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A weekly short story contest
Looking for a steady supply of latinx short stories? Every week thousands of writers submit stories to our writing contest.
Coming of Age
People of Color
Teens & Young Adult
We'll send you 5 prompts each week. Respond with your short story and you could win $250!
Gabriel let out an exaggerated sigh and relaxed his posture. After a twelve-hour shift he was finally home. “hey, you” he said to the yellow cat snuggled up on the couch. Good thing his mom wasn’t home or she would have thrown both of them out for getting hair on the couch. And believe him the last thing you want to do is mess with a Mexican mom and her couch. He picked the cat up and snuggled her against his chest ”I'm...
“I mean it Caroline. Ethan is not a good guy.” “What do you mean not a good guy?” “I mean I know his type. A low life, guitar playing, marijuana hippie.” “Marijuana hippie?” “Well not hippie like 70’s Californian hippie but hippie like smells like green.”Caroline glanced across the hall, at the stallion himself. A 17 year boy with dark hair and blazing, smoking eyes. His features were sharp and reminiscent of James Dean. He wasn’t the most buff looking guy but he had muscles...
Me and Kylie were best friends, a mutual attachment bonded through empathy for each other's anxieties. I remembered the first day we met early in the school year in math class. I noticed her sitting in the back of the classroom trying to avoid the teacher's gaze by burying her face in her text book. She looked so uncomfortable and shocked when she was called out once to answer a question in front of class. I could see a...
Calpillo and his little sister Xochil harvested corn from their parent's corn field for dinner for the night while his mother Xochimilco harvested beans. Xochimilco cooked the Rabbit, corn and beans, and the family ate supper for the evening in peace.
Their father Texcoco came back with a Rabbit. Texcoco and his family lived happily and peacefully with their tribe in the land of Aztlan. The Tribe took good care of...
C: ‘Are you asking about the impact the accidente had on the family? Well, there’s no family to speak of anymore, to start with. But I just want to scream: be yourself no matter what, you know. God, when I first came to this town, I had no idea, I had to reuse my lashes twenty times, that’s how poor I was, I reattached them until the residue glue was too heavy to keep my eyelids open. I had to ride to auditions on a bike, in the heat, can you imagine?‘And I saw him across the bar one night and boom, ten years later, some l...
The first time my father calls me a joto, I am five. I don’t know what the word means yet, but I know what he means by the hate in his eyes, the rage on his lips, the disgust on his tongue as he spits it out—¡joto! Like chunks of sour milk in his coffee. Like a mouthful of blood. Like a fly that had the gall to die in his beer—¡joto! The word reache...
Life has taught me that humans are dying stars. We spend all of our lives growing bigger and bigger, some more than others, but we grow nonetheless, some shine more than others and some make a bigger impact than others but they are all stars, dying stars. You see, the star keeps consuming its own energy in order to shine and serve as a beacon of light and life for those that cannot shine, just to blow up in the end and m...
The kitchen was her kingdom. She stood before her domain, taking in the immaculate, cozy view and fragrant smell of spices that enticed her. The sun shined brightly through the two windows, giving the auburn cabinets a honey-colored tint. With a smile on her face and swiftness in her hands, she grabbed the black apron, decorated with a colorful candy skull surrounded by a plethora of vibrant flowers off the wall, placing...
"I'm full! Really!" I stopped on the boardwalk, my arms heavy with leftovers. A thermos with left over chicken noodle, not the good kind, and somewhere underneath the activewear jacket hung over from my mother's era, the straps of a Walmart salad bag, contents now slightly wilted, twisted around the two smallest fingers of my left hand, a local roaster's day-old espresso with a white layer bloom like chocolate gets when it sees moisture. And notebooks. Five or six notebooks with bits and bytes of data, some strains of ol...
Uncle Rudy’s Last Gift
By George Key
A chill came over Sticks as he prepared to make the short journey to the annual “Break Bread and Jam Til’ the Rooster Crows Christmas Party”. Taking that last glance at the broken mirror just to make sure he was sportin’ his lady killer best. Sticks knew that every musician in Tucson that was anybody was g...
I arrived hot and sweaty to the cocktail bar located on a corner of the famous Bishop Street in Old Havana, Cuba. I teleported to a surreal past just when I crossed the threshold of the door: rancid fashioned velvety curtains, baroque columns crudely repainted to conceal time deterioration and lack of funds for its restoration. These topped with a color coat so ordinary that it almost violated the eyes with their failed attempt to resemble a true gold leaf. The stale smell of mo...
It was nearly dawn when the old bus arrived in the capital. It had taken five hours to bring Luna from her village to the city. She had sat silent and still throughout the night.
Luna stepped down, left the depot. She walked towards a main street. She saw that the city never gave itself to the dark, ...
"I can make a u-turn and not go back to the house and just sell it, no strings attached. That's it."
Andy Channing parked her SUV containing some moving boxes and her loyal Pit Bull, Milo. She hadn't stepped foot at the Channing Manor in Oregon in a few years. After graduating high school and then moving to Baltimore for college at the University of Maryland, things have been different for Andy. She los...
There was once a boy named Alejandro. He was born in Colombia in 1958 and stayed there for half of his life. His father told him to always be a proud, strong and honest man. No one knew that he liked boys and wanted to become a girl. He knew he had to hide it from everyone, especially his family because they didn't accept people like him. No one understood how he felt. He had to lie to protect himself even though his fa...
- Damn! - the pecora Remberta, shrieked, sprucing up her covered bootie in oily foam sprinkled from the galces.
Of course it is the work of my favorite windows - ironic - the ones that smile every time they stain the outstanding unblemished tunic in my chest!
I have no other, how unfortunate! - She exclaimed dominated by the fury that caused swirling air around her.
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