Last week to send short stories to La Voz for the XV edition of the Radio Lanzarote Summer 2025 Short Story Contest. This time, the contest commemorates the centenary of the birth of the writer Carmen Martín Gaite (Salamanca 1925 - Madrid 2000).
One more year, the Tourist Centers collaborate with the contest, which opened on July 1, 2025 and will close on August 31, both inclusive.
This time the participants must present a micro-story that must not exceed 100 words, among which the introductory text that we will provide below does not count. The stories will have the same beginning, a fragment of Las ataduras (1960): "The door of the bar opened immediately and a girl ran out, crossing her cardigan over her chest. She turned to answer the man who was running after her, reached the side of the car and opened the front door for him...". From this beginning, participants must imagine what happens next.
Each author may submit a maximum of five stories, which may be signed with a pseudonym, although they must always indicate a name and contact telephone number. Also, the stories will be sent to the address: concursorelatos@lanzarotemedia.net.
As the stories are received, they will be published in La Voz de Lanzarote. The name of the author will not appear in the publication. Only after the decision will the names of the winning and finalist authors be known.
A jury composed of journalists from Radio Lanzarote and La Voz de Lanzarote will choose three winning stories and seven finalists. The decision of the contest will be made public in the second half of September.
The winner of the first prize will get a Jameos Noche dinner for two people, while the second will get a dinner for two people at the Castillo de San José. Finally, the third place winner will enjoy an Unusual Experience for two people.
79) Untitled,
[...]
I told you more than a year ago, this job is filthy and also what am I doing running like a soul that the devil carries, in front of a man who chases me like a museum piece? I have reached the limit of my strength with what I am wearing, I am leaving, and if it were not enough inside this swamp of shit, I feel observed by malicious eyes through the windows of the light well, what do they want from me? So, "bye" with your bread you and the others eat it, this dog's life all for you...
85) The connection
[...]
Before entering we crossed our eyes, and in a moment we understood that only an instant is enough to connect with someone, at that moment I felt that I was protecting her and she surely felt protected. My gaze immediately turned to the man who was following her, and I suppose he understood that he should not continue, since she, at last, was safe. I set off for nowhere, since what mattered was getting out of that moment, I looked at her through the mirror, but this time she was absorbed watching life go by behind the glass.
86)Untitled
[...]
The girl got in and I started the engine without saying a word.
In my fifteen years of service I had become accustomed to acting as if nothing surprised me. "The mission of a chauffeur is to take the family where they are asked, safely and efficiently, without speaking or showing that they are aware of what is happening inside the vehicle." I still remember the words of Mr. Ricardo, the girl's father, when he hired me. Words that will turn against him, because what cannot be told is revealed. The police are on their way.
87) Releasing moments.
[...]
I didn't know her, but I gave her the opportunity to get in the car because the glittering stars of that night made me see a woman in need of leaving that place intoxicated with the perfume of ephemeral happiness.
The ties are threads, sometimes thin and sometimes thick, that we can cut with courage and hands that pick us up and gently lift us.
88) Silences
[...]
She got in quickly. I got in and started without asking anything.
That man ran shouting and berating after us for a few meters. She was looking out the window in silence so I just kept driving. She looked at the Moon and sighed deeply.
I stopped at the dock, went down to open her door and extended my hand inviting her to get out. Her gaze was fixed on me, she took my hand and went down with her silence as her only language. I gave her a hug and we started to take a walk without a single word breaking that moment.
Sometimes, silence is the best company.
89) Loss
[...]
But she opened the back door and got in quickly. I will hurry to get in the cab and start.
–To the Gran Hotel!. She told me quite overwhelmed.
She began to sob while drying her tears. I couldn't stop looking in the rearview mirror, unable to ask her anything. The silence was broken between her sobs and made that short journey eternal. Her gaze escapes lost through the window, her sadness corroded me inside. I went slow waiting for her relief, but it didn't happen.
When I arrived at the hotel, I asked her:
–Are you staying here, ma'am?
–No!. But tonight yes.
90) "Thoughts on the fly"
[...]
You are the one who goes up. Five senses, even six that receive your disjointed signals and that I compose in the same direction. I look at you, I look at you again, I admire you.
I haven't asked you any questions yet, you already have the answers. In order with you, wanting to mess you up with me. I check myself in case I go too far and I never succeed. Ask me for something else, whatever you want.
You fly high, I see you from below. Although I am the one who flies over you. And you, with your feet on the ground.
We arrived, luckily. Lucky me to have you. Lucky me not to know you.
91) "Heels in the night"
[...]
The sound of her heels hitting the ground echoed in the silence of the night. It was raining, but she didn't seem to flinch. The water slipped down her face and cleaned — or disguised — her tears. The red dress, soaked, sinuously marked her feminine figure.
Arriving next to the car, she stopped for a moment, granting herself one last moment of doubt before abandoning who had been her great love. The decision was made, but something inside her resisted saying goodbye altogether. She ignored the open door and walked past. Involuntarily, she turned to look at him and murmured: “—“We'll always have Tenesar.”
92) "Compulsive creativity"
[...]
—And so far our program today! We'll be back tomorrow at the same time, with the
continuation of the story. — said the announcer enthusiastically, giving way to advertising.
I turned off the radio letting my imagination run wild and designed different endings in my mind,
while I settled in the car, wishing to check tomorrow if I was right. Really, this is getting out of hand. I identify so much with the characters that sometimes it scares me... but I can't stop. Everywhere —the supermarket, the gas station, the dentist or the laundry— my mind flies creating stories. Have I become a writer? I need help!!!!