La Voz continues to receive new short stories that will compete in the XII edition of this literary contest. On this occasion, participants must tell a micro-story, real or fictional, in which the radio is the protagonist. As in previous editions, the maximum length of the stories must be 100 words, including the title if there is one.
Once again, the Tourist Centers will collaborate with the contest, whose participation period will extend until August 31.
Each author may submit a maximum of five stories, which may be signed with a pseudonym, although a name and contact telephone number must always be indicated. All those who wish to participate can send their stories to [email protected].
The stories will be read in the "Reading on the Radio" section of Radio Lanzarote (90.7), and published in La Voz de Lanzarote. Both publication and reading will be subject to the availability of space and time of both media.
The decision of the contest, which will be made public in the second half of September, will be made by a jury formed by journalists from Radio Lanzarote-Onda Cero and La Voz de Lanzarote, who will choose three winning stories and seven finalists.
The winner of the first prize will get a dinner for two at the Castillo de San José restaurant, while the second prize is one of the unusual experiences for two people from the Art, Culture and Tourism Centers of the Cabildo de Lanzarote. Finally, the third prize is a lunch for two at the Monumento al Campesino restaurant. All prizes are for adults.
Lanzarote without.
I am sitting on the terrace of the ninth floor of the Heavy Metal hotel, enjoying the local radio and contemplating a glorious reddish sunset, slightly distorted by the haze and pollution. When the announcer with a somewhat melancholic voice, informs that in New York, a famous artist of Lanzarote origin residing there since 1964, Cesar Manrique, who exhibited in the main art halls of the city, has died at the age of 103. And I think, no matter how much fame this conejero has achieved, perhaps he never contemplated a sunset like this, from here,
From Famara.
A summer night
There are no secrets for a summer night. With a smile on my face I was thinking about the touch of your hands. The music from the radio lived in my near memories.
Until, suddenly, I saw him. He didn't see me. A car crashed into mine. I don't know what I did, I only thought about our love. Your sad face remained in my memory.
Then everything evaporated. It evaporated... and that night I left.
Tomorrow on the station there will be no song, maybe early in the morning, the obituary note will come discreetly from the announcer's voice...
Signals
An old legend says that the first radio signal to reach our planet was not
was heard by anyone. Our future "home" was still a desolate desert.
When the second one arrived, the Earth, already a green paradise, was inhabited only by birds, then some faded, ugly and deaf-mute beings, who at that precise moment began to sing and weave their colored feathers. And when the third signal "landed", a clever ape thought he understood it, got out of the tree, entered a cave and began to record distant stars and constellations on the walls.
Radio frequency
That night he was able to tune into the frequency again. After so many years searching for it, he finally found it.
-The magic of radio -he said aloud.
And she listened to the program her husband was doing and went to sleep. The next morning, she brought flowers to the cemetery.
Enjoy the moment
That morning Antonio had called the radio station, through the airwaves the dedication to Francoise was heard. Don't worry about me, I'm fine in cotton wool, don't come soon. I'll wait for you, "carpedieu amor". My two loves were you and Lanzarote. Francoise, listened to it while she was going to the church of Ntra. Sra. del Carmen to hear mass as every Sunday. Suddenly, she tripped over a foreigner, who asked her what time the mass starts? and they kept talking. After a while they said goodbye: -aurevoir, carpedieu Francoise. - Carpedieu.
Dear ladies and gentlemen of Radio Lanzarote:
I don't know if you remember me. I spent seven years dedicating songs to a love
impossible... To a love that seemed impossible... But to which, "thanks" to your station, at the
end I managed to convince him to love me.
Please, I beg you to come and pick it up. I tried to take it to the "objects
found" but unfortunately this section is no longer operational.
As I promised him happiness, every day he came to claim it, and I have complied as best I could so far...
But I can't take it anymore... Please. Help me!!
Whites...
I've never told anyone, but I have a gift. I am able to tune into the thoughts of creatures. It works as follows: I concentrate by staring, and as if it were the wheel of a radio, I am tuning, until I hear the message.
And what does that little crab say?
Mmmm... Well, it seems that since the time of the pirates they hadn't had much action in their lives... until a few weeks ago, when some passers-by invaded the jameo... They were terrified, but now they feel more alive than ever.
Wow...! The adrenaline rush would leave them white!
Untitled
On that cloudy morning; I woke up with sleep in my eyes and the cool wind was coming in through the window.
I cleaned myself, showered and then had breakfast. I was finishing putting on the washing machine.
The radio was already giving the news that was happening in those places.
I started hanging out on the terrace clothesline.
Later, drops of water began to come out of the air conditioning unit and when they were going to say the winning stories, finalists of the short story contest, the
radio broke.
What a nuisance, you can no longer hear those little stories that move you during the day!
A chord
The delicate whisper of the transistor illuminated the bedroom. The window ajar, as if it were a whim, did not let the air pass. Instead, an anguished fan turned sadly trying unsuccessfully to cool the spirits of the absurd discussion.
Suddenly three notes, a chord, and time stops. The one that was once our song plays. My eyes land on yours. Your hands assist mine.
-I'm sorry.
-I love you.
And our lips seal the peace.
Untitled
His gaze reflected bewilderment. The damn disease made him just a stranger in his eyes. Every day it costs him more to remember and the medicines stopped working a long time ago. He doesn't know where he is or why the person holding him is crying. Nor why some straps hold him to the bed.
I kiss him on the forehead and turn on the radio. The theme song of his favorite sports program plays, the one we listened to together so many nights.
His eyes light up as I close the door.
-Good night, son.
-Rest, Dad.
And my tears turn to happiness.
Back to my parents' house
Everything was as I left it. Mom had taken care of preserving for years the room I shared with my brother as if we had never left. As if nothing had happened. As if we still spoke.
The cassette deck still housed one of our homemade tapes. I pressed play and the sound brought back the memory of two children, sitting for hours next to the radio waiting for the announcer to play that Nirvana song that drove us crazy so we could record it on a ninety TDK.
I wonder what my brother is doing.
Untitled
That New Year's Eve had to be special. The blackout left us in the dark just three minutes before the chimes. The whole family panicked except for my father, who calmly got up and opened the first drawer of the dining room dresser to take out a couple of candles and his old battery-powered transistor. By the time he tuned into the station the quarters were already ringing, but we were finally able to welcome the new year. And so, by the light of the candles and the warmth of the radio, my father discovered that he was going to be a grandfather.
People without soul
The radio announces a terrible news, a soul has just fallen struck down at the doors of the capital consistory. The authorities are heading to the place to identify the body, they cordon off the area, while the neighbors of the place wonder what has happened.
Meanwhile, in the plenary session, the new deputy mayor has taken office.
Following the advice of his predecessor, better to govern without a soul.
