"Cuauhtemoc held me closely to him while we trembled in his tomb. We knew the end was near for us. As we waited for his servant and priest to arrive, he surveyed the treasures that lay on the tomb floor with his eyes, taking inventory of his gold. He caressed my back and told me to stay calm, that we would reach the underworld together someday......"
My recent interview with editor Matt Larrimore of Four Ties Lit Review:
"Human Condition" - published in The Autumn Sound Review
Just before my 30th birthday, I had my fortune told. His name was Shiu Liu Lam, and he was born in Hong Kong. We were classmates together in a creative nonfiction workshop, and while his writing was beautiful, he struggled with grammar because English was not his first language. One day we showed up to discover that class was cancelled, but neither of us had checked our messages. So we talked for a while about what we had done over the weekend – it was summer. Shiu asked me if I would proofread the story he had written for class that night, and so he shuffled over to a chair and we sat together in the empty classroom while I read through an essay he had written about Lake Elizabeth Park in Fremont, a place he and his family frequented. He told me he was on his fourth marriage and that he had eight children by those four wives. His current wife was fighting breast cancer......
To read more, visit: The Autumn Sound Review
"Beneath The Ruin" - published in The Blue Hour Magazine
We waited at Lima airport terminal to board our flight to Nasca, huddled together on the plastic seats, backpacks crammed with work clothes, insect repellant, toothbrushes, and sunscreen. I didn’t know anyone in the group but Ian. One of the guys turned to me and asked me, “So, Daniel, what was it like growing up Pentecostal? Charming snakes, talking tongues and shit?” The group chuckled and then waited for me to answer. I said that we’d never charmed snakes, but there were some that spoke in tongues, especially when someone was being baptized in the Holy Spirit. For my baptism, I was placed in a cocoon of hands laid over me, the men speaking in tongues, guiding me to the Holy Spirit. At the time it felt magical. Retelling this now, I was embarrassed....
To read more, visit: The Blue Hour Magazine
"The Guitarist's Fortune" - published in The Literary Yard
It was his last night playing guitar at the tango salon as a bachelor. His band mates lined up at the bar, and as Flor poured them each a glass of gin, she raised the last glass and said, “To Fernando. I don’t know how I will find another guitarist. Together, your music is magical. Chin-chin!” And the men raised their glasses, clinking them together , “Chin-chin! Chin-chin!” Flor leaned forward, her breasts almost spilling over the bar, and took the lipstick-stained cigarette out of her mouth. “Be a good boy, Ferna,” and kissed him on the cheek, leaving red lips on his skin, “and play me one more tango.”......
To read more, visit: The Literary Yard
"Dreams in Steno" - published in Four Ties Lit Review
From the time she was a very small child, Emily dreamed of being a court reporter. Her mother had been a court reporter. Some might even say Emily’s mother was one of the best court reporters who ever lived. When Emily qualified to sit for the state licensing exam, the world found itself needing to make room for the new best court reporter, for Emily was gifted in the way five-year-old Mozart was gifted when he first placed his fingers on the ivory keys. The music exuded from him as the sweet breath exhaled from a cherub, just as the words exuded with perfection from Emily’s fingertips onto her steno machine.....
To read more, visit: Four Ties Lit Review
"Why We Do This"- published in Century 121
He inhales and lays his fingers on the keyboard.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I’m writing an e-mail before I call so that you can have some time to think about what I have to say. I’m doing okay in school. Not great. I know I should put my grades first. I’m really trying. But I wanted to tell you something else. Not sure how to start this. I got myself into a little bit of trouble, nothing to freak out about. Just some money I owe from a credit card I got in September. I didn’t realize about the interest thing, not sure I even really understand how it works now. But the balance kept going up way more than I was spending, and now I owe a lot.
His finger holds down the delete key. This all sounds so lame, he thinks. There is just no easy way to do this. The sweaty Coke can fizzes on his desk. It sits by a pile of credit card statements. He thumbs through the folded papers, the most recent one on top. It pulsates, NEW BALANCE $19,458.69. MINIMUM PAYMENT $162.00. He tries again.
To read more, visit: Century 121 Review"Itziar's Best Friend" - published in Ducts
Paola stood in front of me, chest stuck out, her snide eyes challenging. My ears burned and my heart raced as I cranked my elbow back, like a pitcher on the mound. My arm swung forward, palm open, velocity increasing, chest pounding. I slapped the disdain clear off her face with all the strength of my ten-year-old forearm. This was the first time I had ever struck another living thing. It would be my initiation to many a beating I would give my younger brother growing up. The clapping sound of flesh on flesh frightened me, but Paola’s head whipped forward, and her expression showed no change. The warmth of her emerald eyes seemed so contradictory to her character. I hated Paola, and Paola hated me. I had ruined her life, and she sought revenge.
To read more, visit: Ducts Issue 24
My NewPages reviews:
Kugelmass Review, No. 2, 2011
New Ohio Review, Issue 11, Spring 2012
Raleigh Review, Volume 2, Issue 2012
My literary criticism: The Colonization of Women in Virginia Woolf’s The Voyage Out and Nadine Gordimer’s Burger’s Daughter — Erin F. Robinson
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