More than 100 micro-stories are already competing in the Radio Lanzarote-Onda Cero literary contest. Those interested can still send their short stories until August 31st to the email address concursorelatos@lanzarotemedia.net. The stories must have a maximum of 100 words, including the title, and the radio must be part of the plot.
The winner will receive a dinner for two at the restaurant La Tegala de Germán Blanco, in Mácher, while the runner-up will enjoy a spa voucher for two people at the Centro Talasoterapia Costa Calero, in Puerto Calero. Finally, the third prize will be a gift basket from the Equivalenza perfumery, in the Arrecife Shopping Centre, which can be for men, women or children.
Below, you can read the more than 20 stories received during the last week.
Title: Tuning.
Author: Cristina Domínguez Peyronnet.
Tomás decided on the meals, television channels, car, apartment, neighborhood, Maria's clothes and the length of her hair. The only thing that she felt as her own was the radio, which he allowed her to keep as a redoubt of her lifeless will. The night she burned dinner, Tomás kidnapped the machine and took it with him, after changing the frequency, to the bathroom, to the rhythm of tango. She followed him after a while, entered, clasped her true companion in her hands and joined Tomás in the bathtub, two irreconcilable and a short circuit.
Title: Fisherman
Author: Felipe H F
Before the first light of day, our friend Luis would go out with his rod on his shoulder, thinking about where he could get the daily wage to feed his family. With these thoughts, friend Luis, with his paused but firm rowing, reached the fishing ground where he anchored his small boat. He prepared his fishing gear to start fishing, but friend Luis did not know that the fish would be him, as the radio gave the news: fisherman found dead in his boat with his rod firmly grasped in his hands.
Title: The Letter
Author: Mario M. Relaño
Sting was playing on the radio while I wrote her a letter without words. The letter was only made up of circles drawn with my tears. But that didn't stop me from putting it in a white envelope and sending it to her. She would understand.
Two days later the letter was returned to me with a stamp that said: "addressee unknown".
I think it was the third time I had made the same mistake: sending a letter to the woman of my dreams.
Title: The blackout
Author: Cala
And on the other side of the radio, nothing. Excitedly she awaited the return of the light; how many hours would she deceive sleep; expectant despite the scarce moon she waited. She needed the stories of her favorite program; she waited under the sheets; she could embrace them and the air that enveloped them. She asked the darkness for the time. "If I don't hear it today," she said, "sleep will overcome me."
The light entered behind the glass like other early mornings, her delicate hands unbuttoned her nightgown. Then, almost immediately, she bared her breast and placed it in her baby's hungry mouth.
Title: You are my love
Author: Joanlid
On a barbecue night, the Eros Ramazzoti song played on the radio and we danced close together. Who would have thought that our love story was beginning, with the person I least imagined, but you are capable of giving everything for me. What irony of life, so close and yet so far, although in the end together, united by the music of the radio that gave us the first step, the rest we wrote ourselves with our love, day by day as if it were that first one.
If someone doesn't believe in love, I tell them that it exists, just look around.
Title: I Miss You
Author: Tania Cabrera Fernández
There are many questions
And I will never find an answer
And even though I will cry for you now all my life
I know that you are gone and that you will never return
I know that I lost you and I couldn't do anything to prevent it
I know that your departure will hurt me all my life
I know that I will never forget you.
Even in dreams I see you by my side
We still play like when we were children
We still laugh with my occurrences and quirks
I still remember your songs from the radio, that music
that you used to like so much and that you used to sing with your voice
Now in heaven it is the angels who enjoy your presence
It is they who have you there....
Time will pass and a lifetime will not be enough to forget you .
Title: Music in tragedy
Author: Inés Francisco
I hung up the phone and floated to the bathroom, it was very hot and the blouse refused to leave me; naked at last, and since today the news was in my life, I tuned the radio looking for music, turned up the volume, opened the shower and millions of drops of water fell like a torrent on my face; I started humming first, then a timid chest do, and with the chorus came the scream: I vomited all the pain through my mouth.
