Twilight's Flash Fiction / Relatos cortos crepusculares

Abandonment He is young. He is dirty. He has a beard. He is dressed in rags. The few times I have tried to approach him, he quickens his pace , as though expecting an insult or fearing that I might hurt him. His sadness moves me. Whenever I walk through that park, I see him. Never sitting. Always wandering, carrying a plastic bag that, I imagine, holds everything he owns. I often wonder where he sleeps. The street is probably his only refuge. Now, every night, before I say goodbye to the day, I think of him... and silently wish that he is safe. Desamparo Es joven. Está sucio. Tiene barba. Viste harapos. Las pocas veces que he intentado acercarme, acelera el paso , como si esperara un insulto o temiera que pudiera hacerle daño. Me conmueve su tristeza. Siempre que cruzo ese parque lo veo. Nunca sentado. Siempre deambulando, con una bolsa de plástico que, imagino, contiene todo cuanto posee. A menudo me pregunto dónde dormirá. La calle será, probableme...

W hen Time Thickens I have learned that I must not ask questions, any kind of questions. I have to allow time flows and not to thicken. My lives and my deaths depend on my having the ability to move time. I mean the warm time, the time of emotions. It must flow to be alive. If it thickens, it dies. Cuando el tiempo se espesa He aprendido que no debo hacer preguntas, ningún tipo de preguntas. Tengo que dejar que el tiempo fluya y que no se espese. Mi vida y mi muerte dependen de que tenga la capacidad de mover el tiempo. Me refiero al tiempo cálido, el tiempo de las emociones. Debe fluir para estar vivo. Si se espesa, muere.

Hours There are great hours like planets. There are small hours like dragonflies. And there are hours without dimensions. They are the hours that I am with you. Horas Hay horas grandes como planetas. Hay horas pequeñas como libélulas. Y hay horas sin dimensiones. Son las horas en las que estoy contigo.

Signs of the hidden Her mother died, and that eternal song that sounded inside her faded, little by little, until her spirit stopped listening. Her son was born and, remembering her mother, a new song began to fill her space, and that eternal song sounded again along with the new one and made her mother come to be with her again. Signos de lo oculto Murió su madre, y aquella canción eterna que sonaba en su interior se fue apagando, poco a poco, hasta que su espíritu la dejó de escuchar. Nació su hijo y, recordando a su madre, una nueva canción empezó a llenar su espacio, y aquella canción eterna volvió a sonar junto a la nueva e hizo que su madre viniera de nuevo a estar junto a ella.

The Basement It had been only a short time since they had settled into the house on the outskirts of town—a large, spacious, and very old building. Alex and Shannon lived there with their little daughter, Sharon. One sunny day, Alex returned from work and found Shannon planting beautiful orchids in the garden. When he entered the house, he noticed that the basement hatch was open. “Sharon? Are you there?” “Sharon?” He started down the stairs, and a foul smell almost made him vomit. The darkness prevented him from seeing that little Sharon was opening small white boxes arranged in chronological order. Covering his nose and mouth with his arm, he continued down until he reached the light switch. When he turned it on, the white boxes began to decompose and vanished. But for a brief moment, he could see them—millions of them—immaculate and fragile, containing the bad thoughts that had taken place in that house, thoughts that Shannon had unknowingly released. The nauseating ...

Ethereal Song Words from other worlds, ethereal bonds linking spirits and desires. White companions in black moments, heavenly knots woven through our thoughts. Canción etérea Palabras de otros mundos,  lazos incorpóreos entre espíritus y entre deseos.  Compañeras blancas en negros momentos,  celestiales nudos con los pensamientos.

The Fountain Every morning, as he passed the fountain, he stopped for a few moments and became oblivious to everything around him. From a window, a little Japanese girl watched him attentively, and he aware that she was watching him. So day after day, year after year. He grew old, and the little Japanese girl became a beautiful young woman. One day, they met in the street. Their glances met and she suddenly asked him: "Why do you stop every day in front of the beautiful fountain on the corner?" "One day, my wife died at the foot of that fountain. Every day, one of the nymphs in that fountain brings me news of her. Thus, every day, she gives me a reason to live, and every morning I find in her words the love she has always given me." Moved by that love story, two tears welled up in the young Japanese woman's eyes, which he hastened to wipe with a handkerchief. From that day on, he confided in her about his life with his wife. From that day on, they...

The Minaret Dusk was falling. The last rays of the sun bathed the slender silhouette of the lonely minaret. Soon, the muezzin would call the faithful to prayer. A few moments earlier, an almost invisible crack had run down the western face of the minaret, from its summit to the ground, accompanied by a deep, muffled moan. As far back as he could remember, the muezzin had devoted his life to the prayers offered in the square watched over by the minaret. He was about to make his way to the square when an unsettling feeling came over him. He had heard of the death of minarets. All those sacred places, after devoting their existence to summoning the faithful to prayer, eventually died. And his own had wanted to tell him something. He made his way to the magnificent square, where the faithful were beginning to gather beneath the majestic tower. The muezzin wanted to be beside his minaret. With determined steps, he began to climb the steep staircase. Just as he was about to re...

Smile From loving lips, a smile escaped and ended up in a field of flowers and tents. She did not know where to land and she was wandering for several days. Finally, tired, she inadvertently found the folds of the soul of a refugee, who clothed her and stayed with her forever. Sonrisa De unos labios amorosos, una sonrisa se escapó y vino a parar a un campo de flores y tiendas de campaña. No sabía dónde posarse y estuvo deambulando durante varios días. Por fin, cansada, encontró sin darse cuenta los pliegues del alma de un refugiado, que la arroparon y se quedaron con ella para siempre.