The new edition of the Radio Lanzarote Micro-story Contest continues its course and this week has added 33 new stories. Remember that the deadline to send the stories to participate in the contest will end on August 31 and that this year the radio pays tribute to the writer Rafael Arozarena.
Therefore, the proposal is to build a story that is a continuation of the final words of the novel "Mararía", which read as follows: "In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds..."
As in previous editions, the radio must be part of the story and the maximum length of the stories will have to be 100 words, including the title if it has one. Each author can send up to a maximum of five stories, which can be signed with a pseudonym, although they must always indicate a name and a contact telephone number.
The literary proposals will be published weekly, if they meet the requirements, in La Voz de Lanzarote. Those who wish may send their works to the address [email protected], indicating in the subject of the email: 2017 Micro-story Contest.
The Last Tear
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds that announced a death. They came in search of her beauty and her memories of love.
In that melancholic instant she remembered her past life and heard a radio play broadcast on the radio in the distance. She sighed and thought of the protagonist of that radio play who was loved, desired like her, and the last tear rolled down her cheeks before her soul flew along with those black birds.
Strangers
In the sky, some black birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds...
... that whipped their wings in the wind with extreme force, punishing the ears of all those who dared to watch their flight. And in a small dark house, oblivious to the storm; moans, whispers, wails; they surrendered fully.
The radio: "Kiss me, kiss me".
Their intertwined hands rhythmically hitting the window. As if wanting to break it, wrapped in a protest, leaving their fleeting mark on a cloud of ice, clinging to their skin bathed in the mist.
A flower.
At Sunset
In the darkness I hear sparrows, turtledoves and robins singing together in some green-leaved trees in front of my house.
All chirping in unison before clinging to the branches of the trees, they form a cloud of colors.
Predominantly black, they are scared because uncontrolled black cats roam the street
and very close in a house there are caged pigeons
I listen to my radio until the wee hours of the morning as usual and I think about everything I read about Rafael Arozarena's Mararía
The next day the sun is scorching.
Memories
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds to warn of the sad beauty.
I remember every piece of advice from him, the afternoons we spent by the sand of the beach or the happy sunsets in the beautiful green fields.
Fleeting flashes of hope define a feverish afternoon with the radio as a friend, eager to find my father recovered, after that sudden heart attack.
Untitled
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds... sad birds, I think, birds entangled among more than horns, of the sun, auras of them, those who leave us, birds more than birds waves I see, waves perhaps of radio, perhaps of the sad radio of the one who named the auras of those who leave us through the waves of it, the radio, perhaps those birds are the angry waves thinking that he, Francisco José, will not take advantage of them to say goodbye to those horns of the sun that leave us, and that only he, turned into rays of sunshine and birds the waves.
Slavery
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds, swiftness in their wings.
From my window, listening to a sweet melody on my old radio, I remembered that legend about the enigmatic young woman and her bitter old age.
Damn woman, damn being born! No matter what she felt and her heartache. Witch! They shouted.
She longed for the freedom of her days. I turned off the radio. Bone pain, soul pain. There is no greater condemnation than the slavery of a life.
Killing your soul
In the sky some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun, black birds...
-Bad omen.- I thought.
I turned off the radio angrily. The sweet ballads fell silent without protest.
My disdainful gaze fell on yours.
Your eyes, which once made me fall in love with the caress of the one who loves, now... only returned contempt because, without knowing it, you were killing your soul.
-I don't love you. you said.
There are no more lies or learned words.
The black birds were leaving with the sun... I left with them that day.
Untitled
...That descended on men to take revenge; They ate their eyes, pecked their marrows, cut their fingers, dug their mouths and pulled out our souls, huddled and battered, they freed us from a beautiful death. They took flight with our ears in their beaks, the radio transmitted the last ghosts of this city, we screamed, but we couldn't hear each other. They settled near the antenna, they like music, eating eardrums and bells, we climbed to the eagle's nest, we slept on the edge of the abyss, we took care of the rest of the spirits, until one morning...
Announcer
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds announced his end: His last morning on the radio. More than forty years accompanying listeners. More than half a life, close to the inhabitants. With tears nearby, he said goodbye. Thousands of stories told, thousands of anecdotes day after day. Live, without pause...
Today, these were his last words on those microphones worn by his voice.
In the street, under the black birds, a group of people waited for him to thank him for his dedication.
Death
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds that yearned for freedom.
Melodies on the radio, company for the traveler. He breathed, walked and observed. I will never leave this land! He repeated. It has given me what I am in life.