Title: Expensive impulses
Author: Inés Francisco
"Devour me again, devour me again?" A trickle of white smoke descended unnaturally to the asphalt, while millions of crystals mixed with thin sheets of steel that pressed against his hunched body; his mouth now tasted of childhood, of the taste of wounds; people crowded around him, he barely felt them far away, distant, absent? The music continued playing in his head and then he was certain that he would never devour her again.
Title: Sunday afternoons
Author: Inés Francisco
I put my hands in the bucket and put the bait back on the hook, I always wondered how he managed to place the director's chair in that irregular and dangerous landscape. The transistor on top of the rock could be heard loud and clear, we sang the goals in unison and our spirits rose according to the successes in the football pools? ? Don't get out of the puddle, Marcialito, the sea is rough.
Title: Attenuated loneliness
Author: Inés Francisco
She hit it twice with her hand, she had tried removing, shaking and blowing the batteries, and even with the tip of a pencil she had stretched and straightened the springs. She turned to the dresser drawer in search of the old cable, but only found a yellow paper with the instructions. Determined, she premiered the gray cardigan from the Three Kings, took her crutch and half an hour later she was back and in the company of the invisible and faithful presence that was the radio in her life.
Title: "Alone at dawn"
Author: Eduardo Cartolano
The rain did not stop and the wind beat loudly against the branches of the trees, forming serpentine figures that gave me chills just seeing the shadows reflected in my window, where I watched the show, coffee in hand, about to leave to do my morning radio show. "Alone at dawn", that's what it was called, when I was about to go out, I looked in the mirror and saw myself, pajamas, sleepy face, teeth with toothpaste, messy hair, ............................. I realize that it has only been a beautiful dream.
Title: The last note
Author: Mickaël Martínez Metrouni
-Honey, I heard on the radio that there is a short story contest, the first prize is a dinner for two. Send a story.- she told me.
-No.
-You know you're good at writing.
-I'm good at it because nobody forces me to do it.-I replied.
She got angry, slammed the door and left, I knew it was time. I wrote her a note.
"I'm leaving you a story on the nightstand, if you win, order the pepper steak, they make it delicious."
I took a rope, tied it to the ceiling and invited death to dance.
Title: Hope
Author: Mercedes Fernández Alarcon
"Paint your face the color of Hope..." a beautiful song plays on the radio this cold winter afternoon, while a mother cries heartbroken, why are you crying mommy? says her son without understanding what is happening
suddenly the radio stopped playing and the lights in the house went out, look my child you have to be strong and have Hope as the song said because even if they cut off our electricity because we have no money and they throw us out
of the house where you grew up, may your heart not hate my child, my dear child always have faith.
Title: Casta diva
Author: Jose Luis Arnal Gonzalvez
Resigned, I turn on the radio, the CD player doesn't work and I can't drive without background noise. Random station, news, nothing special, the month of August is what it is, more of the same ad nauseam? And, suddenly, between sections, a sublime, breathtaking aria? Norma sings to the moon that dyes the plants silver. I sketch a smile, it's seven o'clock, I'm going to work; I'm tired, it's still Wednesday. But today I'm not just another automaton among many, intoxicated with beauty I watch the sunrise. If it weren't for these moments?
Title: Child's play
Author: Ana Negrín
"A simple device made a small creature still playing in a 70 x 140 crib happy, perhaps in the afternoons and nights. A device capable of filling him with curiosity, with which despite "torturing" it as all babies do with everything around them, he took care of it in his own way, it caught his attention and he could spend hours tuning stations without knowing what that world in his hands consisted of.
They say time to time, that baby changed the crib for a studio. His life is radio".
Title: Factory
Author: Julia GR
The words I want to capture but don't want to hear are echoing in my head. I turn on the radio, turn up the volume?it doesn't work: they're still here, I can still hear them. And my tears won't be able to erase them, they won't be able to smudge the ink of what I write. But I have the belief that if they come out of me I can shape them, lose them and get rid of them.
I turn up the volume a little more?I close my eyes and my index fingers look for the notches of the letters j and f on my keyboard so I don't have to correct what I write:
It was a day like today two years ago when?.
