Cabriolas
By: Carlos Martín Briceño
They seem disgusting and dirty;She says that she is tired of cleaning the feces that drop from the ceiling fans and hearing them during the early morning.She is really dumb my wife, she should be happy: thanks to them I have not left the house.Yesterday, during dinner, Ofelia made a capital tantrum.
A small whitish excrement on the edge of its cup of coffee with milk unleashed its hysteria.He pounded his hands on the glass that covers the table: "I'm up to the mother of those disgusting bugs!"I ignored.I struggled not to smile and limited myself to engulfing, without looking up from the dish, a bite of the delicious spinach omelette that she had prepared to celebrate our anniversary.What made me look up the first time I discovered them was their vivacity.
I vaguely understood its hidden purpose: to supply the lack of language with acute clicks, establish a hypnotic dialogue.Those pupils, above all, strongly called my attention: green and inscrutable marbles surrounded by a pink and soft cartilage.Just thinking that I could reflect on them, a stinging crossed my body.
I began to identify them: spots, scars, size, color.In this way I knew that there were five saurios tiny that lived the heights of my house.Three in the kitchen area and a couple in the study.The skin of the former was dark.They had swollen bells - I suppose that of so much fly - and they used to get out of their hiding places during the morning.
The others, slender and transparent, used to expect that it appeared during the night in front of the computer to start their games.It was this duo that seduced me: there was something almost human in them and, unlike the kitchen trio, they did not escape when I felt.On the contrary, it seemed to fill them with joy.
Contortionists of the heights, every night they urged new cabrioles.Such was his delicacy that an gust of envy and fascination with his way of life began to take shape in my brain.One night I decided to use a ladder to see them closely.Ofelia did not suspect the reason for my frequent vigils, I believed that the demands of the publisher were increasing - and they certainly were, although they were not careful.
At about ten o'clock, before retiring to bed, while Transiating Comme love.You don't even want enough to live as God commands.How long do you plan to continue with that shit work?I said nothing.
I continued absorbed in my task without looking up from the keyboard until the door that indicated his game was heard.As soon as they saw my figure ascending, they ran to take refuge behind the reproduction of the “chat noir” of Toulouse-Lautrec, which Ofelia liked so much.Anxious, I made a stop in the third step.
I knew that from one moment to another they were going to leave, I sweated and my temples beat me strongly.A few minutes later, one of them began to approach, dragging his belly on the roughness of the wall, zigzagging with the help of his delicate four fingers until he stopped and set his green pupils in mine in mine.Then, in the emerald depth of those moving mediums, I discovered the entrance to a silent twilight, to an abyss of calm.
It was useless to subtract his terrible light, to the inflam.I wanted to separate myself, but the vertigo prevented me and, at that moment, I felt a blow of the sun in my eyes.Now I know that this had to happen.After all, I led to the meeting.And I do not regret.
I have learned, among other things, to enjoy this freedom in the heights and to enrich the variety of my clicks.Yesterday night went to retail.We ran a good time to lie on top of each other.Thus we remain still, very still, like petrified, looking at Ofelia.
Rot
By: Xóchitl Olivera Lagunes
Malena woke up because of the penetrating smell that weighed throughout the room.As soon as he opened his eyes, he looked for the time at the night table watch.it was four in the morning.In the dark he tried to locate the source: a lot of dirty clothes, the shoes outside their place, some fruit or dish with forgotten food around.He found nothing.
Everything in perfect order, as the family liked it and she was careful to maintain.He tried to shelter and close his eyes again, but almost immediately the smell scratched the entrance of his nostrils.Fish?Sour milk?Egg?Or maybe a mixture of the three.
He joined and knew that he could no longer sleep until he did not know what he struggled and where the stench came from.He turned to see Ricardo on the other side of the bed.I slept.Malena thought it would be the bad breath that her husband accumulated during the night and everything that could be able to ajee was approached.
Aspirated.He perceived a smell between acid and bitter that was ultimately the one who had awakened it.Thus Ricardo's mouth smelled every morning when he tried to kiss her and convince her of the Mañanero to whom she almost always refused.He got up carefully.He walked to the door with his nose alert and looked for more attention: some bag with waste, forgotten socks, the shoes, the perceived tennis, a half -dry towel.
Although the smell seemed to belong to all that together and not to one thing.He toured the bedroom by tantling the walls, not without having stumbled a couple of times with the pimpled carpet.Searched under the bed helped by cell phone.Searched in the shoemaker and in the closet.
