Title: I love you so much!
Author: Anonymous Rabbit
"Andrea had lost her beloved puppy this vacation. She couldn't understand, as S.A.R.A. said on the radio, how there could be people who would mistreat and abandon them, many claiming the crisis but without depriving themselves of hamburgers and whims. She went on vacation crying and almost came back that way; until 4 days later she saw something moving in the trash. It was him, her beloved puppy! He was dirty, with bugs, but she picked him up and kept telling him how much she loved him! And he responded with
big licks. How great is love...!"
Title: Summer Love
Author: Idaira Hernández Betancort
"It seemed like it was going to be the same summer, a summer like any other, with the same people and in the same place, but all that changed from the day I met you. It was on a trip that unexpectedly arrived. It was on that magical island where I met love. You were in front of me, we both kept looking at each other and while romantic music played on that radio, we unintentionally fell in love. Love arose and the
summer ended and with it all our hope. That's why I always dream of the arrival of each summer, to be able to see you and remember again, those beautiful days in which we both learned what it was to love."
Title: Blessed...innocence?
Author: Reyes María Concepción Betancor
"Look at her! There she goes!
She moves her buttocks and struts as if nothing. What nerve!
Her pink bikini barely covers her below the navel, while the sun
toasts her bare torso.
She smiles with red "cheeks" and tangled hair, she smiles with the
"treachery and premeditation" of her two years.
Staggering on her chubby feet, she walks across the hot sand. She takes the beach shovel, lifts it and drops it hard
on Antoñito's back.
-"Ouch!", Antoñito shouts.
-"Bad!", she replies in "fair" revenge. He hit me first.
She looks at me, I discreetly turn up the music..."
Title: The Watcher
Author: Reyes María Concepción Betancor
"This summer I bring my chair, my headphones and...I'm not moving from here.
Ah...!. Sitting in the sun, fresh air, scanning the horizon, without missing
a detail...
Like those two. Look at them! Fooling around on the mattress.
They're going to fall! They're going to...! Didn't I tell you? They already fell into the water!
No...and on top of that they wave their arms greeting me.
Oh God! They've caught me watching them!
I can't even gawk in peace at the beach!
They sink...
They've been underwater for a long time.
They're going to drown!
They're coming out! They're so silly.
They're so... wow! They're my husband and son!"
Title: Island, Summer and Radio
Author: Fefo García
"ISLAND: How I feel you prisoner of the freedom of the sea!
Your beauty engenders infinite hope that each day perpetuates your
birth, fruitful captive welcome of the sea and those that burst into you, my island, land of all.
SUMMER: Attractive accomplice of tanned illusions. Exuberances eager for loving saltpeters, full of sunny ecstasies. Source of infinite beauty and exterior reverie that the beach, the wind, the sun and the earth offer us without counterparts: freedom.
RADIO: Intrepid communicator, glamorous media warrior, like a lulling revelry that makes us dream awake? if you connect."
Title: The Sea
Author: Gloria Hernández Rodríguez
"The sea. 1970s, daughter of a sailor and second to last of 7 siblings, at home it almost always smelled like summer. When my father arrived after 5 or 6 months on board, loaded with sacks of salted fish, salt? and occasionally with tuna; those days on the radio you no longer heard the La Costera station, the only one to communicate with the sailors, (my mother would speak and then say: over and out), my older sister would play music at full volume and the neighbors knew that my father was already home. The sea, always the sea?"
Title: "One small step...?"
Author: Alexis de la Cruz Otero
"I hear on the radio that Neil Armstrong has died and I evoke that magical and remote summer of '69, when, as a child, I landed on the island of volcanoes. I remember that in Lanzarote I felt like the little prince on his asteroid. For a few weeks I fulfilled the forbidden dream of every child, to be an astronaut like my idol. I explored caves, collected samples, discovered hidden life among the gerias. When it was time to leave, I didn't want to leave that land. Other men walked on the Moon later, but I, alas, have not set foot on Lanzarote again."
Title: "Midsummer Night's Dream"
Author: Nikita
"She ran barefoot on the beach, sandals in hand and the wind in her
hair. He perceived a different aroma among the familiar aroma of
saltpeter, he turned his head and then their eyes met. His sky-colored eyes tangled with hers and were lost in the depths
of that ocean forever. It was only 3 seconds but it was
enough for their hearts to tune into the same station. The
summer song of that year became the soundtrack of their
story and played when they least expected it on the old radio cassette player of the SUV. It always made them shut up and listen, even if they were in the middle of a fight."
