180+ Latinx Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. Looking for exciting new stories by Latinx authors? Look no further — these stories are a must-read for anyone hoping to learn more about Latin culture, or to become a patron of its freshest voices.

🏆 Winning stories

“The Ungentling” by Katy B

🏆 Winner of Contest #204

Bill’s disappeared upstairs with the little sickly girl but me I’m here to see the blind woman. I hear she did it on purpose, tore donkey tail out of the earth and smeared its milky sap directly in her eyes. It must of stung her hands and face bad and maybe left marks on her fingers. Near Santa Fe, men, women and children are always getting possessed of this sort of ecstasy and seem like taking pleasure in swallowing poison and fire and stepping on scorpions and suchlike. But it ain’t superstition like the government try to tell me in the...

83 likes 85 comments 85

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“Kiss of the Snake” by Zilla Babbitt

🏆 Winner of Contest #36

Yellow Day Today is a yellow day. The sunlight sneaks in through the window, writhing on the floor like a snake. Outside, the leafy pecan tree shakes in the wind. To be honest, I do not write. When I do, it is facts and information. In the city I did not have time for poetry or pretty words. No one wanted pretty words or expected it of me. But now, alone with the cold stone and cold yellow light and snakes made from the sun, I have time.

280 likes 132 comments 132

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⭐️ Recommended stories

“Love in the Time of Asthma” by Katy B

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #210

The mask swam elephantine and bug-eyed in the dark glass. After several years of passing the auto shop, whose empty windows were the only ones between the drilling fields and the motel left unboarded, Tommy still struggled to recognize the reflection as his own. He stopped absently to observe himself. It was dawn. The sun pink as a freshly peeled blister behind its film of dust cast downtown into streaks of gray shadow and warbled rose. It accentuated the muffled slurp of the mask, the clouds of dirt rising from the...

27 likes 26 comments 26

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“Today is Going to be a Good Day” by Isabella Clementina Olmedo

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #203

The smell of fried dough reaches the upstairs washroom where I run my fingers through my curls. My stomach grumbles, pleading for a bite. Today should be a good day. The sun is out but so is a cool breeze, so hopefully it won’t be too stuffy in the church. Grandma made her signature empanadas which are solely reserved for special occasions, and my older cousins aren’t allowed to pick on me today as per Grandma’s orders. Today was “too important” and Grandma didn’t want me crying because of my cousins’ jokes or shoves. They say people tend...

20 likes 8 comments 8

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“A Sober Thought” by Sunanna Bhasin

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #172

“My name is Alvaro Vasquez and I am an alcoholic.”   About twenty solemn eyes were fixated on me as I forced the last hard ‘c’ out of my mouth and sat back down. A chorus of “Hi Alvaro” met my ears as my bottom met the cool metal of probably the most uncomfortable chairs I’d ever sat on. If their purpose was to get you to stay here, I’d imagine they’d have seating more pleasing to my ass. Oops, I...

26 likes 7 comments 7

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✍️ All stories

“Chan Chan” by Vie L'cast

Submitted to Contest #240

It crept up her spine like a malevolent spirit, leaving a clear path of prickled skin up her back. She had not heard that song in over 30 years and though the air was indeed quite cool she knew it was not the wind that chilled her. Her eyes darted towards her husband’s whose thoughts were now with the political news clip he had scrolled to on his phone. Annoyed by his persistent absence she looked over at her daughter, Marina, whose stretched-out arms now swayed beside her as she embraced a tune that was otherwise crippling her mother. ...

4 likes 0 comments 0

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“A Calling in the Wind” by Angelica Sophia

Submitted to Contest #240

Mira’s silky black hair was braided back the way her mother used to do it for her when she was a little girl living in Mexico. Around her face a few stray wisps of feathered hair danced in the breeze caressing her cheeks, a gentle stroke from an invisible hand. Determined to keep her eyes on the page and avoid any distracting daydreams, Mira tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ears and turned the page to the U.S. history book she was reading. It had been a long winter and finals would soon begin. Mira worked diligently, quickly ...

9 likes 4 comments 4

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“First Pitch” by Lourdes Albarracin

Submitted to Contest #238

 “A guest of a Blue Jays team player will throw today’s first pitch. The announcer says. “That lucky person is Paula  Jimenez.” My sister and I look up from our conversation. “Paula come down to the field and throw that pitch.” He continues. “They called your name.” Carmen says. “Why would he do that?” I say and throw the remainder of my hot dog into a paper bag. “You didn’t know?”...

12 likes 2 comments 2

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“Mr. Alvarez” by A. Torrecilha

Submitted to Contest #238

My dear children, If you are reading this, I am dead. Hopefully you will read that part with an ominous voice, like a Morgan Freeman type of narration, I always wanted to sound like that. In fact, that is my post-mortem wish, to forever sound like Morgan Freeman in your memories. Anyhow, I think we have gotten a little bit out of topic. I am sure you are overtaken by emotion at this moment. If not, I will ...

12 likes 0 comments 0

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“The Shrub” by Nina Yaney

Submitted to Contest #238

Loneliness is my favorite thing about the shrub-steppe. From here, I can see the soft hills undulating until the vegetation turns into a fuzzy edge. Somewhere in the distance the shrubs turn green and grow taller. The massive white volcano dominates the horizon, standing uncontested. And as my mind inevitably completes the object; I can’t help but wonder why do I believe the other half exists. Today I can see only half, tomorrow its existence must be displayed again. As I turn my head I feel the buzz that reminds me why people hate camping i...