When death arrived, he humbly said: I don't know what I will find there, but this island gave me everything I wanted.
Silent death enveloped him with its black cloak and let his spirit wander on the seashore. The sweet melody continued.
To Rafael
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds like jet. They are the fruit of your imagination and your hours. They finished your creation, but they keep flapping their wings. They live anywhere. Magic pen that with its back and forth you wrapped stories, memories and magic.
Your memory beautifies the Canary Islands. What better tribute, Rafael, than to continue immortalized in the most beautiful words!
While I was driving, I listened to the radio announcer this heartfelt closeness.
Hero
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds like Peter's destiny.
They foreshadowed the end of his life, the end of his world, an end he would avoid for them, for everyone, except for himself. Riding his special motorcycle, with his headphones on, listening to his latest playlist created on the radio, before traveling there.
On the way to the great volcano with the antiproton bomb in his backpack, he would be a hero, he would be a martyr, for glory...
He longed for his home, he longed for Earth.
Breakup
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds that foreshadowed our breakup.
You didn't speak, I was silent. Only the songs that marked our love were heard on our favorite station. Sitting in that car and our eternal silence that foreshadowed our farewell. No guilt, no wounds. Failed attempts leading to nothing. Sadness of the soul.
Near Timanfaya our last sigh, our final kiss. It's time for a new flight! In the background: Show must go on...
Untitled
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black and wild birds were the most shocking news on the radio at that moment: "This morning, in the park, an old eyeless man now knows what the crows he was raising eat."
Allende
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds flew with Salvador, it was undoubtedly a bad omen. But that September 10, 1973, he was not there for that nonsense, nor for the comments about the saber rattling that the radio stations were talking about, he could not waste time with those trifles, he had a lot to fix in his beloved Chile, a lot to achieve for his countrymen and little time to do it.
He did not yet know the shortness of the deadline.
Guernica
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds that, upon flying over my branches, deposited the death and horror they carried without respecting the newly released spring, the sirens announced the horror, the radio spread its dismay to the world, Picasso captured it. Not one of my branches was damaged, I resisted like an oak, proud to be from Guernica. That day, the work of the artist from Malaga was elevated and allowed another painter, this one a failure and turned tyrant, to rehearse the horror with which he would devastate Europe.
Castaway
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds flew over them. He rubbed his saltpeter-rimmed eyes, when he considered that his eyes would not deceive him, he rested his chin on the railing... beyond the mist that the sea gave off, behind the splashes of foam, he saw something dark, he focused his vision until his eyes hurt and he knew that the black birds announced his salvation, it was land what he saw, their squawks seemed like his favorite song on the radio.
Lightning
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds...
...rode his thoughts, dissolving the lubricious effervescence that united him to that intern, Charo. The image caused him discordant screams like a detuned radio, everything rushed, spasms, guards, nurse, doctors. They put his arms in long blind sleeves, tied them behind his back, lying on the cold stretcher, the lightning inhabited his head, again the vortex of images, again spasms and finally fade to black.
He was closer to becoming a vegetable.
Alfred
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds...
that's what they seemed to him, everything looked like birds... despite the years that have passed since it happened... he kept seeing birds everywhere.
"I should never have accepted Alfred's proposal..."
He turned off the radio, its sounds seemed like squawks... he would end up going crazy... if he wasn't already.
"I was chosen to star in it... the fear of birds and the nonsense that Alfred wanted to do, made the role go to that silly Tippi, although she didn't come out well either."
Wish
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds circling the radio station's antennas.
It seemed that the radio frequency it emitted calmed them. Every sunset the same thing happened since the Construction Company set its sights on the land. Those birds had prevented a good deal.
Now the battle for space was being fought in the courts, about to fail, those men did not miss the opportunity to torture them again one more afternoon.
It would be the last...
Sun and Beach
In these vacation days, tourism has gone wild and if the best weather forecasts loom over the Mediterranean coastal areas due to climate change, Iberian and foreign tourism will come to a screeching halt and with this I keep seeing tourists and nationals glued to their radio on the beach, some wonder about the life and works of Arozarena. In the high places of our Island I see some black birds burning their feathers in the sun because in the end, more than enjoying the summer, we would suffer it. I see fun beach games.
Untitled
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds... The fire loomed over the scarce vegetation, food for their young, and dangerously approached their nesting area.
The wind inexorably stirred the flames and the raucous squawks of the birds made the observer look up. The females covered with their bodies and outstretched wings the place where they were, so that the young could resist as much as possible.
