Morning skewers the blinds. The heat of the sun on the lids of her eyes and the rooster’s belligerent crowing urge Camila out of bed. Stray curls are sent into a tiny frenzy when the whir of the fan oscillates in her direction. Her weary eyes widen at the lilting sound of the greca’s whistles [….]
The Gift-Francisco Martinezcuello
Published on :Elpidio is ten years old, the youngest of the three siblings and the only male in the household. Estefani is the eldest sibling at age fourteen while the middle child, Melosa, is exactly three hundred sixty-seven days older than Elpidio. They live in a two story colonial style house attached to the corner hardware store [….]
Ayer, cuando yo era Dominicano-Henry Francisco
Published on :Cuando era dominicano, viajaba cada diciembre a la isla, con cuatro maletas llenas de escombros y cadenas prestadas. Cuando era dominicano no hacia fila y me convencieron de que eran mis enemigos los haitianos. Cuando era dominicano no dejaba dormir a los vecinos con la bachata del Mayimbe a to’ lo que da, sobornaba a [….]
And then we were Nothing-Angela Abreu
Published on :I set the book down, even though this is the third time I read it, I’ve yet to grow tire of reading the same lines over and over again; they seem poetic to me, “The End of the Affair,” words I could relate to so well, reflective of past love affairs that eventually met their [….]
La High Class-Fior E. Plasencia
Published on :You woke up at 2 p.m, something you do after you got the night job at the restaurant. The sun was out. The city, Gotham, was still intact; the skyline full of crucial lines, people screaming for no reason, and the train going uptown leaving citizens behind. Everything was ordinary, average means that everyday was [….]
In Transition-Pilar Gonzalez
Published on :The 90s The United States saw an exponential increase in technologies. Beepers, basic cable, behemoth-sized cellular phones, and computers that have since been fossilized. Vanilla Ice, old school hip-hop, and gangster rap. Overalls and innocence. The 90s birthed a generation in transition—one that would, one day, juggle between manual labor and auto-correct. 1992 I became [….]
Oscura Amiga-Natalia Alonzo
Published on :La luz se filtraba por las ventanas de la habitación de Gabriel, recordandole que las horas pasaban, que el sol iba descendiendo y pronto llegaría la noche. Esa noche, la que había estado esperando con ansias. Se calzó los pies con unos tennis, recogió uno de los polos que tenía esparcido sobre la cama, se [….]