Water #short prose #flash fiction

It was too late. I was already thrown into my memories, chained to my past, tortured by its unbearable voices.

I ran toward the ocean. I jumped. The water glued my dress to my body, hit my burning face, wiped my century-old tears.  In the dark I went deeper and deeper looking for the bottom.

Few seconds, and I felt Miguel’s body wrapping around mine.  His arms were pulling me up.

My lungs were burning. I started coughing.

Miguel whispered: “It never happened, Clara. It never happened.”

And yet something terrible must have happened before Jacques left Paris, something that was deeply buried in my memory, something that I was refusing to acknowledge. Did Jacques come to see me that night? Did he?

A horrifying thought crossed my mind.

Miguel, Angelo, and I would not be put in different heavens or hells. We were going to the same place, so we could continue obsessing over and over about Jacques’ imagined love for me and that dreadful fated night that changed our lives forever.

That’s right: a night that I couldn’t remember.

Excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers

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Nominated for author of the month at Spillwords Press #poetry #short prose #writers

My Dear Readers,

Together with other wonderful writers, I was nominated “Author of the Month” at Spillwords Press. You do not need a Spillwords account to vote. You can vote with your FB, Twitter and probably with your WP account too.

My most sincere thanks to all of you who vote Gabriela M.

Vote

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before you came (the day of the fallen saints) #poem #poetry

you do not know
how many countries I have traveled
how many marvels I have shown myself
the names of the dead souls I’ve resurrected
my victims’ kisses buried in a pink conch shell
inside the whispers of the messianic Nazareth
He who knew of His own crucifixion
picked up my tears
broke the bread
so I could lock the memory of my first kiss
inside the rocks of the eternal Spanish Steps
and walk again through fields of roses and lavender
into gestating dreams of no constraints

yet see,
all that happened
before the day you came into my life
the day when all the fallen saints
mysteriously
were set free

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image: Tatyana Mi; Shutterstock; [link]

 

…keep my memory #short prose #flash fiction

“I want your flesh to keep my memory, and your soul to forget me.”
*
“Well, Angelo, crucify me. I said that because at the time I did not believe flesh has any memory. Now, I do not know what to believe anymore.”
*
Every night the wounded blue of his eyes haunts me.
What have I done? 

excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers

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bewitched #poem #poetry

perhaps I was bewitched by the North Star
or by a ballad as dateless as my blood
geography of feelings populates unwanted interludes
my eyes, the nests of dewy grass and leaves
emerald eyelashes flaunt
black taffeta chirps between my fingers like piano keys
inside my soul your kisses soar
soft lilac tones like prayers of the youngest nun
perhaps because I read your poetry last night
and cut my soul between a stanza and a strife
perhaps a child played with a kite
a kingdom for a sup
maybe it was the wind
that woke me up

Published in the Indian Periodical, March 3, 2019

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image: Irina Alexandrovna, Shutterstock; [link]

 

Shadow-Boxing #short prose #flash fiction

Glass of tequila in his hand, white shirt half open on his chest, raillery in his powerful voice, Jacques’ eyes pierced into Miquel’s.

‘Salud Conquistador.’

Miguel laughed, handsome as sin, wind in his inky hair, flames in his green eyes. 

‘A votre santé, mon Maréchal de France.’ 

His laughter resonated in the depths of the night. A shrill echo came back through the cool air.

Jacques’ blue eyes fixed into mine. My eyes flickered into his. He spoke.

“Sin takes place in the mind not in the flesh, Clara.”

My hands pressed on Miguel’s.  Miguel’s lips shivered.

Angelo turned toward Miriam and froze. 

Knifes were out.
All bets were off.  
One of us was going to break.

excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers 

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