Texts from the call for entries for the XVI edition of the Radio Lanzarote 2026 Micro-story Contest continue to arrive at the editorial offices of La Voz de Lanzarote and Radio Lanzarote-Onda Cero. The contest, which began this past July 1st, pays tribute to the Lanzarote painter, essayist, narrator, playwright, and cultural manager Félix Hormiga (1951-2025).
One more year, the Tourist Centers collaborate with the contest, which opens the submission period this Wednesday, July 1, 2026 until August 31, both inclusive.
On this occasion, participants must submit a micro-story that must not exceed 100 words, not including the phrase we will provide below. All stories will have the same title "...And in the afternoon it rained". Based on this title, participants must imagine what happens next.
Each author may send a maximum of five stories, which they may sign with a pseudonym, although they must always provide a name and a contact telephone number. Likewise, the stories should be sent to the address: concursorelatos@lanzarotemedia.net.
As the stories are received, they will be published in La Voz de Lanzarote. The author's name will not appear in the publication. Only after the verdict 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 verdict of the contest will be made public in the second half of September.
This year, the original numbering of the texts will be maintained, also taking into account those that have been disqualified. The following texts have been received so far:
Text 1: ...And in the afternoon it rained
I could not imagine what was going to happen. A little before, I was in the cloud and I discovered it near me: the most precious drop I had ever seen in my life. Our condensation process had coincided in time and I did everything possible to get closer to it, but it did not even notice my presence.
When I thought I would lose her in the crowd, the electrical device made the storm burst and the music of the thunder accompanied our first dance. Then, we plunged into the abyss in a wet embrace that made us inseparable forever.
Text 2: ...And in the afternoon it rained
And in the afternoon it rained, first timidly and then with a fury that seemed to want to erase the city of New York from the map… At 200 meters high, the tightrope walker's umbrella, overcome by vertigo and fatigue, mistook Times Square for a colorful and busy anthill.
Text 3: ...And in the afternoon it rained
In the street, some girls can be heard singing in the doorway: “The patio of my house is private…”.
She stops. That song always takes her back to Doña Gregoria, her kindergarten teacher, who taught them the pat-a-cake circle with a patience that seemed eternal. She remembers small hands joined, clumsy steps, “crouch down and crouch down again”.
For an instant, she feels like she's back there, spinning in that patio that smelled of chalk and snacks.
And then it starts raining again, as if the afternoon wanted to put music to the song.
Text 4. ...And in the afternoon it rained
She went out into the street as usual, looking for puddles. She doesn't like people who avoid them, who walk carefully so as not to step in any. She says that those who avoid them live dry on the inside. “They are selfish —she murmurs—, they only think of themselves, incapable of seeing the puddle the neighbor might be in, incapable of helping the person in front of them who is sinking”.
Everyone, in life, sooner or later, steps in puddles.
It all depends on our attitude and the luck of a friendly —or anonymous— hand pulling us out of the water in time.
Text 6: ...And in the afternoon it rained
With the car loaded to the roof and the last boxes already inside, all that was left was to start.
—Come on, we're going to miss the boat —said Mom.
She took a step towards the passenger door.
And suddenly it started to rain.
She stopped dead. She took off her shoes with a haste we hadn't seen in her, held the shoes in her left hand, and ran towards the sand with her green dress clinging to her body.
Mom opened her mouth to call her, but I held her arm.
—No —I whispered—. Let her dance.
Text 8: …And in the afternoon it rained
The orchestra fell silent in the middle of the chorus. While the musicians ran to cover the equipment with plastic, someone announced over the loudspeaker that the festival was over.
In the square, the silence lasted barely an instant.
A soaked woman raised her hands and continued singing alone:
—Gently, kiss me!
Beside her, three friends provided the chorus, and in the blink of an eye, the three hundred people in the square merged into a single mass, jumping over the puddles.
There were no more speakers, no lights, no stage.
Just a town singing in the downpour.
Text 9: …And in the afternoon it rained
The wood of the dinghy creaked against the rocks and the impact threw us onto the dark sand of the cove. We crawled through the sand, shivering, our eyes blinded by the salt crust and the heavy fear of those who had crossed the channel in the dark.
It was then that the sky opened up.
The downpour began to wash our faces, dissolving the sting of the sea on our cheeks. I slowly opened my eyelids, swallowing the sweet water from the sky, and finally I could see my brother's face again.
We were alive.
Text 10: ...And in the afternoon it rained
This black bird doesn't know how much I long for a cascade of anguish. A pain in my ribs that makes me feel company. The sun dances on my skin as I roll down the hill. I want to see the memory of his face in the clear sky. Instead, I see many eyes that don't shut up.
—Look what you did to the sky. The sun doesn't warm anymore. Why do you condemn us to see everything?
They closed tightly until everything was dark. I felt a pull, a mother-pain enveloped me. A cold breeze and a cry flooded me. And in the afternoon it rained.
Text 11: ...And in the afternoon it rained
The clouds ride on top of each other. The sky turns inside out. My heartbeats are thunder. The walls are cracked, the windows are trembling. I would like to know what lies beyond this storm, beyond the gray. A whole life remembering what doesn't exist and missing what I don't want. I feel a tension between the clouds that perhaps should not be resolved. A flash is always a hope. And in the afternoon it rained. It rained on me under the roof of the house.
Text 12: ...And in the afternoon it rained
The sky was the color of cavities and in the afternoon it rained. White fangs with mother-of-pearl tips.
They penetrated the ceiling and lime flooded the room. My sister, covered in bed, wouldn't stop crying. She told me that God wanted to eat her for behaving so badly, as Mom always says. I told her she might be right. She didn't answer anything. I uncovered her and it was a giant jaw oozing colostrum. It chewed the bed and swallowed Mom, leaving behind a milk flower.
