The color of madness

By:Mauricio Velez Espinosa
Short story
Cuento escrito en otro idioma

Manuela has black hair like jet and her white porcelain skin. Her lips are red, very red, like a ripe cherry and when she sighs she opens them slightly as if imitating a kiss, one that she did not give or that she did not receive, who knows. Many men lost their heads by those lips, and by those lips, she lost her sanity.

Manuela mixed her thick red lips with the colors of spring, in an obsession with flowers, balloons and colors. Her room was impregnated with joy, life, and her clothes were tinged with smiles and emotions. One day, for no reason, happiness was broken when at dawn she awoke. She could not stand seeing the colors and with euphoria and madness she began to scream.

The coloring drove her crazy. She started by tearing images from her wall, ripping clothes. Suddenly, she slammed the door. The silence was gray, everything was broken, except for a mirror on the wall, which she held in her hands. She looked at herself and seeing the bright red of her lips, grabbed a pair of scissors and finished with them, while she writhed on the floor, screaming, crying, sighing and wanting to remember that the deep red blood would be her downfall.

MAYBE IT WAS CHARM.

By:Sara Manuela Nieto Lopera
Short story in another lenguage



I couldn't understand why would someone design such a famous park with old tiles
that don't even match color. Were they trying to make it look old fashioned? It didn't
even had a patron. Wasn't anyone bothered about it?
I got up from the ground, shaking off the dust caught on my knees, and I started
looking around, trying to identify in which direction were more weird tiles together.
That's when I noticed the white flash of some teeth, and immediately after, heard the
charming laugh. In front on me was a young lady, sitting on a bank right under a
yellow apricot tree; the charming laugh was hers.
I starred, astonished, was she laughing at me? This old man?
Her eyes met my gaze for the shortest second, and then flew away distracted by a
yellow apricot flower falling down. She reached out, her hand opened in the exact
spot, she caught the little flower, and then let it go. I, just like her, followed the little
thing until it found the ground, just over a yellow tile. Over a yellow apricot blossom
tile.
I looked around, and of course! There they were! pink Magnolias and white
Camellias, all over the park, tiles and tiles were hanging around my head.

Ellie

Por: Mariana Hernández Arboleda
Cuento escrito en otro idioma

 I arrived, like every single day of the last three years and immediately felt it. Something was not right in that place, it was losing the warmth. I knew it was imminent, but I was so blinded by faith in humanity that I could not believe it.

 It was just me and her, a binary system in which one already knows that no one else fits. Ellie was that spiritual vitamin that used to make me grow, the cure against the pain of loneliness.

The sweet and loving look that always received me, It was not there, so i got scared and looked for her and i found her.

 Ellie lay on my bed, waiting for look at me by the last time. There, I understood that each word was true: They did not endure her. My neighbors did not see her happy and energetic like me, but strident and inopportune.

So I cried and she joined me. I cried seeing her fade and closing her eyes saying goodbye.

They took her, they poisoned my puppy.