Fiction

  • Censor Anti-Plagios
    I never credited the author. But I did put the poem in quotations. That was the exercise: guessing who the author was. A few dared insinuate that the poem was mine.
  • The Wild Book
    Since its founding in 2013, Brooklyn-based independent publisher Restless Books has established itself as one of the most cutting-edge publishers of translated literature in the U.S. In the four years...
  • A Tattoo
    But Alina clings to his embrace with stubborn resistance. She’s closed her eyes and in that momentary darkness she senses that another tattoo is branching out inside her, adding dark petals to the vio...
  • Dance of the Defeated
    One sunny Sunday, Fernanda decided we would spend the new year partying in Arica. Her father had bought her a four-wheel-drive truck when she enrolled in college, and despite the fact that she crashed...
  • Pedro Novoa
    I accept, you fucking asshole, you tell him, convinced, impulsive like the fighter of the Pre-Colombian filigree before his ferocious destiny. And, from somewhere in the world, you hear the resounding...
  • Chicken Joint
    A scratch awakens him. Piece of shit cat. His body is soaked in sweat, as if he had a fever. He dries his face with the back of his right hand, which luckily isn’t shaking today. A coughing fit catche...
  • Educación mecánica
    When I was 16 years old, I made a radical decision: I wanted to learn to drive and get my driver’s license on the exact day of my 17th birthday—on the very minute that the law would allow. And that’s...
  • Formas de evasión
    Drinking in such a way also ensured that he wouldn’t get into street fights with strangers. He had been involved in many over the years, and preferred now to release his rage alone in his room of the...
  • Marilia Wakes Up
    She wears her socks up to her knees, because even in the summer, her feet are cold. She sits on the edge of our bed and rolls down the socks: shin, calf, ankle and stops. She straightens up her back a...
  • Chiapas McDonald's
    Autumn. That and the dry leaves drifting aimlessly through the streets. On the corner there's a McDonald's that looks like an island, its yellow light shining in the distance, in the middle of the rai...
  • Cristina Rivera Garza
    The light is magnificent, yellow and flickering as if a body. Through the windows it’s pouring, the rain rushes through them with unusual force, it soaks everything; but it too is serene, calm, even....
  • Nadia Villafuerte (Revista UNAM)
    The story was very simple and it played over and over again like a film loop:
  • Cristina Rivera Garza
    It isn’t a good idea to repeatedly ask yourself why you live in an estuary. Upon doing so, upon asking yourself so many times, moreover if you do so before a mirror, it’s very likely that you’ll end u...
  • Cristina Rivera Garza
    I answered the ad in the paper at the end of February. Barely two months into the New Year and I already knew that with my forced diet of sunflower seeds, rye bread, and raw vegetables I wouldn’t surv...
  • Cristina Rivera Garza
  • Yuri Herrera
    When you are a pestilent being the world stops being pestilent. Or does it?
  • Veracruz Buses
    Only an idiot could believe that all Latinas could have the good luck of a J-Lo.
  • Yoss
    By Yoss
    Her name may be Svieta, 11 years old, but she may look older. One of those typical girl-women of the tropics. From a poor family, a neighborhood on the outskirts, a broiler. Naughty, sure of hersel...
  • Yoss
    By Yoss
    January. The 2:34pm sun enters the house unimpeded through the back window, barely held up by a clumsy piece of carpentry. The big rusted nails split through the wood. Only a sheet of nylon prevents t...
  • Rabanito al amanecer
    She has the face of someone who has just sworn off marriage: part wilted, part revived, neither of the factions ever too transparent.
  • Yoss
    By Yoss
    The door-slam sounds like a gunshot. With an empty expression and watery eyes, Julia keeps looking at the sheet of plywood shaking from the blow, for long seconds. Later she gets up, and with her hand...
  • El hombre que vino de lejos
    When he awoke, the man did not know where he was. He did not remember anything, not even who he was. When he searched through his scant belongings, he found no sign of his identity, not even a scrap o...
  • Cuban Dog
    I went to live in a dead horse.
  • Cyber-proletarian
    I wanted to leave the lab, but he wouldn’t allow me. Even though he was a genius, my creator couldn’t provide me anything more than the limitations imposed by his own intelligence. Had I remained ther...
  • Raúl Flores Iriarte
    There's a dead Nazi under my table.

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