Text 13: ...And in the afternoon it rained
My feet feel heavy with every step I take.
Tons of oil run through me and soak the seabed. I am the color of a blackbird.
I have the character of the wind. I found a ripe fig on the ground and it told me that I am clean, that water takes all of that away. I told it that I didn't think so, because Achamán abandoned me a long time ago. And then I bit it. The milk that was its blood dripped on me. I didn't care about being dirty anymore. And in the afternoon it rained.
Text 14: ...And in the afternoon it rained
I had a dream in which I painted a picture with the blood of bugs. I lifted the stones and picked up all I could. Sometimes I also went for woodlice. I painted a volcano's scream. Monochromatic and dense. Almost like oil paint. But it smelled much better. I put it on the shore and offered it to the sea. But the tide went out and it stayed there waiting. But it started to rain. I wanted it to turn black. For the lava to cool. But it stayed the same. Screaming.
Text 15: ...And in the afternoon it rained
That day, the wind tore off some old tiles and uncovered a letter hidden for forty years. The old woman, who could barely see, recognized that handwriting instantly. She opened it with trembling hands and the heart of the young woman she once was began to beat again.
“If you accept, I will wait for you under the big walnut tree.”
She never received that letter. Someone decided her fate.
She kissed it, pressed it against her chest, and raised her gaze to the sky without resentment. Then, as if time rested, and in the afternoon it rained.
Text 16: ...And in the afternoon it rained
Dawn. It's not just any day. The wet pearls move along the leaves like
Virgin's tears.
I am privileged to live in an environment between woods and mountains, that combination of green colors, that peace of atmosphere, that sound of branches rubbed by the wind. The chirping of birds invades my imagination, it transports me to live the dream of my life.
To see the dawn, to enjoy peace, the smell of damp flowers and roses, to smile at this life I have left and to dream, to dream of my freedom.
I am happy.
Text 17: ...And in the afternoon it rained
Today the trees bid me good morning with their dances and songs to the wind, that damp perfume, those tears of joy on their leaves, that chirping of little birds, giving thanks to heaven, for their gift of giving life with their dawn light and freedom. That new spring of clear and pure water; What a miracle of nature! And, suddenly, everything is illuminated even more with a beam of colors. Oh God! How great is this mystery of time!
Is there anything more beautiful than a rainbow?
Wise nature.
Text 18: ...And in the afternoon it rained
Outside it keeps burning. Hell grows and devours everything in its path. My refuge seems safe, yet I already begin to feel the heat of the fire. My eyelids are tinged with the red of the flames. My soul stings...
The abyss keeps advancing... Yet I still wait for you... like fresh rain.
My eyes weigh on me more and more. I undress. And, now stripped of absences and griefs, I fall asleep.
You missed our appointment again. But I will wait for you again in the next dream, perhaps in
the last dream...
Text 19: ...And in the afternoon it rained
It was raining. Everything remained the same. I was once again a beggar for love... And she... She had never
stopped being a proud donor.
We met, at an odd hour, in a dirty and sad northern station.
She fluttered, like a wandering fairy, among the carriages full of loneliness; like
a naked and fragile butterfly, showing her most intimate charms behind the translucent
veil of a distant, tormented youth.
Stopped at the end of the downpour, we faced each other's gazes and then let them fall
onto the platform... Then we saw our sad lives silently slide by in a stream of bitter rain.
Text 20: ...And in the afternoon it rained
Bella and I were walking through the Volcán de la Corona. As always, we stopped to contemplate the landscape, letting the silence speak for us. Then, without warning, the sky changed its mood and began to rain. We looked at each other and Bella started to bark at me. Then we started to play in the rain, soaked and covered in mud, while the wind and the mountain kept our little secret.
Text 21: ...And in the afternoon it rained
She never knew how to count the years; she measured them by lost harvests, by ships that did not return, and by the wind scratching her hands. They said that the women of Lanzarote were born of lava: resilient on the outside, fiery on the inside. That morning she buried her last fear without shedding a tear. And in the afternoon it rained. No one remembered having seen it rain like that. She also did not remember having ever cried. Until then.
Text 22: ...And in the afternoon it rained
They dressed her in white under a clear sky. The neighbors whispered that it was bad luck to get married on an island where rain was only a memory. When she said "yes," a drop fell on the veil. Then another. And another. No one spoke again. The grandmother smiled at the sky.
"Lanzarote also blesses her daughters," she murmured.
Text 23: ...And in the afternoon it rained
She was never beautiful, they said. She had hands twisted by work and skin cracked by the wind. But every afternoon, when she returned, the whole house smelled of bread, figs, and home. The day she died, the island remained still. And in the afternoon it rained. Her grandchildren understood then that some women leave so much life behind them that even the sky comes out to bid them farewell.
Text 24: ...And in the afternoon it rained
Her mother taught her that in Lanzarote you didn't conquer the land by fighting it, but by listening to it. She learned to walk on lava without fear and to sow where others only saw stone. When the rain came, everyone ran for shelter. She remained still.
She closed her eyes and smiled. Finally, she understood why the women in her family had never feared fire: they had always waited for water.
Text 25: …And in the afternoon it rained
The rain was to blame for you trying on your wet t-shirt on my sofa, for your jeans falling to the floor any which way, and for your bare feet finding their way to the bedroom.
Text 26: ...And in the afternoon it rained
When the clouds slowly parted and there was a refraction of water with the sun,
where a rainbow of seven colors appeared.
Some little birds were flying around it.
It disappeared and a calm night appeared where the streetlights illuminated the road.
Those trees and plants gave off a damp smell, I watched them through my window.