Everything was in order, clean, but the smell surrounded her without identifying it.He sat on the bed, dark.He placed his hands on his knees and aspired slowly, as if to give time to the stench entering it.Maybe he will be able to separate it in all its components and identify it.
Because the smells work: they are fabrics of different threads, all invisible, which enter braz;Once inside the body, in the lungs, it is possible to weave them and know their origin.But none of that happened.Malena waited for several minutes that made an hour first, and then extended to dawn light.Ricardo accompanied her with the soft sound of her breathing, almost without moving.Malena looked at him silently.He approached a little and aspired.Another advanced and aspired a little more.
He realized that the smell was born from him.Not of his breath or his clothes, but of all of him: of his hair and his body and the junctures of his arms and his armpits and behind his ears and his navel.Malena imagined that the smell wrapped Ricardo and detached himself in small invisible embers that made him more intense.
The sunlight began to cross the white curtain when he could finally observe it: a greenish spot was drawn on one of his cheeks.It was not difficult for him to remember that he had seen it the first time a couple of weeks ago, just a little smaller.Would the spot have to do with the smell?.
Malena observed her husband, so peaceful that she didn't seem asleep.He wondered what would be dreaming, how far his thought would fly.I was sure that, despite so many years together, he kept him secrets.He approached his head and the stench hit him all over his face.Like the image of the spot expanding its size at that time, in real time.It was almost imperceptible, almost like the weakest spasm.Malena paid more attention.
The stain expanded again.She tried to touch her, but from one moment to another it seemed to her that her husband had on her face a kind of mohoso pond that undoubted on her skin.The index approached and touched: there was water.On your cheek.Between the horrible smell.A puddle of greenish water with lichens and algae from which the stench was released.
Malena did not have time to react: the stomach was stir.He made the decision to feel the temperature of the small drops that his bad habits presence or his bad customs.
When contemplating it greenish and made rot, Malena thought of Ricardo's clothes, in his shoes, in his way of archaling his eyebrows, of thundering his fingers, of lighting a cigar.He sank the look where the first stain had been that was no longer a stain but a current that expanded to absorb that body that would soon cease to exist.
While the bubbles splashed everything close when bursting, Malena noticed a small stain on his arm, of just over half a centimeter in diameter, greenish.They splashed the face, while the stain expanded more and more and filled Ricardo the body and bones and hair and everything that could be perceived from him.
Malena could do nothing.The stain expanded and in minutes already covered the entire body of Ricardo.Ricardo, turned into greenish liquid, reverberated through the bubbles that released a more intense smell that managed to remain several seconds in the air.
He wondered what would happen later with her husband: if she would be absorbed by the sheets and matt. When contemplating it greenish and made rot, Malena thought of Ricardo's clothes, in his shoes, in his way of archaling his eyebrows, of thundering his fingers, of lighting a cigar.
He sank the look where the first stain had been that was no longer a stain but a current that expanded to absorb that body that would soon cease to exist. While the bubbles splashed everything close when bursting, Malena noticed a small stain on his arm, of just over half a centimeter in diameter, greenish.
Laura and Aura
By:Aída López Sosa
Do Any of You Artists Know How To Become A venor at Events and Start Selling Your Work There?Like where do i start?WHO DO I TALK TO?
— M😵💫 Thu Jul 22 23:52:45 +0000 2021
Pasa, Aura, said with his old voice.Mom, I have already told you, I am Laura, I replied angry with her almost seventy years did not diminish her preference for my twin;Another day listening to Aura's "virtues" and Laura's "defects".My sister was the beautiful, the intelligent and all the qualifiers that enlarge a human being.
The mirror confirms its sayings, with minutes of difference I was born low of weight and a mark on the neck which was enlarged with age.Mom, during the Eclipse de Luna, the belly scratched being pregnant and that is why the "chivaluna" in my skin.Dermatologists did not achieve creams, or laser, erase the violet spot or even blur it.
He urged to take place the six weeks of the postoperative period and the doctor took the bandage of his eyes;The bandage regarding aura could never be removed.The good thing is that you do come to accompany me, Laura doesn't even stop here.Despite your occupations with my grandchildren and your husband, you will not forsake me.
