A short Story: The Table


7005252-chips-and-ace-king-hand-on-a-gambling-tableOn new year’s eve, it was okay to gamble. As a child, I have never connected the dots, didn’t know what gambling really means, and didn’t reflect on its connection with the grown-ups table that shows some seriousness and tension and attracts lots of attention at the extended-family end of year, longest night, party. The music was usually up, family members chat chat chat all over the place, kids get to catch up and lern better about their second cousins. TV was usually on, out loud, specially at the moment where the year ends and another year comes into play. Cheers, screams, countdown, hugs, kisses, congratulations, love, but the silent table stays out of this world. Wives, run to hug their table husbands, and kids rush to wish their dads a happy new year.

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Quick Fiction: The Double


He was standing there lost in front all of those mirrors that surrounded him in this small space of two square meters. The mirrors were set up in a way where each reflection of him in one is reflected again in the other, forming an endless reflections of the same image, the same person, the same him.

He looked closer, trying to identify each image, each reflection. They all looked back at him, with the same body gesture, the same movement, but in different angles allowed by the tilt of each mirror. In the back of his head, he had a favorite, and that was him at the end, the smallest furthest reflection of them all.

Not sure why, maybe the size made him the cutest, or maybe the distance made him the least imposed, or most lost?

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Short Story: Printed Noses


“Haya.. come down..”
“HAYA.. COME DOWN..”
“Your meal is cold..”
“YOUR MEAL IS COLD..”

Mother shouted in frustration for the 10th time in the past 30 minutes. She decided then to come up to Haya’s room and have a direct talk with her teenage daughter.

“WHAT THE HELL IS..? “

Mother stopped short of completing her sentence, startled by the number of noses thrown around in Haya’s room.

“OH MY GOD! HAYA! What have you done??! You wasted all of these stem cells!“

Mother flared in disbelief.

“Easy mom.. easy.. I didn’t do anything.. don’t worry about stem cells. I got a good deal and can easily recycle them. You know Apple has launched new Cell-Recycling machine that is compatible with their 3D iPrint-ers. I will buy one tomorrow and will come eat my food in a while”

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Quick Fiction: Mother in the womb


The kick of the baby inside her womb rocked her world one more time. Her mother in her womb, a dream. A work of insanity of unbearable pain. Paved the way of her losing whatever sense of security, of safety, of love, and all what is beautiful in this life. Death snatched her mom away. In a moment? not, just few seconds of a deadly stroke.

Back engineering of a new age casted a ray of light. A hope for healing. A demonic or holly desire to bring her mom back haunted her. Determined, she headed to that clinic. Granting her genetic code to science to extract the origin form of her mother’s.

“You are mad” her siblings fought her

“Why do you want to bring her struggle again?” her husband warned her

“For the same reason she brought me here, unexplained desire” She stated

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