m no longer just an ordinary ese who wound up in an extraordinary situation… I’m something extra.
The Girl in Bomba Dress
They were dancing, dancing, dancing African-Boricua music, taking them to palm tree’d places they’d never been, in Pittsburgh’s aching center, not worried about the time.
Sacrificio & When We Speak
When we speak our languages, we claim our culture; we claim what’s ours, and like our ancestors, when we speak, there’s power.
Girasol and Paloma
Nothing could hurt me, I got married to a man I didn’t know and certainly didn’t love.
Edgar Alvarado and His Mal-Sueño of Real Estate
The dreams will get worse, and you will never sleep very well. Actually, you’ll get to a point where you won’t sleep at all. This kind of mal-sueño really will kill you.
Ms. Perez Plans Her Funeral
Since she couldn’t dream about life, she decided to spend time imagining her death.
This Is the Marrow Bone of Miguel
Then he announced and repeated to anyone who would listen, anyone who could hear that he was there to save the one who wanted to be saved, the one who escaped before becoming rock in that cloistered village, where the land scorches like burning embers.
Novela
I hadn’t the strength to put it away, I hadn’t the strength to do anything with any of her things, except pack and place them all in the living room. The small ornaments, her sandals, her ugly old television. Her life. I wasn’t ready to let her go.