The IX Short Story Contest of Radio Lanzarote - Onda Cero, dedicated this year to César Manrique on the occasion of his centenary, has already received the first stories. The submission period opened on July 1 and will end on August 31. Until then, those interested can send their stories to the email [email protected], with a maximum length of 100 words, including the title if it has one.
Regarding the theme, this edition must feature César Manrique or one of his landscape works, such as the tourist centers of Jameos del Agua or the Montañas del Fuego, or one of the houses inhabited by the artist.
The decision of the contest, organized in collaboration with the César Manrique Foundation, will be made public in the second half of September. As for the prizes, the winner will receive a television valued at around 300 euros, a pack of products from Manrique's centenary and a pack of books published by the Foundation. The second prize will be a tablet valued at around 200 euros, a pack of centenary products and a pack of books published by the FCM; and the third winner will receive wireless headphones valued at around 100 euros, as well as a pack of centenary products and a pack of books.
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 read in the 'Reading on the Radio' space of Radio Lanzarote-Onda Cero and will be published in order of receipt in La Voz de Lanzarote. These are the first:
Untitled
From his mound he scanned the horizon in case he felt him arrive. Rarely did his playmate miss the appointment.
Will you come running today, happy and full of energy, making me lie down with your hug, or tired and without the strength to climb on my back?
Will you make me shudder with stories from the other side of the ocean, from other lands and other people, or will you stay by my side silent and almost immobile?
I am used to your mood swings and I am not surprised by either your laughter or your anger.
After all, I'm just your toy, wind.
Untitled
Here they come! You can already hear their footsteps, their laughter, their comments about me. Not that I care, I'm used to it. It's been more than fifty years enduring this coming and going!
But I wonder what changed. Because those who once traveled through my entrails, did so with haste, they did not revel in my forms. Their bare and light feet led them to the most recondite parts of my being, and there they remained hidden for days on end.
I still have impregnated in my skin the smell of their fear, their anguish and anxiety. And I feel the presence of some soul that remained with me forever.
In Capital Letters
A hundred years ago, Arrecife cradled its first awakening.
Ecstasy of volcanic tubes;
They are the Jameos, spectacular beauty.
Barbecue with a large Oven in the revered Timanfaya.
Heading towards the majestic ocean, you can see the great Maritime Park.
Move walker, do you feel?
Chinijo Archipelago, incredible landscape from the Mirador del Río.
No one doubts the sovereignty of the cactus;
Breathe deeply, reality catches.
Like a visual rest, a pleasant taste to the palate.
His exquisite works remain, an artistic game of imagination.
Union of freshness, art and living nature.
It is César, a king without a crown, although Neptune never abandons him.
.
Poor Devil
Cornered, exhausted, barefoot, shirtless and still with the pitchfork in hand as his only defensive weapon, he saw a black sea of volcanic rocks appear that under that scorching sun incited his sore feet to continue fleeing.
Perhaps he could cross the badlands that kept him away from his freedom.
Fleeing the bad country that persecuted him for his ideas was his only option.
He could, finally, feel the stinging of the sea on his bloodied feet and observe in the distance the Montañas del Fuego before being shot down.
He and She
He, cradled by his people in Arrecife, puts on his shoes. Ingenuity and imagination surround him.
She, barefoot; silently gives him respite in the Civil War.
He does not rest, studies, travels and creates; small and large Jameo. Why not a viewpoint? Perhaps a cactus garden will embellish the landscape.
She, distant and cold, observes the Timanfaya. She delights in the fire of the great Oven. In the distance, she glimpses an original Vaguada.
At the beginning of autumn, She decides her cruel destiny. He is trapped in her black cloak. Lanzarote welcomes her spirit, creation and art.
The Ritual
"If you have died before the age of 100, you can be reborn, on your centenary, when someone pronounces your name three times backwards? syllabically"
July 24, 2019, everything is arranged on the sands of El Reducto. The announcer, attentive to the last rays of sun disappearing behind the mountains, is the moment, begins to pronounce his name. Silence surrounds him.
Far from there, before the jubilant eyes of those gathered, the stones that cover his tomb begin to crumble, causing the small radio to fall while a deep voice is heard:
-QUERIMAN SARCÉ, QUERIMAN SARCÉ, QUERIMAN SARCÉ-
The games of the wind
It is for your candor, my beautiful girl,
your dark complexion and black hair,
for that grace, with which you carry,
that sieve and the hat.
And it is for the dance of your steps
when approaching the farroguero
what enamors the trade wind;
that child of very high flights.
How insolent is that air
that playing tangles your hair!
Leave the girl alone, wind!
Go play with your rattle!