Title: The voice
Author: Felipe HF
Sitting at the bus stop without knowing where destiny would leave him. Because he was just there and he couldn't see a future, not even that stop of illusion and the will to live. Then a car stopped with the window open and he heard a voice that made him raise his head and look for that voice that reminded him of times of partying, rounds and good times and when he heard it say goodbye to you. Francisco José and the car started and he couldn't hear how the farewell ended but he finished it. Navarro from Radio Lanzarote
Title: Night forecasts
Author: Cedes Rdgz
Every night, after observing the sky, he would go to bed with the radio glued to his ear. It was enough for him to know what was "cooking" in the world even though he couldn't do anything about the disasters he heard on the news. But above all, it was the weather report that interested him the most. To know if what he had observed in the sky would come true. If it would be windy, hot... or the longed-for rain would arrive.
Those voices, now so familiar, had become a necessity for him, the lullaby to sleep in conciliation with the universe.
Title: Peaceful magic
Author: Ricardo Gómez Tovar
He's still sleeping like an angel in his crib. At ten o'clock he opened one eye and made a move to wake up, but he thought better of it. He must have perceived in his snowy half-sleep the soot resting on the electromagnetic waves. I have a lullaby ready in case he returns to reality prematurely. It begins with an alabaster whole note and ends in a hopeful half note. I turn off the radio and tune in to the trail of his light. I contemplate him and breathe his gentle peace, drawing arabesques with his baby profile. He also does magic. Just yesterday, he babbled an abracadabra without a wand.
Title: Death
Author: Susana Carrasco González
Angel woke up to the soft purr of his radio, which he had left on all night, the same talkative one that had lulled his dreams until he was plunged into the deep lethargy of Morpheus. He takes a sip,-"oh what a delicious iced must!"(he thinks to himself) and goes out to meet the homeless man downstairs to invite him to have churros for breakfast; Then he vanishes like a feather and his soul is detached to embark on the last journey, he tries to sew it back to his body, but they are already calling him from the other side waving their hands among murmurs, shadows, spindly figures?he sees a tunnel, an opaque white light attracts him from the bottom, and drags him far, far away?
Title: Determination
Author: Echeyde Rodríguez
The determination of that aspiring writer was never well accompanied by high doses of talent, however the stubbornness of scribbling incoherent arguments with the occasional spelling mistake was the best escape route from his ragged existence.
This somewhat visceral exposition of his stories was not a handicap when it came to looking for the reason why he wrote .
Was it perhaps a transitory entertainment, a vocation dormant in the laurels of inactivity, or a mere amusement that took him away from the jolts of boredom?
He wanted to be among the seven finalists
Title: Radiant sun with the smell of salt
Author: I. Torres S.
Radiant sun and moon, for us, always full.
Our childhood and adolescence was spent on that magical pier. The first kisses and tears of love. Everything was shared with those friends you never forget. Day and night, swimming, singing and dancing to the rhythm of the chords of an old transistor radio.
How little we needed to be happy: the sea and the radio.
Memories impregnated with the smell of salt, innocence, illusions, smiles and freedom.
Untitled
Author: Ignacio Pacheco Cabrera
One night a laugh woke her up. She thought it was the radio. But, when she looked at the shelf, the doll moved its head and smiled at her. It had been a week since her uncle had fixed it, stuffing it with sawdust from the backyard, which belonged to a crematorium. Every night he would come down, whisper things in her ear and touch her. Nobody believed her, until she got sick and her mother, holding her in her arms, saw him smile. Days later, the father burned it. But the uncle was never seen again. They say that he suddenly burned, leaving his shadow on the sidewalk.
Title: Requiem
Author: Mercedes Fernández Alarcón
Fernando jumped off the balcony, he found no other way out, now it's news on the town radio, he lost his job, his house, his money, the anguish of living pierced his soul, he was no longer part of society and he wanted to be part of heaven. A handful of bills were the cause, the ones that stained his body with blood when he fell, now your grave is the home from which you were evicted, it is the dead who must protect you, the stars your faithful companions, you found peace Fernando, the peace they wanted to sell you.
