Twilight's Flash Fiction / Relatos cortos crepusculares

Chains I am on the black top of a promontory. Darkness. It is a dark night and the Moon is hidden by white, fragile, thick clouds. I begin to hear a slight murmur that slowly becomes more perceptible. Distant flashes accompany the macabre sound. The cold is felt in the face, in the hands, and as the murmur becomes more present, the flashes of the torches clearly reveal a procession of black robes, one after another, their faces hidden. The murmur is becoming understandable in some way, they are broken phrases, they are the dark prayers of the penitents. As they approach, the slow dragging of the chains is distinguished, one for each sin. I try to go unnoticed, but one of the penitents leaves the procession and comes to me. I can only see a black surface under his thick hood and a guttural sound warns me of my future. Without knowing how, I find myself forming part of the procession, wearing a black habit and occupying the last place, and my hands are not able to distinguish the featu...

  Lungs and brain And his brain proposed to his lungs to stop breathing. After all, it was lost in the immense reality of that pandemic. His lungs then proposed to his brain to stop thinking. And when his brain stopped thinking, his lungs were able to breathe and keep up with the rhythm of his heart.   Pulmones y cerebro Y su cerebro le propuso a sus pulmones que dejaran de respirar. Al fin y al cabo estaba perdido en la inmensa realidad de aquella pandemia. Sus pulmones entonces le propusieron a su cerebro que dejara de pensar. Y cuando su cerebro dejó de pensar, sus pulmones pudieron respirar y seguir el ritmo del corazón.

  Colors When the roses are born in your garden, water them with my tears and tell them our story. Tell them about the pain of our absence. Thus they will grow with the colors of life, the blue of the Arctic, the red of the savannah sunsets, the white of the cherry blossoms. And when someone cuts them to adorn the empty rooms, they will know what our love means.   Colores Cuando nazcan las rosas en tu jardín, riégalas con mis lágrimas y cuéntales nuestra historia. Háblales del dolor de nuestra ausencia. Así crecerán con los colores de la vida, el azul del ártico, el rojo de los atardeceres de la sabana, el blanco de los cerezos en flor. Y cuando alguien las corte para que adornen las vacías estancias, sabrán lo que significa nuestro amor.

  My home He had sat on a rung of the stairway to his house because he was unable to enter it. He had gone out to work in the morning and when he returned, a strange feeling predisposed him to flee from what seemed to have become a strange thing. After a time, which seemed endless, he plucked up his courage, got up, and climbed the steps that led to the door. He took out the key and, armed with a worrying calm, inserted it into the lock. He hardly had to turn the key. The lock seemed to be waiting for that key urgently. He entered what had been his beloved living room for many years, and now it seemed threatening, as if it had life. He began to hear a distant rumble that gradually changed in intensity until it became a deafening burst of   laugher. It was that house that had finally kidnapped him and from which he could never leave again.   Mi hogar Se había sentado en un peldaño de la escalera de acceso a su casa porque era incapaz de entrar en ella. Había salido...

Autora: Natalie English version : An extraordinary Carracosta story El más oscuro de los recuerdos   Era una noche más en Serene Village. Esa noche no fue tan tranquila como la mayoría de las noches, ya que la lluvia caía a cántaros. Un rayo atravesó el cielo mientras el trueno retumbaba poco después. El viento sacudía violentamente las ramas de los árboles.   Las casas estaban herméticamente cerradas. Los vecinos habían comprobado que las puertas estuvieran bien cerradas. Todo el mundo estaba intentando dormir a pesar del ruido de la tormenta.   Carracosta descansaba en su cama, tratando de dormir. La lluvia le recordó aquella noche de hacía dos años. La noche del día en que sucedió aquello. Las aletas de Carracosta descansaban sobre su cabeza.   Estos recuerdos no deberían acuciarme en estos momentos. ¡Ella está aquí ahora y eso es lo que importa! Pensó Carracosta. Miró por la ventana al cielo cubierto por la tormenta. —Ha pasado hora y media. ¿Tod...

  The Crimson Place In my dreams I have discovered a crimson place. At first, when he chose me, its image made me uneasy, but I admit that he was attracting me. Slowly, I made my way to it. The trees formed a dense roof of green and blue and folded behind my steps, thus closing my return. As I moved towards the center, time went back faster and faster. So when I got to the center I had become a helpless little boy. The crimson grass was growing and swayed when the soft orange wind was present, and the thoughts, turned into great multi-colored birds, flew over the transparent pearls that the trees dropped and then they were ascending towards infinity carried by the multi-colored birds.   El lugar carmesí En mis sueños he descubierto un lugar carmesí. Al principio, cuando me eligió, su imagen me produjo un cierto desasosiego, pero reconozco que me atraía. Con paso lento, me dirigí hacia él. Los árboles formaban un tupido techo de color verde y azul y se plegaban tras mis...