When a daughter is good, a mother shows it when she is little.Those words rumbled in my head, I had heard them since I had reason for reason.Once again I repeated that my sister could not be for the reasons mentioned by herself.The office holidays made it easier for me to cover the daytime turn;The Night did the nurse.
Not only was he blind, but also deaf;My words, I didn't hear them, I kept calling me aura as her name;the unfolding of its perfection.Narcissist in excess.I decided to fulfill his yearning, I would not clarify who he was and to continue believing himself next to the sacrifice of my sister and not with me, the bad daughter's bachelman.
How busy will be the ultimate?She serves her best, so I do not regret having given you more.I always told your father, ugly people are bad, but he said I'm a classist and that's why I bring her against Laura.I want you to know, all my jewels are for you, daughter, as soon as these rags take away from my eyes..Better in life, so she will not have the right to claim.I will put the house in your name...
I interrupted it bluntly, do you think my sister just leave without half of the house?She will not keep compliant, she works with the winning story of the State Concus of Literature: Writing times 2020 lawyers and she will claim what corresponds to her by law.My mother was quiet and thoughtful for seconds that seemed eternal, then reacted, are you asking me for property?
In automatic I repelled that possibility.No, I'm not telling you that.His wishes to urinate diverted the subject.I helped her get out of bed and carefully directed her to the toilet.The days came to my memory when in that same place the shampoo entered my eyes.
My "bad luck" at the time of the shower was usual.Aura's gaze was never tarnished with the soap, he rarely had reasons to cry while I was left over.Mom, do you remember how Chillona was Laura every time you bathed her?She surprised me when she said that I laughed at me and the pleasure to see me with red eyes.
A feeling of anger and helplessness caught me, however, I lifted her from the toilet with the same care and returned to her bed.I have no children, but I suppose everyone loves them equally.Maybe my bad luck was not that and my misadventures were caused by their perversity.
My twin used to talk to me at night to know how our mother had spent;Her family had her absorbed and that's why she was not going to see her.The social commitments of her husband, a successful businessman worthy of her, and her teenage children whom she took to school, karate and ballet, in addition to directing a entourage of servitude, had it overwhelmed.
Aura complied with paying Mrs. Aura, the difference with me is that I did not have the money to solve the cost of another shift.From eight in the morning he arrived to prepare all his meals, bathe her, manage his medications and be a depositary of the feelings of the woman who gave birth to me and never wanted me.
At times he left her talking alone and toured the house: the room of each of us, the rear garden with the centenary mango tree, the music room with wooden walls where dad usedYuuu ... every corner was impregnated with good and bad memories.
As soon as I warned, Aura's room is larger than mine and has closet, that allowed him to have it fixed, frequent reason for my punishments by not maintaining the same order.My journey culminated in the kitchen preparing the diet prescribed by the doctor: low in fat and salt, abundant vegetables.
It was increasingly difficult for me to get up early and go to attend my mother to listen to my sister's name instead of mine.I wanted to have the resources to pay someone to do it, but my income was not fixed.In a few weeks we would know your status.
It was likely that when removing the bandage, he would continue to need help, in this case he would have to request an indefinite license in the firm.The only idea was overwhelming me.The routine would have been benevolent not finding out of their hoaxes.One day he told me, do you remember Fernandito, the boy who played with you in the park?
He barely remembered his lenses and black and curly hair of the plump.Because he had a Mongolite little sister and one day his mother told me that the girl drowned in the bathtub.At that time the ladies commented that she surely left her alone so that death would take her.Without hesitation I deduced that the same would have wanted to do with me.
I wanted to enter his mind, I asked him if I considered justifing that with a sick child, taking into account that she recognized himself as a true Catholic and not those who go to Mass on Sundays and from Monday to Saturday the “effect the“ effectLucifer".The ambiguity of his response brought me down to think that he would be able "for the good of the family".
Alienated, trying to remember Fernandito's mother, that day I forgot to manage the medications at the precise time.While I was brought to my mouth, I was horrified by the vulnerability of children before their parents: just as they give your life, they can take it out without being able to defend themselves.
On more than one occasion he took me out of my thoughts when I raised his voice because he wet his gown with the broth.My silence worried her: do you have problems with your husband? You are very quiet, she said convinced to be aware of the couple conflicts, who were constant with dad because of her extreme changes in her humor.I did not see the fi of martyrdom.
