Twilight's Flash Fiction / Relatos cortos crepusculares

Innocence and Sin Crouched among the wheat fields, the devil weaves a black cloak of dark shadows. He keeps a close eye on his victims, the unwary who populate the stark shores of the Styx. When they try to approach Charon's boat, he mercilessly wraps them in black shadow that light cannot penetrate and carries them away, to bring them back to life. This is the worst punishment to them. In an oversight of Satan, a child runs towards the boat and avoiding the thick shadow, jumps into Charon's arms. He manages to grab one end of the shadow and pulling it hard strips Satan naked, allowing a thousand suns to illuminate the new dawn. And Satan, helpless, reduces himself his size, until he becomes an invisible point. La inocencia y el pecado Agazapado entre los trigales, el diablo teje un negro manto de oscuras sombras. Vigila de cerca a sus victimas, los incautos que pueblan las orillas descarnadas de la laguna Estigia.  Cuando se tratan de acercar a la barca de Caronte, los envuelv...

Fragile He went to the cave of hell and came back. He had realized that nothing was the same anymore. The sunsets were not of fire, and the gnomes with their cold and distant cries, did not let hear the trill of the birds. the fragrances of yesteryear had turned into foul odors reminiscent of smoking missiles crashing to the grTund. He felt fragile. Frágil Fue a la gruta de los infiernos y volvió. Se había dado cuenta de que ya nada era igual. Los atardeceres no eran de fuego, y los gnomos con sus gritos fríos y distantes, no dejaban escuchar el trino de los pájaros. las fragancias de antañose hbaían convertido en pestilentes olores que recordaban a los misiles humeantes estrellados contra el suelo. Se sentía frágil.

  Deadly Mistake Without crying, he walked away down that dark corridor. He left the zinc coffin behind. There will be no more suns that illuminate his days, nor caresses that give his soul peace.   Error mortal Sin llorar, se alejó por aquel oscuro pasillo. dejó atrás el ataúd de zinc. Ya no habrá más soles que iluminen sus días, ni caricias que le presten a su alma sosiego.

  A Russian Soldier They had been carried the night before, protected by shadows, to the war zone. Exhausted, he had fallen asleep with his hands resting on the weapon, a proton ejector capable of destroying everything in its path. He missed Moscow, and in that dream, images of his grandfather were superimposed on scenes of war. His grandfather, a young Ukrainian soldier who fought against the special military operation in 2022, met his death in the Donbas, in the same area where he was now. The consequences of that war had been devastating. The intervention of NATO internationalized the conflict and as a consequence, Russia had lost more than half of its territory and the diaspora of the Russian people had turned their cities into ghostly specters. Now, fifty years later, Russia was once again expanding its borders with aggressive attacks that reduced the buildings that had been left standing years before to rubble. He was startled awake by the explosion of what he thought mig...

  Shy Desencounters She never spoke to me, never looked me in the eye. But during a class break, I was left alone in the classroom and opened her notebook. My name was there, inside a crimson heart pierced by an arrow. I never said anything to her and we never spoke. Today, with the first light of dawn, her life went out. That red heart pierced by an arrow withered in his notebook and my heart withered too.   Tímidos desencuentros Nunca me dirigió la palabra, nunca me miró a los ojos. Pero durante un descanso de clase, me quedé solo en el aula y abrí su cuaderno. Allí estaba mi nombre, dentro de un corazón carmesí atravesado por una flecha. Nunca le dije nada y nunca hablamos. Hoy, con las primeras luces del alba, su vida se apagó. Aquel corazón rojo atravesado por una flecha se marchitó en su cuaderno y marchitó también el mío.

  The lake of time Last night a piece of black space came to visit me. At dawn, a stranger has brought me to the lake of time. I move closer to the side of it. I introduce my hands and cupping them in the liquid crystalline, and I desperately try to retain the drops of time, but the moments slip through my fingers and fall quickly as wanting to lose themselves in the roots of the earth. So all my time is now reduced to five minutes, those who have been imprisoned in the meager space of the hollow of the palm of my hand. It's the last five minutes, very little time to tell you so many things. To repeat to you how much I love you. You, who have generated my time. You, who have accompanied me on this long journey with the patience and love that only someone who has given birth knows how to offer. The lake of time separated us and will unite us again very soon forever.   El lago del tiempo Anoche vino a visitarme un trozo de espacio negro. Al despuntar el alba, un desconoc...

  Fatal Blow One, two, three ... The tower clock began to chime to say goodbye to the year. The unusual image of the empty medieval square and poorly lit by four small torches, left a trace of discouragement in the souls that, kidnapped by the pandemic, wandered through imaginary universes looking for something that would give them hope. Before the last bell that would dismiss the year sounded, the abbot turned his gaze to heaven, begging for a divine sign to end that pandemic. A faint little light appeared in the distance and slowly became more visible as he approached the square. A picosatellite the size of the abbot's book of hours slowed until it was within inches of the stunned abbot. Addressing him in ancient Latin, the voice of the picosatellite told him that inside it was carrying the offering that, coming from heaven, would end the pandemic. It continued saying that like happened with the miracle of the loaves and fishes, that the holy water that all people should drin...