Title: "Paramnesia"
Author: Nikita
"They met again after a thousand years on another planet. They had barely changed, they even wore the same clothes, the same shoes, the same hairstyle. He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. She looked at him as if she had never lost him. It was barely a whisper: "You and I have already forgotten each other before." He whispered something in her ear, it was an old melody carried by sound waves on the backs of remote times. It came from the disassembled skeleton of an old radio buried under a blanket of lava on a lost island in a faraway place called Earth. When she recognized it, a tear of happiness welled up in her eyes. And then everything started again at minute 0:00."
Title: "Of Sirens, Castaways and Other Mirages"
Author: Nikita
"It was an ordinary summer afternoon. We drove along the dusty road down to the sea and on the radio played that song that you and I know. Today, 7 summers later I have to confess something... I tricked you, I just pretended to be asleep... I felt your caress on my cheek and saw your smile. That smile wasn't from someone who takes a girl somewhere to make her happy for a while. That smile was from someone who takes the girl of his dreams anywhere in the world where he can make her happy for the rest of his life. Sometimes when I hear the same song I close my eyes and your hand is still there, on my cheek. Then the sirens, the castaways and the mirages come alive again in the bay of La Caleta and I dive back into that blue lagoon where I learned to swim with you."
Title: Loneliness
Author: María Polentinos Fernández
"I arrived on the island at dawn, my vacation was beginning, which I presumed would be immensely romantic next to my absent boyfriend for a year. My boyfriend wasn't waiting for me at the airport, after an hour, he called me and told me he would be late. I waited another five hours in the airport cafeteria listening to the radio, with my red suitcase next to me, I think the waiters and customers felt sorry for me.
When he arrived, I was no longer there for anyone, my love had died, but my self-love had not. I took a taxi, went to a hotel and decided to spend that summer in the company of the sea and the radio.... More romantic impossible!"
Title: The Wind
Author: María Polentinos Fernández
"- For goodness sake, wash your hands well before going to bed!, I yelled.
-"Okay mom, how annoying you are, I'll wash my hands, brush my teeth, I'll
pee and I'll go to sleep!", my son yelled, raising his voice over the sound of the radio broadcasting a soccer game that my husband was listening to inside the hotel room.
The bad mood was evident in the family, the wind of the seemingly paradise island, was driving us crazy. What a vacation!, I thought, as I looked out the window to see the sea."
Title: Someone is Following Me
Author: Reyes María Concepción Betancor
"Where can I go that I won't be found?
He's been following me for a while. I turn around and there he is. He's found me again.
What do I do? Do I run?
An exhausting summer day, always looking back, because he was behind me.
I can't take it anymore!
I stop and confront him.
-"What do you want? Why are you following me?"- I snap impatiently.
The stranger frowns and says nothing.
-"Don't follow me anymore!", I threatened him almost unintentionally.
-"I'm not following you..., we're both going the same way."
And without further ado, he passed me.
That night the radio reported:
"Dangerous man wanted on the island..."
Title: Distract and Don't Steal
Author: Esteban Ramírez Viera
"You hear it without having to look at it, at home or in the car, in the countryside or on the beach. It barely takes up any space, it is very undemanding, a couple of batteries and that's it, and what a joy once the day is over to take it to bed and have it continue telling us things until sleep overcomes us, and we abandon it and when we wake up sometimes we don't know where but there it is, constantly accompanying us, sometimes under the pillow, sometimes under the sheet and sometimes on the floor. But you don't hear a reproach. Only.......information."
Title: Everyday Life
Author: José Luis Nogales Delgado
"Strange is the day when some cloud does not try to collapse the dawn. The wind here is in charge of winding the clock of the days: if it stops and does not blow, the struggle begins. The symbol of resistance, without a doubt, are the palm trees that swing their refusal to give in, while on the radio a waltz is heard that tries to match its rhythm to that of these disheveled masts of the environment.
I lost my hurry a month ago, when I realized that I can't always manage
my time because I must count on the wind blowing against me."
Title: "Not Today"
Author: Sindo Hernández
"I get up, turn on the radio and for breakfast I have the new unemployment rate, the cuts in health and education, the bailout of the banks, the always soaring risk premium, the deficit of the autonomous communities,... I go out into the street already on orange alert, fourth heat wave, the Canary Islands are burning in summer and the seaplanes come from Morocco. Already back El Hierro erupts and the tide of jellyfish gives way to the black tide of the oil exploration. I wake up... my eyes burn and I find it hard to breathe... today no radio, just beach and more micro-stories."
Title: Untitled
Author: Ignacio Pacheco Cabrera
"Suddenly, the earth cracked and from its interior emerged a summer that
split the island in two. It ran from Famara to Playa Honda. I
was surprised. I had never seen one like it. Countless surfers
passed in front of me taking advantage of the wave that had formed. It was
perfect and straight and dark in tone, not like the ones we are
used to seeing. The thing is, when this happened, my radio was left on the other side. It was strange, I had left it at full volume, but I couldn't hear anything. When I tried to go get it, I got trapped. And there I remain."