My ruined vacations and with the risk of prolonging without salary, without alternative to flee or demarcate in someone the slab that was loaded in tow.And if instead that Fernandito's mother got rid of her daughter, the daughter got rid of her mother?The idea went and went, she was around and crouched ... he forgot.
The days ran, the deadline to know the course of my destiny was approaching.The corneas transplant would take my mother's sight or not, what if not?Aura was in a position to continue paying the nurse, but I did not have the availability to serve her indefinitely.My bad ways were resentful, bath water too hot, salty food, brief conversation, air conditioning ice cream, strident music.
Fernandito's mother, Fernandito's little sister,.My son -in -law treated you with love last night, it's evident, said malicious.That's right, mom, I replied by giving him by his side.
I put Elvis in the player, we both remember dad.The mango tree paid off, the sky of intense glowing blue, spring flutter.At noon the mango water, my mother's favorite, was ready.He thanked nature for his generosity.Lying in his fluffy mattress, before ingesting his food, he raised a prayer "for our daily bread".
To Mrs. Aura was feeding and drinking and drinking and drinking ... wetting the gown, pillows, sheets, bed ... filling her mouth, throat, nose, lungs, the sweet yellow nectar until she drown her breathing.Xóchitl Iliana Olivera Lagunes.Mexico City, 1985.
He studied Agricultural Engineering at UNAM.In 2016 he published his first short novel, cat eyes.He studied the diploma in literary writing in Literary - Mexican Center for Writers.He has published stories, stories and essays in the digital magazine Cronopio, El Universal, Tierra Adentro and El Beisman.
She is co -founder of the digital magazine Semillas de Sauce and editor and collaborator in literary amphi.He teaches writing workshops.He was a jury for the call of Chronicle Fictitia Territories, about the work of photographer Santiago Arau.In 2020 he won the National New Novel Prize "José Revueltas".
Carlos Martín Briceño.Mérida, Yucatán, 1966.He has won national and international story awards, among which the International Max AUB 2012 and the National Literature José Fuentes Mares 2018 stand out.He also received the National Beatriz Espejo in 2003 and that of the Autonomous University of Yucatán in 2004, and an honor mention in the National San Luis Potosí 2008 convened by the INBA.
He is the author of seven stories books.He is also the author of the novel The Death of the nightingale (2017) and traveling to the center of the letters (2018).His stories appear in more than a dozen national and foreign anthologies.He is a member of the National System of Art Creators of Mexico.José Andrés Machado Soberanis.Mérida, Yucatán, 1996.Participated from 2016 to 2018 in the writing collective "Lyrics".
Bachelor of Law from the Universidad Model.Aída López Sosa.Mérida, Yucatán, 1964.Psychologist.Columnist in local, national and international newspapers and magazines.Author of the storybook: "Farewell to a muse and other farewells".Winner of the State Literature Award 2020.Included in the map of contemporary Mexican writers and in the catalog of the Mexican story.
I distract me driving
By: Andrés Machado Soberanis
Before, before passing through the migra box, you asked me what a distraction is.With all the hustle to show our documents to the agent I forgot to answer you;I think we were talking about meditation and the present moment, things like this.Anyway, here is my answer: a distraction is something you do to keep your mind busy and not think about the quantive flow of time.
I give you an example: I distract me by driving.Obviously not?Why would other reason have decided to drive from San Francisco to Mexico City?You are my employee, but you are also my nephew, no ways that I start to handle you.It's just a favor, I'm going to the city for business, I take you with me to take your flight to Mérida and surprise your girlfriend who you have talked so much to me.
As I was telling you, driving on the road is like meditating, the thoughts are staying behind and although trying to see them through the rearview mirror, there will come a time when you lose sight of them irremediably.That is the reason why I distract me by driving.Although thinking about it, "I distract me driving" can mean something completely different.
It may be the confession of someone who is not able to keep attention on the way to be after the steering wheel.If I tell you about nothing, I would manage, you would probably worry that at any time I be bewildered and stamped with any of these trucks.
In that case, it is sure that we would die, and when one is dead there is no need to get distracted, because time ceases to be relevant.Unless there is life after death.Yes, we fuck ourselves because having to get distracted in eternity would be torture.I don't know, it's curious if you think about it for a while ...
By the way, wait me here in the car.I'm going to buy some cocaine in that yellow house, a long trip awaits us.If something happens three times.Ah, and don't tell your aunt.I mean cocaine, not distractions.