8 likes 0 comments 0

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“The Biggest Shoes to Fill ” by Jubilee Forbess

Submitted to Contest #238

Maritza had quite the reputation around the taco truck, Tacos Andrés, that she frequented after work. It was hard not to, when her work uniform consisted of a brilliant pink pigtail wig, a multicolored tulle tutu, bright red nose, pink cheeks and eyelids, sparkling shirt, and a smile that lasted for hours as she beamed and twirled amidst children. As a clown, she had the opportunity to make many children (and their parents) smile and laugh at her silliness. Her bag was full of prizes and tricks, little blooming feather flowers and magic foam...

22 likes 4 comments 4

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“Colonialcore ” by Nina Yaney

Submitted to Contest #236

He looked up and the sky was full of rats. It is such a trope: the old city, the ancient pigeon shit. A whole park dedicated to the avian rodents. Every road seemed a maquette; every wall peeling in colonial core. It would be a cliché asking if it has always been like this, but the longer he stare the more he internalized how enduring status quo was. He walked to the a double black door standing proudly against the radioactive yellow wall. His gaze locked on the metal bars that cross and covers the wood windows on both door...

6 likes 0 comments 0

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“From and Towards” by Prissy Sturz

Submitted to Contest #235

There’s no way people actually eat this shit. I ladled the brown goo onto the plate and handed it to the person waiting in line. They accepted it gratefully, giving a small smile before they turned and left to go sit with the others. That’s what I thought before I had to eat it myself. In truth, it wasn’t actually bad. It looked somewhat concerning, yes, but once you got it into your mouth, you’d come to find out that it was actually pretty good. For being the leftovers of whatever had bee...

10 likes 0 comments 0

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“The Death of Kuvé Hwanuk” by René Pinet

Submitted to Contest #231

Accustomed as we are to cell phones, CNN, video games, it is difficult for us to conceive that, in one of the most remote regions, in the 18th century, José Hwanuk considered himself a relatively fortunate and modern person. Educated as a neophyte at the Nuestra Señora de Los Dolores Mission in the Northern Territory, he had surpassed the expectations of the friars. He had become a skilled worker. To such a degree that, ...

5 likes 2 comments 2

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“Paolo's Pinchos” by Kit Tarro

Submitted to Contest #228

Paolo’s PinchosPlease Be Aware of Sensitive Themes: Physical assault, cannibalism, murder, suggestive language and themes. A Pincho. A Puerto Rican street Kebab, tender, mouth-watering, barbecued meat on a stick. My abuelo was Paolo, the King of Pinchos in San Juan. He Made thousands of dollars a month, destroying the competition in the downtown market. Hundreds of orders a day, catering orders every Saturday. My abuelo quickly had hundreds of people a day coming for the most famous Pincho in S...

8 likes 0 comments 0

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“The Last Supper” by Rut J

Submitted to Contest #228

      I can hear Dad’s whistle in the kitchen and the metallic noise of the spoon hitting the bottom of the pot. I sink into the couch, resting my back on one of the cushions as I look up at the ceiling. For a moment, I think about what would happen if the roof fell on top of me. Tilting my head, I can almost see it: a pillar collapsing. A little wind, perhaps, an earthquake, and the house would collapse, ending this far...

5 likes 0 comments 0

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“Honey” by Emily Lozano

Submitted to Contest #228

HONEY By Emily Lozano Today, I’m going to my grandmother Rosa’s funeral for the 5th time. As I lay in bed with my little dog Rico, I think over the choices I’ve made in my life. Death makes you do things like that. I think about my grandmother’s life, too. She was fierce, funny, joyful, and wise in the way only years of experience can make ...

8 likes 0 comments 0

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“Because He Likes You” by Sofia Olivarez

Submitted to Contest #226

My mother once told me about a time when she and Papí were arguing, and he got so angry that he raised a lamp to hit her with. Those were the days when we would hear his footsteps stomping up the front porch and rush to our places—me at my desk, Mamí in the kitchen—like actors right before the curtains come up. The smallest inconveniences could send him into a tempest of rage. Anyway, when he lifted that lamp she got right in his face, she tells me, felt his hot rage smack her with each pant. “If you’re gonna hit me,” she growled, and now...

11 likes 4 comments 4

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“Watercolors” by AnneMarie Miles

Submitted to Contest #225

He tells me to sit still.It is not hard to do. I am lost in thought, lost in my reasons for being here.I keep thinking of that woman I never knew. The person in the painting on the wall in the hallway of the house I grew up in. I keeping thinking about what it would have been like to know her, what it would have been like to call her my grandmother.Or would you have preferred, abuela? Did you speak English? Even that, I do not know. Even that, my father will not say.

29 likes 22 comments 22

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“I can’t sleep ” by Julie Hernandez

Submitted to Contest #224

I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep, but I can cry. I can’t sleep, but I can still breathe. I can’t sleep, but I can still worry. I can’t sleep, but somehow I still have visions in my head, some lighthearted and others just plain confusing. I can’t sleep, so I roll around in my bed, I toss and turn, this way and that. I flip my pillow over and over. I look at the clock and I give up. I get up, and I go to the bathroom. An easy feat after birthing a few babies. I look at the clock, and I go back to my bed. I no longer reach out or look over becau...

7 likes 2 comments 2

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