Title: Untitled
Author: Cristina Dolores Hernández Cabrera
"The evening light enveloped us and the music from the radio accompanied
our thoughts. Always looking at the horizon you told me your life stories and I, with a soda in my hand, watched expectantly. Almost every day of the summer we spent in front of the Arrieta pier and while we admired the sea, we delighted in each other's company and our conversations.
What great memories!
Even when I walk through the town I imagine a painting. In it you can see a
beautiful sunset, a table on a terrace and two silhouettes talking: you and me. To you. My grandfather."
Title: Golden Island
Author: Eliezer Navarro Ramírez
"From the sky the sun took pity on us, and transformed into a
beautiful boy with golden skin and hair, appeared on the coast after a small trail of orange light that was reflected on the shore. The golden youth, extended his arms to the moon and disappeared in the midst of a fleeting glow. No one knew what had happened. The next morning, the first rays of sunshine after 100 years of darkness, illuminated our fields. Since that day, the sun has never stopped shining on Golden Island, thus gladdening our spirits and hearts."
Title: Sleeping by the Sea
Author: Eliezer Navarro Ramírez
"When I woke up, everything had changed around me. The radio had
stopped playing and there was no one left there to notice.
Grain by grain, new dunes adorned the landscape that swayed gently in the wind. The sandcastles built on the shore were no longer there, only the wet mark of the water remained, drawing new silhouettes. And my skin, pale on arrival, now sported a slightly reddish color, burned and sore from the sun, of which few rays are now visible on the horizon. The stars awaken."
Title: Don't Give Up
Author: María Pintor
"On the island of Lanzarote runs the ink of life,
the spirit freezes and hope trembles.
In this sunset I know that today I will not sleep either,
In this transfigured, inert silence, my hope freezes
while the radio plays in the background.
Far, far away, I fly towards the ocean.
I already knew that you would always exist in me.
Tired, I rested my cheek on your hand,
you blew fresh air into my daze.
My existence has filled and emptied
with the same speed that you left.
My desire turns to dust, my intensity explodes alive
LIFE IS NOT YET DEFEATED!"
Title: Salt Gardens
Author: Tere Perera
"Armiche moved away from the corner where they had set up the hut. He smelled the summer as he jumped over the rocks that looked like Guanche knives.
Looking back, he saw his grandmother in the distance. He arrived at the
salt flats of the island. He observed the pink color of the cookers and the mysterious whiteness. He explored the windmills converted into castles of the place.
He ran, jumped, played... He disappeared among the saline snow.
When he heard voices that seemed to come from a nearby radio, with his eyes
reddened, he poked his head out of one of the piles. It was the voice of the
salt poet."
Title: Malvasia
Author: Tere Perera
"While listening to the radio, I watched her with greedy eyes. I caressed her body, as a blind man would, with calloused hands. I laid her on the table. I felt passion for what she kept inside. I almost tasted her secrets. Despite the years, I couldn't help it. I went for a glass from the cupboard in front of me. Gently, I touched her again. I was about to open it when I read: Harvest, summer of 1992. The dark year of César Manrique.
When I removed the cork stopper, the volcanic essence it gave off
accompanied the memory."
Title: Drawing Seasons
Author: Felicitis (Name: Carmen Ascensión)
"The most beautiful season of the year took me away from your side forever. My insistent desire to leave the island and go somewhere else, was your argument to destroy a love that blossomed in that season that envelops us all with its fun and color. I wanted to go back, but my pain was stronger. I felt like I was missing something to live for...but I endured the whole winter without you; even seeing the leaves fall and bloom again. Summer arrived and the radio reminded me, and that's when I sensed that life itself was a beautiful living."
Title: Mirage
Author: Roque Mejías Barroso
"The biggest moon greeted me as I left the bar. In front
a beautiful beach, of which there are many on my island, called me
and I went. Sitting on its fine sand, I felt the
sea breeze, softening the burning summer...
and she appeared!
Small, red-haired, light-eyed, smiling and approaching
slowly: a mermaid.
Without words, I sank into her arms and her juicy lips;
on the radio of some car it played
"...I would eat you with bread and butter..."
When I woke up, my beloved mermaid had disappeared; also
my watch, my wallet and my blackberry disappeared, but not
a tremendous hangover."
Title: News of the Days Not Lived
Author: Perenquén
"The first sun of July drew a perfect silhouette of
security bars on the wall. As soon as he released the thread that tied him to the last
dream, he remembered that this morning he would go out to clean the beach of Famara.
