Posted on May 7, 2012 by Sam Quinones
By Anthony Quinones
… I did my best to talk my way out of what was going to happen. Sir, I’ve learned my lesson; can’t we just forget the whole matter? I promise that it won’t happen again. With a resounding no, he continued dialing my father’s office, repeating how much trouble I was in. I kept talking, hoping that in some way I could save him. …
Posted on April 30, 2012 by Sam Quinones
By David Orr
“…The ball flew over my head, and I ducked under the rope and ran as fast as I could past the hopscotch girls to chase it. The ball landed near the jump ropes and a circle of more girls playing jacks on the far side of the playground. Just as I picked up the ball, there was Sister! …”
Posted on March 4, 2012 by Sam Quinones
By Michel Stone
… We not talking in there. But then one man he get very crazy in the head,” Angel says, his perpetual smile lost now. “Is very bad.
“He say crazy things. He screaming and he wanting his mama, but is no space in there and is no mama, either. I want to hit him in the face! You see, is no because I am a bad guy, but this man, he could get us caught, you know? …”
South Carolina novelist Michel Stone contributes a story of one man’s trip to the U.S. welded into the bottom of a truck.
Posted on February 19, 2012 by Sam Quinones
By Sam Quinones
… With my jingle going loud, I didn’t hear him come up.
“Hey, you!”
I looked up. Next to me was another ice cream truck. Sitting in the springy driver’s seat, which was begging for mercy, sat an enormous squat white man, with a cap, a mustache and a scraggly beard. His belly-button peeked out from beneath a faded blue t-shirt.
“You work for Trop?’
I nodded.
“This is my town. I’m going to dust your ass of the road.”
He roared off. As I watched him go, I said to myself, `There goes Big Al.’
Posted on February 7, 2012 by Sam Quinones
By Laurie Trautman
In the spring of 2009 my husband and I were backpacking around Nicaragua when two women befriended me on a public bus from Granada to Managua. After we stepped off the bus, they hailed a taxi cab which we all planned to share.
They were two women — a bit ugly and fat and dirty, but two women. With smiles and pretty words. With patience to listen to my bad Spanish. The cab we got into was old and shabby, but it was a cab, wasn’t it? …
Posted on January 23, 2012 by Sam Quinones
By Jeffrey Scott Hunter
The night before the score me and my crime partner, Dave, had seven dollars between us, and had been sleeping in our friend’s driveway in my van. With the seven bucks we decided to go to a pizza parlor and get a pitcher of beer while we discussed our future.
At this time I was still on state probation for an assault, an ounce of coke and a pound of pot. Dave is out on bond under a different name from another state. …
Posted on January 16, 2012 by Sam Quinones
By Anthony L. Quinones
… The lights went down and the curtain started to open. Then the announcer came over the sound system. Due to having performed for underprivileged children of Washington D.C. earlier in the day, he said, Mikhail Baryshnikov and Gelsey Kirkland will not perform tonight’s ballet. Instead, they will be replaced by their understudies — a Mr. Bujones and a Ms. Van Hamel.
The audience went wild. A man two rows in front of our group stood up and shook his fist. The Japanese ambassador, who was sitting in the presidential box, walked out in protest, with his entourage in tow. …
Posted on January 9, 2012 by Sam Quinones
By Gabi DiMarco
The winter South African sun shone weakly through the window I had been resting against. The rest of the bus was beginning to stir as our classmates stashed their iPods and books and reached for the matching navy-blue windbreakers we had been instructed to wear at all times. We filed out one by one and waited patiently for our guide, Mr. Brown, to instruct us on what to do next. …
Posted on January 6, 2012 by Sam Quinones
This is how things would look with a test blog post. I’d hope to add photos as well, and links, and probably lots of photos, as well.
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This is how things would look with a test blog post. I’d hope to add photos as well, and links, and probably lots of photos, as well.
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This is how things would look with a test blog post. I’d hope to add photos as well, and links, and probably lots of photos, as well.
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This is how things would look with a test blog post. I’d hope to add photos as well, and links, and probably lots of photos, as well.
Posted on December 19, 2011 by Sam Quinones
By Manny Marquez
It was two days before Christmas, and I was visiting my cousin’s home the night SHE came over. The lights on the Christmas tree were twinkling like stars in a country sky and cookie crumbs and empty milk glasses line the coffee table. Everyone was jolly, really into the spirit of things. Not me, no, I had retreated to my cousin’s room where I climbed into a bed, blared the sound on the TV, and hid. Outside in that living room was the girl that I had a major, major crush on. …