From the station, the announcer tried to convey the anguish of those beautiful birds, perched on the cliffs of the mountain. The golden eagles were in danger.
Birds
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds that darkened the sky like a plague of locusts.
On the radio, the population was reassured, they were passing through, they said. But the truth was that the phenomenon was very strange.
First it was the fish, then the plants that began to secrete toxins with which they killed the herbivores and now the birds, migrating north, towards the cold, towards suicide.
Will we be next?
What did we do wrong?
Too bad it was only a dream
You know what I dreamed? That I was walking down the streets. Too bad it was only a dream...
I slept late that night, because the black birds wouldn't leave my mind.
Scared...like me.
Furious...like me.
Looking for the sunlight...like me.
The four safe walls that guarded me returned my gaze, accustomed to my monotonous presence. My refuge, my prison. The four of them, the excessive enthusiasm of the radio announcer announcing the latest summer hit, and me.
Closing my eyes, I search longingly. I walk the streets. Too bad it's only a dream...
Untitled
Those black birds in the sky, augured a bad omen for him, however, he knew he would try.
He had had a wonderful life and would fight to get it back.
He lost it and without it, nothing made sense anymore.
Life had surprised him again, hearing her voice through the airwaves and in the background that melody they both danced to, he understood that it was his last chance, and he shouldn't waste it.
He looked at the sky and those black shadows were gone, the sun was shining like never before, and it radiated enormous energy.
He ran to find her, as if his life depended on it.
Story
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds...
He finished reading "Mararía" on the radio, those present and the listeners were astonished.
They were aware of the narrator's circumstances. They dared not utter a word, a gesture of a hand made the music play on the airwaves.
In the head omens of literature, of cinema, or were they prophetic?
Come on Carlos, you're done here.
The chimpanzee got up from his chair, took his friend's hand and they left.
Eternal love
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds that did not presage anything good.
In the hospital he slept while the radio played, attached to the tubes of life, he dreamed of his beloved, that girl with black eyes.
He opened his eyes and went to her, fear nothing, I have seen it, we will go together.
Seventy years guaranteed her faith in him, she calmed down, she stopped crying.
First a constant beep appeared, then a hand took her and she left with him.
The Sunset
In the sky some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds like the future that awaited us.
From everywhere more birds began to arrive, together they glided aimlessly from one side to the other, as in an ancestral dance; shortly after, there were so many that they almost eclipsed the sun. When there were enough to completely cover it, they began to fly in circles over themselves, moving just enough so that the light never reached us.
Hours later, the town radio announced the news that the parrot from the pet store was cheerfully singing that funeral song: "Lord, you have looked into my eyes..."
Dull Sequins
In the sky some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds that finally fled, taking with them the reflections of the sequins that covered their black plumage.
I turned on Radio Lanzarote as always to hear the news. It was in that bloody bullfight, the last of the festivities, when I decided to turn the sun into a bull, and all the bullfighters into crows.
Squawks
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds.
The squawks of the birds remained in his head like the murmur of the waves already far from the sea. He turned off the radio and went back to his life. He looked out the window and experienced again the sadness of the city. Then, he stared intently at the handkerchief -a sleeping animal- that the woman had forgotten.
He collapsed on the sofa and thought that she was still in those squawks.
You just have to fly
Radio announcement: "Attention! Three black birds are flying over the horizon. Beware, they can be dangerous!"
One fluttered, circling over the others, like a desolate sergeant when his soldiers did not follow his trail. He gave up, seeing his attempt fail.
The second flew from right to left, from left to right, like the shadow of one who seeks the way, having lost his way and not knowing the direction.
The third let himself be carried away, one destiny, two traveling companions. Rocking with the wind, caressed by the sun, caught in the breeze,...
The three of them fly across the sky without knowing where they are going... they just have to fly.
Business
In the sky, some birds flew frightened and squawked furiously; large birds that tangled among the horns of the sun; black birds mixed in a murky cloud, blacker than the one that strolled across the sky, scaring away all kinds of bugs.
In the distance, bullets whistled, cutting through the air, and the radios couldn't keep up with their shelter alerts.
The man scratched his chin and changed the dial until he found some music while he thought that tomorrow he should go to the wholesaler.
The day promised to be prosperous and he was short of ammunition to sell.
Untitled
...black as the future foreshadowed by the radio news, which you and I paid no attention to. For us, the future was an illusion, without paying attention to the strident cries of birds or dogs, like heralds announcing the terrible imminence. With hope in our backpack, and the sea as our destination. We will steal the sun from the birds, their fear will be our strength, their fury our courage, their blackness our dawn.