The day seemed as long as a blink...
On the way back to the Penitentiary Center and glued to his right ear,
traveled a battered radio that the sea had washed up on the
sand. Smiling like a child, he ignored the mockery they made of him for being crazy.
He had too many things to catch up on."
Title: The Poril
Author: Saúl Rojas
"The sweet trade wind caressed his fibrous body; the sea, the ocean,
slid over his feet, seasoning them with salt and tiny porous stones, the sun threw its rays making the pores of his skin cry and the distant whisper of some piece of classical music that emerged from a radio that rested between two stones made him slowly close his eyelids. And he, there lying on the pebbles of that black sand beach that massaged his back, followed the rhythm of time, listened to the sounds of silence."
Title: Summer and You
Author: Dr. Valky (Ángel Valiente)
"Tired, exhausted. Fed up with trade winds, heat waves and calima. Of
crisis, bailouts and risk premiums. Of fires, politicians and lies.
The radio, the TV, all the same. Everything is going wrong. Everything is wrong. I remember
those summers when the only premium I cared about was my
cousin Nuria. Those summers dreaming of you appearing.
I will always remember the best summer of my life. The summer you
arrived. This summer of trade winds, crisis, calima and risk premiums. The
summer you redeemed everything and turned it to gold. And you had to
be named after my cousin..."
Title: The Magic of a Moment
Author: Pilar Batista
"I remember your words, sitting as we were under the porch, the table set, the tablecloth stained with wine...
God! I can almost hear you!
But today I went out to the porch again and sat at the table, the
tablecloth clean, the glasses waiting... but you didn't come.
The island trapped you in its dream. I know it.
And yet, I've turned on the radio pretending I don't know, and
you know what? The music has brought back your image, and in my memory, I've heard your story again, it's summer again, and I've toasted you, even though you're no longer here."
Title: Untitled
Author: Rafael Santana Aguilera
"It seems incredible that 20 years have passed since I last saw him.
Always with his little transistor everywhere; many times he didn't even
listen to what the radio told him, but the simple fact of hearing
its background murmur was enough reason for him to be
calm and focused on his daily chores.
Like every summer, under the sun of his island and listening to his small, old radio. That's how I remember him. And that's how I see him today, 2 decades later,
while holding a photograph already worn by the passage of time."
Title: Traditional Tread
Author: Tere Perera
"The vines are silent, nestled in the arms of stone. It smells like summer, it's harvest time.
Mahey put in the basket, along with the golden bunches, the verses that
he heard on the radio as he left the volcanic sand behind, while the clouds were distracted by the stone curlews.
In the winepress, he squeezed, with bare feet, the bunches that jumped into the air with volcanic aromas. The grapes released a juicy must that produced a pleasant tickle.
He smiled excitedly when, closing his eyes, he got the image of his
grandfather with his rolled-up pants."
Title: Castaways
Author: Francesc Barberá Pascual
"Since we arrived on this desert island we are closer than ever. It can be said that the shipwreck has consolidated our relationship. Now we spend all day together, however we no longer argue. He has become the loving man I fell in love with again, and I am delighted. So far it is being the best summer of my life. But it seems that this happiness will not last long. Yesterday we found a radio transmitter and managed to send a distress signal. I just hope it takes them a long time to rescue us."
Title: Island, Summer and Radio
Author: Edel Santana
"Island, summer and radio, enjoy the warmth and color of having no pressure,
Lie down under the sun, run out of saliva, write love letters.
Imagine a world without problems, without wars and without hunger, with peace as its banner.
Island, summer and radio, is there anything better?
Is there anything better than lying under the sun, clearing your mind and
feeling this warmth?"
Title: Waiting
Author: Ignacio Pacheco Cabrera
"She left before the summer was over, like the wind that disappears in September. She wrapped herself in her brown skin, and with her absent-minded smile, and her long curls falling over her bare shoulders, she tried to say goodbye. But the words did not come out of her mouth but sprang from her eyes, like tears of forgotten love. They fell like islands without a sea. I collected them one by one, with my tongue, and kept them in my heart, for when I would see her cry them again with joy. In her absence and waiting for her, I write short stories, like this one, for the radio."
RELATED NEWS
[Deadline ends to enter Radio Lanzarote's micro-story contest->72752]
[Radio Lanzarote's micro-story contest enters the final stretch->72575]
[More than 50 micro-stories will compete for several prizes in Radio Lanzarote's literary contest->72574]
[La Voz publishes another 15 micro-stories competing in Radio Lanzarote's second short story contest->72520]
[Radio Lanzarote's contest continues to receive dozens of micro-stories->72509]
[Read the first 15 micro-stories submitted to Radio Lanzarote's contest->72403]