Title: The Leonese ghost of Starbucks
Author: José Manuel Gómez Vega
When leaving Paris everything seems different. I turn around and see that now the bar has an impossible name. I go back in. No sign of the old Adagio. I open the newspaper and check, horror!, that La Cultural is in the Third Division. I faint. When I recover, the toothless Adagio returns to its corner, and I no longer have any doubts.
After winning the league I call to leave a message on the radio, which is immediately broadcast by the Diario Hablado: «Ghost looking for ghost to share eternity together. Waiting, as always, in Paris».
Title: Communication
Author: Juan Herminio García-Zeballos
As he usually did, when he got up he turned on the radio and remembered that old medieval romance he used to sing as a child: "For the month it was May when it is hot?". He washed his face and sat on the bed to wait for breakfast time; the coffee and the two cookies were left punctually every day in the revolving opening of the armored door.
Then, nothing until the next day, where the ritual would be repeated and repeated in perpetuity. The talking device was his only connection to the outside world.
Title: The yellow rose
Author: rricardo her
Wow, it was so hot today! . Again the sun dazzled her through the "crack" in the window.
Joanna sat on her favorite bench and, folding her hands in her lap, prepared to do what, for some time now, was her only pastime: watching life go by. Just like that...
-"Free, like the sun when it dawns, I am free..."
She turned to the radio with a bitter smile. How she loved Nino Bravo!
She looked out at the empty street. Everything was the same. Ah...no...in the garden opposite a beautiful yellow rose had been born.
Title: Illumination
Author: Rocío de Juan
It was a day at the end of January. She had heard it on the radio, but the letter she had received confirmed the black news. She went out into the street, determined not to give the sender the satisfaction of her conformism. She returned with a box of candles and a candlestick, and contentedly threw the electricity bill in the trash.
Title: The transport
Author: Cathaysa Morales Martín
Miles and miles of distance separate me from you, but I decide to go looking for you. I turn on the car radio and feel like I'm eating the world, the music awakens my senses, I admire the landscape, the fading sunset, that monument that is left behind, and you, who are still so far away. And why keep going, keep going after the unattainable? I stop the car with the radio on and throw myself on the sand looking at the sky. Finally only the voice of the radio station manages to transport me far from here, to where you are.
Title: Clean soul
Author:Luisa María Perdomo Acuña
We walked together along the wonderful and incomparable Famara beach. In the distance a soft melody could be heard that reminded me of the music we used to listen to on that old radio and as you took my hand, images of everything we have lived together passed through my mind. "I love you", you have a clean, transparent soul, only comparable to the water that springs pure and crystalline from the spring of life. I would like to dive into it and admire the hidden treasures that can be glimpsed through your gaze.
Title: Distant dreams
Author: Miriam Hernandez
He kept dreaming that one sunny August afternoon he would return to caress her white hair. He kept dreaming that they would dance together the same bolero with which they had begun their romance, he fantasized about forbidden kisses and chords saved forever in that old radio. On the other side of the Atlantic, he kept dreaming of her fiery, salty gaze, he had not forgotten the tenderness of her words and, in secret, he waited for her.
Title: Buried memories
Author: Miriam Hernandez
She looked one last time at that yellowed photo and again contemplated the almond-shaped eyes of that slender girl, so full of life. Then she put it away forever, like the radio on which she used to listen to that forbidden station, like the old vinyl records, like her heart.
Title: Summer nights
Author: Miriam Hernandez
The moon came playfully closer to caress their faces in love. They danced embraced to that bolero that played on grandpa's old radio. With the taste of saltpeter on their skin, they loved each other unrestrained until the sky was covered with stars. Then they counted them, played with them and dreamed dreams of foam and sea spray. When the sun arrived it bathed them with its brightness and together, they set off on the road to a new life.
Title: Magic voices
Author: Miriam Hernandez
He always kept a smile inside the top hat so that at any moment, he could do magic. He turned on his old radio to listen again and again to that sweet voice full of nuances that had managed to awaken his wrinkled heart. He closed his eyes to feel her closer and, in his own way, he was happy.
