Plano y gris / Plain and gray

El hormigón viste estrías como arrugas. Sometido por el tacón de un poste de luz, invadido por raíces, pisoteado por la muchedumbre. Ahogado en invierno, opacado en primavera, calcinado en verano y sepultado en otoño. Envejece y soporta, estoico, el hormigón.

The concrete wears stretch marks like wrinkles. Subjugated by the high heel of a lamp post, invaded by roots, stomped by the crowds. Drowned in winter, dimmed in spring, scorched in summer, and buried in autumn. Grows old and endures, stoic, the concrete.

Otra noche / Another night

Vestía el negro de esa noche sin luna. En el cruce, la señal parpadea. Parpadea. Parpadea. Parpadea, y finalmente cae en el silencio; la otra, imagen de un hombre erguido, se ilumina de un color carmín. No miró en ambos sentidos; dio un paso. Un paso. Un paso. Un paso. Un paso, hasta recorrer todo el trecho que separaba las esquinas. Tornándose a ver el momento en que la luz roja cede ante la verde, se lamentó. Ya no quedaban calles por cruzar antes de llegar a su destino.

He wore the black of that moonless night. At the junction, the sign blinks. Blinks. Blinks. Blinks, and finally grows quiet; the other, image of an upright man, shines in bright carmine. He didn’t look both ways; he took a step. A step. A step. A step. A step, until he had travelled the distance that separated both sides of the street. Turning in time to see the red light give way to the green, he lamented. There were no remaining streets to cross before he’d reach his destination.

The year before last I discovered Santiago en 100 Palabras (Santiago in 100 Words,) a literary competition of micro-stories of a hundred words or less, which had actually been going for a couple of years already; I just never learned of it because it’s main form of promotion was through the Metro’s (Santiago’s subway system) ad spaces, and I only took buses back then. Last year I was actually able to participate, by submitting two stories that I wrote the very day of the deadline, which was a terrible move. This year’s competition has already started, so I intend to take this chance to send better stories. Either way, here are the two from last year, for your perusal:

Regreso / Return

Sólo al detenerse el avión en la pista, mientras buscaba una lapicera en mi pecho, reparé en que había dejado olvidado el corazón.

Only after the plane had stopped, as I searched for a pen in my breast pocket, did I notice that I’d left my heart forgotten.

Un día / One day

Año espacial 20XX, un miércoles en Santiagópolis. Llego tarde porque, pasando por hiperplaza Neo-Italia, la microbot se detuvo a defender a la ciudad de una amenaza alienígena. El profesor de taller no oye excusas, me pone un uno en la tarea. Pero profe, cómo iba a saber que iba a haber una invasión.

Space year 20XX; it’s a Wednesday in Santiagopolis. I’m late because, passing by Neo-Italy Hypersquare, the robobus stopped to defend the city from an alien threat. The workshop’s teacher hears no excuses, grades me with a 1 in the assignment. But teach, how was I supposed to know that there was going to be an invasion.

Forgive the clumsy translation, though they’re not that much better in Spanish. I love writing such short stories because they’re quick and dirty and leave me a good opportunity to be meticulous: I’m a natural perfectionist, so I’m only ever happy with something if it’s been rid of every wrinkle. I should actually write more of these. Just now I found an incomplete one, which is pretty interesting (I’m wielding the perspective that over a year of distance rewards me with,) though it needs some cleaning up. I might post it later, as it’s a tad too long for the contest either way.