Twilight's Flash Fiction / Relatos cortos crepusculares

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 a very short time since they had settled in that house on the outskirts of town. A large, spacious and very old house. Alex and Shannon had a little girl, Sharon. One sunny day Alex returned from work and found Shannon planting some beautiful orchids. When he entered the house he saw 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 did not allow him to see that little Sharon was opening small white boxes arranged in chronological order. Covering his nose and mouth with his arm, he continued down the stairs until he reached the level of the switch. When the light came on, those white boxes began to decompose until they disappeared. But for a moment he could see them, millions of them, immaculate and fragile, contained the bad thoughts that had taken place in that house and that Shannon had unknowingly released. That nauseating...

Ethereal Song Words from other worlds, disembodied ties between spirits and between desires. White companions in black moments, heavenly knots with 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, when he passed in front of the fountain, he stopped for a few moments and remained oblivious to everything around him. From a window, the little Japanese girl was looking at him attentively, and he was realizing 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 crossed paths 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?" "At the foot of that fountain one day, my wife died, and through one of the nymphs of that fountain tells me every day how she is. Thus, every day, she gives me the 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 came from the eyes of the young Japanese woman, which he hastened to wipe with a handkerchief. From that day on, he told her confidenc...

The minaret The Sun was setting. Weary rays of sunlight illuminated the slim octagonal figure of the solitary minaret. Soon, the muezzin would call the faithful to prayer. Shortly before, a scarcely visible crevice ran in an instant across the west face wall from its top to the ground, accompanied by a dull wail. The muezzin had attended, as far as his memory remembers, the prayers in that square presided over by the minaret. He was preparing to go to the square when he felt a strange sensation. Someone had told him about the death of the minarets. All those sacred places, after dedicating their lives to the offering to the faithful, sooner or later died. And his minaret had wanted to say something to him. He went to the splendid square to which the faithful began to go, presided over by the majestic tower. The muezzin wanted to be with his minaret, so, with a determined step, he started up the steep staircase and when the climb was almost over, the minaret moaned again, this ti...