The Radio Lanzarote-Onda Cero Micro-story Contest, dedicated in its tenth edition to the Tourist Centers, continues to receive stories.
The deadline to participate in the contest will remain open until August 31. Until then, those interested can send their stories to the email concursorelatos@lanzarotemedia.net, with a maximum length of 100 words, including the title if it has one.
On this occasion, it is proposed to write a story that takes place inside one of the Tourist Centers of Lanzarote, whether it be the Fire Mountains, Jameos del Agua, the Cueva de los Verdes, the Farmer's Monument, the Cactus Garden, the Mirador del Río or the MIAC-Castillo de San José.
Each author may send a maximum of five stories, which may be signed with a pseudonym, although they must always indicate a name and contact telephone number. The stories will be published in order of receipt in La Voz de Lanzarote and will be read in the 'Reading on the Radio' section of Radio Lanzarote-Onda Cero.
The jury, which will be made up of journalists from Radio Lanzarote-Onda Cero and La Voz de Lanzarote, will be responsible for announcing the decision of the contest in the second half of September. The winner will receive a prize of a weekend for two people at the Hotel Boutique Isla y el Mar in Puerto del Carmen, while the second prize will consist of a dinner for two people at the Castillo de San José and the third prize winner will receive a lunch for two people at the Farmer's Monument.
In addition, on this occasion there will also be a prize for the fourth place finisher, who will be able to enjoy a Premium experience in the Tourist Centers.
The islet hunter
Among cliffs, seas and beaches, enormous creatures sail towards the shore, but they never manage to reach the desired place.
They remain visible, before the eyes of the islanders, who can do little for them. Like anchored islets, one large and two smaller ones, awaken all eyes... Their drawings, shapes and colors, combined with their sea and sky, achieve a picture that only a great artist can capture... the immensity prevents it, but immense is his capacity: A window that does not attend to forms, stops the creatures and now they shine like never before.
Russian roulette
After long weeks of confinement, isolated from the rest of the world in the scarce twenty square meters of her apartment, Marisa wanted to take advantage of her fondness for Russian roulette and enjoy the landscape again. So she placed an ad in the newspaper's contact section:
«Marisa, 39 years old. Attractive, athletic, loves surprises, in a risk group and wanting to go through the same with asymptomatic people. Those interested, go to the Mirador del Río at 5:00 p.m. Covid-19 Card holders abstain.»
At the appointed time, the viewpoint was packed. No one was wearing a mask.
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I have just been told that the statue of Blas Cabrera Felipe next to the Red Cross is going to have rusty metal spikes placed all over his body and will be moved to the Cactus Garden. He will be there for six months, and then he will spend stays of the same duration in other centers on the island. Apparently it is an initiative dusted off from the late Caesar, to cactusize all the statues. A journalist has just come up with a better idea: to estatize all the cacti in the Garden.
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I left Órzola early and arrived in Caleta de Sebo to wait for the heroic sailors who that day had decided to swim across the unbreakable River. Medals ex aequo and paella for everyone on the crystalline dock. For the first time in history, up there, the view from the Mirador envied the hubbub of the smallness down here.
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Once I witnessed the Misunderstood Tourist passing through Lanzarote. He came from Gran Canaria, where the local press had said goodbye to him with all the synonyms of bewilderment. When he arrived in Arrecife, the first thing he did was visit the Castillo de San José, whose exterior palm trees inspired a poem. Then in Mozaga he cried inconsolably because they didn't sell green door t-shirts. What he liked most about all of Arrieta was the fish, as the Jameos seemed kitsch to him. He hated viewpoints by system, so he didn't go. Of the national park he only declared “they cheat me and fail”.
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Natural education and vulgarity, everything was possible on school trips from Playa Honda. Nothing had happened on the night of firmament and poetry by Ángel Fernández Benéitez in one of the San Bartolo boilers, but it did happen on the visit to the Fire Mountains. We were with the volcanologist guide who told us that, in truth, the whole island is full of jameos, natural crevices in the volcanic tubes, where inside you can't hear anything, nor does the wind blow. There a little classmate said “well, if you fart, it stays here forever”.
The volcanoes' brush
With his worker's suit, somewhat radiant in his being, he gave much vigor and joy to those around him.
-One more companion,- I thought. He was open to dialogue and company.- Who would have thought: He is a creator and great artist: César Manrique,- A friend whispered to me.
Nature, art and vice versa. An idea that included him and merged into it himself as one more work of art.
Never was the art of an artist so broad, so successful in its intention, so perpetual, nor so physical and at the same time, so divine.
Secrets
The man, about to abandon this life, remembered his great promise far away in time.
Deep inside the old refuge to protect themselves from pirates, the stalactites adorned the grotto with sinuous shapes. Pleasant temperature impregnated with welcoming music. Meanwhile, the guide was bringing them closer to the center of the Earth.
Sensibility united them in their secret. They would continue with their lives renouncing their passion and desire.
The walk in that captivating landscape led them to agree on their silence in that Cave. Smiling; they said goodbye.
Secret versus secret. Both hidden without seeing the light.
Blue sea
From the Mirador del Río, he could see the horizon. The memories of that month of April remained trapped in his memory. Her sweet voice, that morning, sounded like a melody. Fifty years, without his gaze, without his letters, without his kisses…
In front, he could see in the distance, La Graciosa, which seemed to wink at him, and the echo of the wind whispered in his ear: “don't cry, don't worry”.
After a while, María shouted: “Laura, let's have dinner”.
Some orchids adorned the table. A blue jacket hung on a chair. She was not used to his laughter. On her lips, she guessed a kiss.
